#so i just had to clamp into the screw head directly and take the whole thing out w this lol

[kuromi-hoemie]

thank you locking pliers for being the only one who's got me when I'm dealing with the most stubborn fucking screw 😭😩😤😤

... i love her.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 43!

“Hey, son. You got a minute?” Noah Stilinski knocked on Stiles’ bedroom door, opening it to find that he was throwing on a shirt, getting ready for Heather’s birthday party.

“Yeah, what’s up Daddy-O.” He nodded distractedly.

“I think it's about time we had a talk.” The Sheriff cleared his throat awkwardly, and that captured the boy’s undivided attention.

“What talk? Because if this is about who keeps eating the chocolate from your not-so-secret secret stash…it wasn’t me.” Stiles looked up like a deer caught in headlights.

“What? No-” Noah shook his head, and then paused. “Wait, you’ve been eating my chocolate?”

“It’s not good for your health, so technically I’m doing you a favour. You should really be thanking me, actually.” Stiles rambled. “If it’s not about the chocolate, then what’s it about?”

“Well, son. There comes a time in a young man’s life when he starts to notice girls in a certain way-” The Sheriff began and Stiles screwed up his face in disgust.

“Dad, we’ve already had one of these talks, and it was bad enough the first time.” He interjected.

“Just, what I’m trying to say is I know what goes on at these kinds of parties, and I just want you to make sure that no matter what happens you’re being smart.” Noah stated, and then added, “And safe.”

“Dad, I really don’t need to be talking about this-” Stiles tried to escape the uncomfortable topic but The Sheriff insisted.

“This isn’t exactly a pleasant experience for me either. Look, just-” His father huffed and tossed him a plastic shopping bag before walking out. “Tell Zaida I said hi.”

“Dad, what…?” Stiles opened the bag and peered inside to see a small cardboard box, which caused him to clamp his lips shut. “Oh my God.”

“I’m really not sure about this.” Zaida chewed on her bottom lip nervously, taking her time winding down the staircase of her apartment block as she clutched her phone to her ear.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll be with you the whole night, I promise.” Stiles tried his best to allay her worries from the other end of the call. The boy had invited her to come with Scott and him to a party being thrown by one of his friends from a different school. Both boys had been directly invited - she hadn’t. “You’ll be going as my plus one, so it’s totally cool.”

Her stomach flipped excitedly at that phrase - his ‘plus one’. She knew he didn’t mean it in that way, but still. “Okay, I’m on my way, I’ll see you soon.” She hung up, and surely enough when he exited the building that powder blue Jeep was parked out front with the front windows rolled down. When Stiles turned to greet her his jaw went slack and she instantly felt subconscious about her choice of outfit. “What? Is it too much? Too little?”

“Oh, uh, no, definitely not.” He shook his head fervently. “No, you look great! Uh- amazing, really.”

“Oh, thanks,” She blushed and tugged at the split in her long black skirt, pulling it lower to cover a bit more of her tanned thigh as the boy got out and pulled his seat forward for her to climb into the back. She smiled at the werewolf in the passenger seat. “Hey, Scotty boy.”

“Hey, Zaida.” He greeted her, seeming a bit downhearted. Stiles pulled out onto the road and headed towards the party away from downtown and towards the suburbs. Most of the drive was quiet, spent humming along to the faint music on the radio.

“What?” Stiles asked Scott as he parked on the crowded street and they all climbed out of the Jeep. Scott had his hands shoved into his pockets as he trudged along next to his best friend.

“What do you mean, what’?” Scott frowned at his best friend.

“I mean ‘what’, and you know what.” The boy rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“'What’ what?” The werewolf’s face twisted in confusion.

“If one more person says ‘what’ I’m going to boil both of your asses.” Zaida huffed in frustration, her heels clacking against the concrete pavement. “Just spit it out!”

“That look you were giving!” Stiles finally answered the question of what he’d been talking about. “There was a distinct look, Scott.”

“What look?” Scott let out a long and heavy sigh. “I didn't give a look…”

“The look that says the last thing you feel like doing right now is going to a party!” The boy pointed out.

“It's not that...It just seems weird, going to a different high school's party…” Scott answered apprehensively.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Zaida agreed wholeheartedly.

“What? Would you…” Stiles exclaimed incredulously and groaned. “God, one drink, all right? You'll be fine! I went to nursery school with this girl, okay? She promised to introduce us to all of her friends. So, tonight, no Allison, no Lydia. Tonight, we're moving on.”

“Oh my God, I’ve been relegated to ‘one of the boys’,” Zaida whined loudly as a cover-up while her heart sank into her stomach. Yes, she should be happy that Stiles was trying to move on from Lydia, but he'd just made it clear that he didn’t even consider her an option. What exactly was his intention tonight? Because he’d promised to stay with her the whole time, but he’d also just insinuated that he was looking for a hookup, so which was it?

“You're right.” Scott started to get excited as his best friend hyped him up. “Moving on.”

“That’s right, I’m right!” Stiles cheered. “Onward and upward!”

“Let's do this.” Scott agreed and the boys engaged in a complicated high-five secret handshake mashup, strutting towards the front door of a lit-up house as music blared from behind its walls.

“I should have gone with Allison and Lydia,” Zaida muttered to herself, already having her mood somewhat soured. She so did not want to be here anymore.

“Okay.” Scott turned to Stiles as they waited for someone to open the front door. “How's my breath smell?”

“I'm not smelling your breath.” Stiles protested impatiently.

“Do you have any gum?” The wolf asked nervously and Zaida took pity upon him.

“Here,” She pulled a packet of gum from down her corset top, plucking a stick out and offering it to him. Stiles stared at her with wide eyes. “What? Have you never seen a girl use her bra as a bag before? I didn’t have a purse that matched the outfit.”

“Thanks,” Scott took it and popped it into his mouth. “Stiles, can you at least tell us what kind of party this is?”

The door swung open before the boy could answer, and as soon as they walked inside a pretty blonde girl in tight black jeans and a cute top holding a blue solo cup smiled brightly at them. “Stiles! Hi!” She called out excitedly and rushed towards them. Zaida assumed this must be Stiles’ friend and shot the girl a friendly smile.

“Hey! There's the birthday gir-” The boy greeted but his words were cut off when the blonde immediately went in for a long and deep kiss. What the actual fuck? Zaida’s face fell into a barely concealed glare immediately as her heart clenched almost painfully in her chest.

“So glad that you made it!” The blonde batted her eyelashes at Stiles seductively when she finally pulled away and Zaida gritted her teeth to hold back from saying anything. She quickly reminded herself that she had no right to step in - Stiles was single and he was very much able to kiss anyone he wanted.

“Me, too…” He replied with a surprised and slightly overwhelmed grin. He clearly had not been expecting such a greeting, but he also wasn’t complaining.

“Come downstairs with me and help me pick out a bottle of wine...?” She asked with large, doe eyes.

“Yes.” Stiles nodded definitively and followed her into the cellar without another word, not even noticing how Zaida was glaring daggers into both of their backs.

“I can’t believe he just ditched me.” She scoffed, turning to Scott, who had just failed to chat up the blonde’s friend whom Zaida had also seen at Lydia’s party. “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party but he promised he’d stay with me tonight!”

Scott shot her an unreadable look and she furrowed her brows at him. “What? Am I overreacting?” She questioned. Perhaps her perception was being distorted by the blinding rage she was currently feeling bubble within her.

“No, you’re not. He shouldn’t have promised you that if he didn’t mean it,” Scott shrugged, speaking to her tentatively. “But, I also think you’re a little upset about more than just that.”

“What are you talking about?” She snapped defensively and at his sympathetic expression, she felt slightly guilty for taking it out on him.

“Zaida, I know,” Scott admitted in a soft tone and her heart leapt into her throat in panic.

“What?” She blanched, praying that he meant something completely different to what she thought he was insinuating.

“I can read chemosignals, remember? I know how you feel about him.” The werewolf explained gently and her breathing became short.

“Oh my God, how long have you known?” Her eyes widened in horror, mind immediately going to the fact that the two best friends normally shared everything with one another. “Does Stiles know?!”

“Since the Lacrosse final. I could smell it on you in the locker room.” He answered honestly. “Don’t worry, Stiles has no clue.”

“How could you possibly have known even before I did? That’s just…” She rubbed her fingers over her temples to ease the oncoming stress headache. “You haven’t told him yet?”

“No, I haven’t, and I’m not going to,” Scott assured her, not wanting to say too much for the sake of Stiles’ privacy, but also wanting to support her. “That’s your business, not mine. But for what it’s worth, I think he’s a complete idiot for not noticing you.”

“Guess now I know exactly what he meant about Lydia.” She snorted at that, drawing the parallels between the two situations. “I’m right in front of him, but looks straight past me - at least, in that way, he does. I thought it was just because he was so caught up on her, but he noticed that blonde girl pretty damn fast.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I can tell he doesn’t actually like her. He was just thinking with his-” Scott began but Zaida screwed her eyes shut, blocking the image of Stiles and the girl together out of her mind.

“Okay, yeah no. That doesn’t help. Like, at all.” She wrinkled her nose and tried to refrain from physically gagging as her stomach twisted sickeningly.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Scott sighed and hung his arm around her shoulders, leading her deeper into the house in search of some sort of alcohol to console her.

“Wait, but you were supposed to have fun tonight after everything that happened with-” She refrained from saying the girl’s name, not wanting to twist the knife in deeper. “I don’t want you to have to babysit me because Stiles couldn’t make good on his word. You should be having a good time.”

“And I will be - hanging out with you.” Scott smiled at her warmly. He’d grown quite fond of Zaida and just hoped that Stiles would hurry up and open his eyes soon. “I didn’t really want to be here either tonight, but at least we can keep each other company.”

“Thank you, Scott.” She said genuinely, grateful for his support. Picking a solo cup full of punch she held it up to him in a cheering motion. “To heartbreak.”

“To heartbreak,” He echoed her sentiment and took a sip from his own cup, his brows raising when he watched her completely down the entire drink in one go and reach for another.

Stiles followed after Heather down the stairs into the wine cellar. “Hey, remember when we were little kids, and we used to come down here all the time, and then we would-” He recalled the old childhood memories they’d made in that very cellar, but was swiftly interrupted by Heather’s lips on his once more. “Yeah, we never did that…”

“Stiles…” She gripped him by his shirt, tugging him along with her as she walked backwards through the aisles of wine bottles. “I just turned seventeen today...And you know what I want for my birthday?”

“A bike?” Stiles wiggled his brows and chuckled nervously, in case she wasn’t getting at what he thought she was getting at.

“To not be a seventeen-year-old virgin.” She corrected, turning them and backing him into a wall. “You've never done it before, either?”

“Turned seventeen? No, not yet, no…” He joked, not knowing how else to handle this particular situation. He’d known this girl since they were toddlers. They’d grown up together and now she was asking him to do this?

“Stiles…” Heather shot him a stern look.

“Yeah, maybe that other thing, too…” He admitted with a sigh.

“Do you want to? I mean, would you be okay with that?” She questioned, searching for his consent before moving any further. He paused to ask himself that for a moment. Did he actually want this? Instead of Lydia’s red hair and green eyes popping into his mind, Zaida’s disappointed face came to mind.

“Look, Heather, I told a friend that I’d hang out with her tonight, and I don’t wanna keep her waiting.” He brushed off the blonde’s request.

“Seriously? You’re saying no because you want to…hang out with a friend?” Heather raised her brows at him sceptically and snickered when she recalled seeing Zaida behind him at the door. “Wait, was that the brunette girl you brought with you? The one that was staring after you like someone kicked her puppy - or stole her puppy would be more accurate.”

“Hey, don’t talk about her like that.” There was an edge that crept into his tone, completely missing what Heather was saying with her joke. “I asked her to come with me and she was worried about not knowing anyone so I promised I’d stay with her.”

“Are you guys, like, together?” Heather narrowed her eyes at him, trying to get a better understanding of the situation. It wasn’t as if she liked Stiles in that way, she’d just felt the most comfortable with him and knew he was chronically single, which was why she’d chosen him for this tonight. She hadn’t wanted to step on any toes, but couldn’t fathom why he had followed her into the wine cellar if he came with another girl.

“What? No, we’re just friends. Just like you and I are just friends, Heather. That’s all.” He added pointedly, hoping she’d get the hint, and she finally did.

“Stiles, I’ve known you since we were in diapers. If you think you’re ‘just friends’ with this girl then you’re bullshitting yourself.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. “She’s cute, you should go for it.”

“First my dad, now you? What is going on with everyone?” He muttered to himself in confusion.

[elysianslove]

secret relationship; tsukishima kei, tanaka ryūnosuke, yamamoto taketora 

requested by anon(s); their respective teams finding out about their relationships 

pairings; tsukishima kei x reader, tanaka ryūnosuke x fem!reader, yamamoto taketora x fem karasuno manager!reader

genre; fluff

warnings; none! (maybe a few curse words)

note; i’m so sorry tsukki’s so much longer than the other two oh my

tsukishima kei 

━━  in your defense, neither of you had heard the blaring alarm, and supposedly, no one else in his home had either. after having unintentionally lost track of time with your boyfriend the night prior that it had gotten a little too late for you to head home safely, you’d agreed to kei’s suggestion to spend the night, and fell asleep in his arms. that wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. you couldn’t count on ten fingers the nights you’d spent at his home, waking up with your limbs tangled with his, despite the fact that he insisted cuddling was his least favorite thing to do. missing the alarm is what’s unusual. kei’s not the heaviest of sleepers, evident in the way he nearly tramples you every night, suffocating you to him and restricting your movements. the fact that he hadn’t heard it, and had left to ring annoyingly loud until it gave up was confusing enough. 

this wouldn’t pose as much of an issue if it weren’t for your situation. on the contrary, really; you loved nothing more than waking up at the hour you desire, kei still sound asleep by you. he always looked a lot calmer, a lot less tense, his mind a little quieter. his arms were caging you in, giving you enough freedom to tilt your head back and admire him, as his chest rose and fell gently, as his eyes fluttered lightly with the remnants of a dream. in the quiet of his room, you wondered what those golden irises could see. 

but of course, a sleepy, fuzzy, lovesick brain wasn’t a luxury for long, and the blurriness began to slip away, just as reality began catching up. your mind began to process the time that the clock that hung opposite you read (too late in the afternoon), then the day of the week (sunday, practice day), then, the cherry on top of the cake — the sound of heavy footsteps, too many footsteps, loud, familiar voices. and finally, the fact that you weren’t supposed to be where you were: in kei’s bed. 

you’d encountered his — friends on countless occasions, just never as his significant other. at first, it had left you slightly insecure, wondering if kei was somehow ashamed of you, embarrassed to be tied to you. eventually, however, you’d figured that it hadn’t been shame or embarrassment. he’s just a private person, and if anything, it’s possessiveness: the desire to keep you and all that you are to himself. not that he’d ever have to share once you were exclusive to his teammates, but it’s more that he also wants the idea and thought of you secret. he wants to luxury of calling you his to be private, just something he can enjoy. and maybe you liked the thrill of it too, seeing as you’d agreed, for the time being. you liked the rushed kisses in fear of getting caught, and the secret glances he’d offer you during school hours, and the way he held your hand beneath the table for no one but you to know about. you liked it, and you respected his wishes. 

when the footsteps drew closer, you realized just how screwed you are, and it would mean a lot worse for you to be caught slipping away through the window than to be caught in bed, so you lean up, hugging yourself tighter to him, and bring your lips by kei’s ear. shaking him slightly, you whisper, “baby, wake up. the boys are here.” 

kei rustles around, blinking slightly, before huffing and wrapping his arms tighter around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling incoherently. 

you stifle a laugh at his clingy reaction, wishing that this was somehow being recorded. with laughter behind your tone, you repeat your words, shaking him harsher. “kei,” you drawl, whining. “kei, we’re gonna get caught.” 

he only mumbles again, breath hot on your neck. 

“tsukki! tsukki!” 

shit, nishinoya and tanaka were also here?

“kei, baby, you are going to be mortified when you wake up,” you warn, but nonetheless, you continue to hold him to you, bringing a hand up to his hair and sighing. “don’t kick me for trying to warn you.” 

the door bursts open, followed by tanaka’s sing-song voice calling out for your boyfriend. he leads the way into the bedroom, head high and eyes closed, as him and three of kei’s teammates march in. he’s oblivious to your head peeking out beneath the crook of kei’s neck, until his eyes open, his hands faltering on his hips as he finally registers your face. 

you grin up at him, fingers waving at him in greeting. “hey,” you call out cheekily. 

tanaka freezes, head cocking to the side as he’s pushed away while the other three file in. as soon as nishinoya notices you, he clamps his hand over his mouth, his mouth wide with laughter and eyes lost in shock. yamaguchi’s face is tinted red, glance frozen at you, while sugawara, ever the sadist, laughs freely and loudly. 

“so this is why he’s late?” tanaka yells in a hushed tone. 

sugawara, still laughing, grabs his phone from his jacket’s pocket, switching to the camera app quickly and lifting it up to snap a photo. you throw up a peace sign. 

“tsukki, you ass!” nishinoya shouts, leaping quickly onto the bed, forcing you and kei to shift suddenly. “get up, get up, get the fuck up!”

the boy in your arms groans, his eyes still shut tightly as he finally loosens his hold on you, rolling onto his back. a hand is lifted up to his face as he rubs away the sleep in his eyes, while nishinoya positions himself to stand directly above him, feet on either side of his hips as he leans down, peering straight at his face. 

kei’s eyes finally open, hand falling to his side in search of yours as it always does, before he looks up, and spots nishinoya sporting the cheekiest of expressions. he sighs in preparation of the teasing to come, and exhales sharply. 

“shit.”

sugawara is yet to stop laughing. 

tanaka ryūnosuke

━━  “ryu, you’re late to practice.” 

the boy in question shushes you quietly, hugging you tighter to him as he whispers out, “five more minutes,” lips brushing against the nape of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. your back is pressed to his bare chest, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you rest a hand on that arm, stroking it gently as you try to wake him up. 

with how the boys had been progressing with volleyball, practice hours had increased, and therefore quality time with ryu had decreased. there was a little voice in the back of your head egging him on, urging you to cuddle back into him and let him nuzzle into you more, the part of you that missed him, missed all of him. there was a more logical side of you that knew better, that acknowledged all the work and effort he’d put to get where he is today, and that didn’t want him to miss out any opportunity to grow, or to put all that effort to waste. so you sigh, gripping at his forearm tightly as you try to get away. 

“come on, babe,” you whine, attempting desperately to try and get away from him. 

“woah, ryu, you got a girl with you or something?”

you freeze. ryu freezes. the world stops. 

that had definitely been nishinoya’s voice, there was no doubt about that. and it isn’t like the both of you had kept your relationship a secret from your mutual friends deliberately. it had just never came up in conversation. maybe they were just blind, honestly. there had been no hiding it: you held hands, you hugged him tight after every win, he walked you home after evening practice after school, you hung out during school all the time. so really, it isn’t your fault that no one put two and two together. 

you’d just hoped it wouldn’t be in such a comprising situation. you don’t even have pants on.

“holy shit, you do— what the fuck!” your boyfriend’s teammates scream is piercing, and eardrum shattering. you wince at the sound, fingers tightening around ryu’s arm. once nishinoya processes what he’s seen, and who he’s seen, he storms outside of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him, allowing you to listen in on his yells.

somehow, ryu’s still sleeping. 

“you guys are not going to believe what i just saw,” you hear nishinoya calling out and — holy shit, was the whole team here? was he really that late to practice? 

you manage to break free of ryu’s unrelenting grasp just as the footsteps group by your boyfriend’s bedroom door. they all walk in as you try and fix your bed hair, smiling weakly as one by one, they fill up the room. raising a hand, you sheepishly smile and wave, calling out a low, “morning everyone.” 

looking to your left, you find ryu still sleeping. with the way hinata’s bouncing over to where the two of you lay, you doubt it’ll be for long. secret was meant to be outed at some point, wasn’t it? 

yamamoto taketora 

━━  as you and your team finally arrive at your destination, nekoma high, the bus comes to a stop, parking off to the side. immediately, the boys are jumping from their seats, eager to stretch their limbs and greet their long distance friends. you, kiyoko and yachi take your time in comparison to them, gathering all your things, stretching yourselves out. yachi and kiyoko are first to leave between the three of you, working on keeping your teammates in check and making sure none drift off, while you stay behind, checking in on the bus to make sure nobody left anything behind (which you’re glad you always do, because both hinata and kageyama had forgotten their phones). stepping off the bus, you raise your arms up in a stretch, bones cracking satisfyingly. you squint up at the sun as you sigh, hand coming up to shield yourself from it. 

“shōyō, kags!” you call out, walking up to the group of boys huddled around each other, both nekoma and karasuno. “forget anything?” you place their phones in either hand, giving them playfully disapproving looks as they shamefully take it from you, red dusting their cheeks and a low sorry spilling from their lips. your expression twists into a cheerful one, and you wave them off. 

as the herd of people begins to move, you plan on following, until you hear your name yelled out loudly, in a very distinct, familiar voice. excitement overtaking you, you turn the other way, dropping your bag to the ground and jumping into the awaiting of your arms of your long distance boyfriend. 

“tora baby, i missed you!” you squeal, arms wrapping tight around his neck and legs around his waist, ankles hooked as he rocks you from side to side. he hugs you with just as much earnest, burying his face in your neck gratefully. 

he hums by your ear, pressing a wet kiss to your neck as he says, “missed you more. more than you could ever imagine.” 

you chuckle lightly to yourself, lifting your head up and leaning back to glance at him. “sap,” you tease, tilting your head closer. 

“hey, you were the one that jumped into my arms,” he argues. 

you quirk an eyebrow. “you were the one that yelled out my name and ran at me,” you retort. “like we’re in some sort of rom-com.” you’re rolling your eyes, but your heart’s beating unsteadily at the way he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. unwilling to continue your banter, having missed him, and missed kissing him too much to do so, you lift a hand to the nape of his neck and push his lips closer to yours, finally kissing him properly. 

you’re not able to enjoy it for long, feeling a hand grab at the collar of your jacket on the back of your neck. it pulls at you until you break from the kiss, until you’re forced out of your boyfriend’s arms, and stumbling onto the ground back on your feet. 

“have some decorum, manager,” daichi teases, and you roll your eyes, reaching out again for taketora. 

he takes you into his arms easily, letting you rest your head on his chest, and wrapping your arms around his waist. “he’s just jealous that we’re in love,” he jokes, and you huff out a laugh, allowing him to steer you away from the small crowd, and towards the gym, leaving your boys and his teammates behind. 

“am i the only one that’s like, shocked?” ennoshita breaks the silence. 

“really? i’m more heartbroken,” nishinoya joins in, earning a smack from daichi. 

tanaka breathes in steadily. “kiyoko-san, please don’t be next,” he pleads. 

“tanaka-san, please stop being dramatic.” 

[ktheist]

1 | play me like a toy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read the last part, all yours to enjoy, here.

muses. mafia heiress!reader x ex-mafia!director!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia family au. arranged marriage au. office au. modern au.

words. 5.8k

warnings. contains smut. mentions of gun use. mentions of cheating.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. 

synopsis. 

sit still, look pretty. 

such were the words your maid-turned-mistress of a mother has ever taught you. the mindless marionette mask worked for the most parts. but when you find yourself hanging by a thread - or is it the beeping line of your dying father’s heart rate monitor? - you decide it’s time to shed off that mask and seek han group’s infamous loyal dog that went off radar 17 years ago.

jung hoseok.

alternatively;

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

jung hoseok is in a dry spell.

there was no doubt as to whether he could score a date, get laid and maybe even have his nightstand to call him up again exactly the week after.

the issue was time.

with his boss and longtime friend getting married, he ends up coming to work with a different pile of papers on his desk every day. well, it was his idea to sign a promissory note that if kim namjoon ever found a woman he loved and married, hoseok would take half of the ceo-ly workload so his overbearing boss could enjoy his honeymoon and truly, as hoseok would put it, live.

the order went a little differently but namjoon found a hole in the way the sentences were worded that got him flying away to the caribbean and leaving hoseok to fend for himself in these trying times.

oh, and it’s almost hit the third month of the newly weds going mia.

in the first place, he didn’t think namjoon would hold the agreement over his head like he was flexing a few hundred thousand dollar’s worth of lawsuit.

but the man did just that and now hoseok is slaving over his nine-to-five which actually tend to drag on till ten or, if he’s lucky, even midnight. sure, he got promoted from head secretary to director but he’s wondering if this endless cycle of coming back home only pass out in the bed and wake up earlier than a parent with a toddler - is worth it.

hoseok groans, his hand grabbing around for his phone to put a stop on that obnoxious alarm even if it’s just for five minutes before he has to hear it again.

and grab something he did, but this so called phone feels too soft to be a phone and shapes like an cup but softer and - he puts more pressure to his grasp out of confusion -

“mhm, what the hell?”

- it complains in a groggy voice too.

almost as if pricked by a needle, hoseok leaps right out of bed, sending the duvet flying to the floor and revealing the naked woman - you - who’s stretching her limbs whilst her face scrunches in displeasure at the rude awakening.

“__-___?! wh-what the- what are you doing in my bed?”

x

“so you touched my boob,” you say, legs crossed and arms folded over said boob.

“i-i-” it’s the first time you’ve ever seen hoseok opened his eyes so wide - he has pretty eyes. especially when they’re brimming with fear and bashfulness, “i’m sorry, i have no excuse.”

he hangs his head low.

“why didn’t you touch the other one?”

it’s then, when hoseok’s eyes snap up to you, gaze searching for a sign - any sign, to confirm that he misheard that, does the man realize that you’re messing with him.

that, and you doubling over with laughter trickling out of your mouth should be affirmation enough.

“god, you should’ve seen your face, hobi!” you’re still holding your stomach when hoseok’s shoulders stiffen and his round eyes turn sharp.

“that’s not something you joke about, ___,” he says, it’s easy to mistake his sternness with anger if you didn’t know him your whole life, “are you gonna let it go every time someone disrespects you? mr. han would’ve snapped their neck in half-”

“hoseok, come on,” you cut him off with a dismissive hand, “none of those gory talks about snapping necks and pulling out nails. that’s the reason i end up here in the first place.”

it’s the way silence lulls into the room and hoseok looks at you with the hardest knitted brows and eyes that seem to have retracted his soul far back into his memories, as though searching for something - that makes your heart drop.

all sense of humor now gone.

“you don’t remember what happened last night... do you?” the last part is just an addition to ease your throbbing heart.

if you’d left it as a statement, it made it more real that he did forget.

just a man, sitting at a half empty bar, three shots of vodka in and hostility in his voice that could’ve killed but so very hoseok of him, “that seat’s taken.”

aloof. distant. and every word in the book that described a man who didn’t want to be bothered and he drowned himself in alcohol.

“i’ll leave once the owner comes back,” you’d slipped into the seat anyway, despite the heat of hoseok’s stare.

not paying any heed, you ordered yourself a margarita.

“it’s been awhile, hasn’t it, hobi?”

that’s when he turned to you. truly looked at you.

“do you perhaps have a little sister who,” his eyebrows began to knit as if the screws in his head started turning, “would be about your age by now... ____?”

you didn’t really catch up. all you could remember was hoseok’s calculative stare as he watched you down one drink after the other. the the chilliness of the margarita somewhat soothing the burning sensation as it went down your throat.

“that’s the fifth for you,” his large hand covered yours, stopping you from picking up the glass as he cautioned you.

“yeah? i’m only stopping if i have something else to occupy my mouth with.”

in his distracted state as he tried to make sense of what your words meant, you lifted the glass to your mouth and downed the last of your drink.

and then, you stood up, walked the tiniest distance between your seat and his, grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips on his.

you remembered your confidence dissipating like air with every second passing without hoseok so much as responding to your kiss.

maybe it was the shock.

because one that passed, you found his arm around your waist and his lips kissing you harder than you kissed him.

you stumbled into your car, not caring if yeojun had a front row view from the rearview mirror of the things that transpired at the back seat. you barely remember the walk from the parking lot to his apartment.

those sweet whispered promises. the hands that burned your skin with every touch. those eyes that pierced right into your eyes, as if invisible hands reached into your soul and grasped it in his palm.

“mine,” hoseok husked, voice sending ripples of pleasure dripping down your legs. he’d thrust himself balls deep inside you, like a beast who hadn’t had a drop of water since the drought, “you’re mine from head to toe.”

if that wasn’t enough, he fucked you raw until you were at your limit and he’d just... stop.

“hoseok, why-” you’d been breathless, skin glistening with sweat and knees trembling to give in but he’d banded an arm under your torso and held you to him so your bodies remained connected even if none of you moved.

“you think i’d just let you cum so easily?” he placed a hand on your ass, as if warning you what would happen if you’d pull away, “after all these years... you grew up fine as fuck.”

he’d languidly pulled out of you, as if knowing how torturous it felt for you with his fingers on your clit that sent electricity through your veins.

“what is it, hm? is it the kang’s or is it the seong’s? i guess the rumor about boss being hospitalized was true,” his words barely registered in your mind as his index finger touched your back and traced down your spine whilst he started thrusting in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“please, just fuck me,” you’d hissed, pain and pleasure and frustrations mixed in your voice.

“hm, still as tight-lipped as ever, huh?” he’d sounded completely relaxed as if the smacking sound that echoed in the air as his body slammed against your deliciously - didn’t affect him in the slightest.

as if he took no pleasure in fucking you. as if this was only for your poor little soul that came running back to him because you had no one to depend on.

“y-you have to- ah! s-swear your l-loyalty to- oh my god,” it was last night, while the citylights poured through hoseok’s window, his room was directly across another apartment building.

“loyalty, huh?” he tested the words on his mouth, as if it was a foreign candy gifted to him as present.

his body feels hot against your back as he lowered himself flush against you, his breath fanning your sweat-glistened skin, his voice brushing the shell of your ear, “you should know i’m yours as much as you’re mine. nothing i wouldn’t do for you, kiddo.”

he’d used that nickname he’d used to call you as he fucked you into his bed, and sent you moaning his name like you wouldn’t know any other name.

anyone could’ve seen.

neither of you cared though.

well-

you throw your gaze out at the twenty storey building, noticing a man vacuuming the living room three units to the left from the unit directly across from hoseok’s. above him, two kids, a boy and a girl are jumping around while holding an airplane in their hands.

-until now, that is.

hoseok had become an entirely different person last night. no - rather, he’d returned to you as the man you’d always kept in that special spot in your heart and locked it up so no one would be able to see past your steel schooled expression and the devil may care nature.

“i...”

your gaze snaps back to hoseok once again. he parts his lips for the briefest moment, as if to say something but clamps them shut again. the way his eyes gleam with guilt is enough to tell you the unspoken words that hang in the air.

and yet, your heart hardens like the steel mask you often wear on your face.

“and... to think i gave you my virginity too...”

the silence that lapses between you is tangible.

“sike, i’m kidding,” you grin, brows rising to the ceiling but when hoseok doesn’t so much as laugh or frown - he simply looked at you like a parent disappointed of his child who still didn’t see why what she did was wrong - you tilt your head to the side slightly, “or am i?”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you throw your head back after failing to gouge a reaction from the man who screamed bloody murder as if you’re some street rat that he was so close to calling infestation control.

“i need to meet mr. han,” he announces after a whole solid minute of sitting on the edge of the bed with feet planted on the floor.

“what for? what are you gonna tell daddy? ‘i’m sorry i took your daughter’s virginity, sir, it won’t happen again?’“ you watch him get up, tongue unconsciously slipping out and sweeping over your bottom lip as you watch the curve of his ass as he walks to the closet and disappears into it.

“were you really a virgin?” he comes out dressed in fresh crisp button down tucked in a pair of black pants, a contrast to his rolled up sleeves, creased shirt and disheveled hair from last night.

“i don’t know, did it feel like i was?” you shoot him a coquettish smile.

the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his lingering gaze on your crossed, bare legs not going unnoticed by you. you’re donned in last night’s dinner dress that hugs your curves and stops mid thighs.

but his gaze is gone too soon.

“you’re not seriously going to daddy, are you?” you tug on his sleeve just before he steps out of the door, “hobi, i’m just kidding, i’ve been with multiple guys before you,” the way his brows threaten to knit into a frown doesn’t go pass you but it’s gone too soon, “and does daddy like the idea? he’s not fond of it, but he knows he can’t stop me from doing whatever i want with my own body.”

the beep of the door as he opens it rings in the air as he looks at you in the eye, “did any of those men work for mr han?” 

only silence follows his reply as you bite your lower lip, hesitant.

“we can’t hide this- mr han might already know. he has eyes and ears-” hoseok steps out of the door only to stop dead in track when he sees at least half a dozen men lined up in front of his apartment in black suits.

“good morning, miss ____.” they bow at exactly 90 degrees angle like robots.

“-everywhere...” hoseok trails off, eyes scanning the area on high alert.

“don’t worry, they’re not daddy’s men. they’re my men,” you raise one hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling as you shoot them an expression void of any smile.

they seem to understand that as they dip into a bow again, the leader, yeojun, stops in front of the elevator when he and his men would have joined you in any other circumstances.

“it’s not about saving my own ass, ___,” hoseok begins.

the way his arms cross over his chest makes his sleeves wrap deliciously around his biceps.

his deep brown eyes appear like a hazel storm under the sunlight that pours from every crevice of the parking lot where the elevator stopped at. “mr. han asked me to protect you from everything and i’m sure he hired someone else after i left to keep trash men away from you... and to think i did exactly what he wanted me to protected you from-” 

“hobi,” nimble hands hover over his chest before you gaze up at him through your lashes, making sure to give it a slow, innocent blink before speaking, “i didn’t regret what happened last night. and you trying to apologize for someone i’m not sorry kind of hurts.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t think of it that way...” he trails off, lips pressed in a straight line as though deep in thought.

“if it makes you that uncomfortable, i won’t talk about it but promise me this stays between us, please?” you hold up a pinky finger like you would when you were younger.

the smile that makes its way to hoseok lips causes your heart to palpitate just when it’s barely calmed down.

his pinky finger is much larger than yours as it hooks around yours in a promise, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. as if he’s still unsure if he should be making any promises. as if he’s unsure if he should be hooking his pinky with yours instead of pushing you as far away from him as he could. but before he can come to a conclusion, a voice reverberates into the air.

“miss ____.”

the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath rings in your ear as a dozen men in black suits bow at the sight of you.

before another word comes out from anyone else, you speak, voice echoing against the walls.

“listen up you sons of bitches, if i find out any of you snitched to daddy, i’ll make sure your wife, your husband, your kids, your grandparents, hell even your neighbors pay for it. got it?”

a round of rigorous “yes, miss!” follows after the splitting silence that hovered after you finished.

turning around, almost getting lost in those pretty, star entrapped eyes of his, you smile, “see, they’re loyal to me.”

“uh, i can see why.” it’s the humorous tone that finally wraps around hoseok’s words that makes your heart clench painfully.

he’s still the same hoseok you know.

some things never change.

“well, i’ll lend you one of my cars,” you say all of a sudden.

almost as if hit by a foul ball, hoseok’s eyes widen, “shi- what time is it?”

you don’t expect much when you check your phone, the digits on the screen staring back with a 9-something am - you don’t care to check the details, “late.”

“fuck, i was so focused on gathering enough balls to meet mr. han - i need to get the papers i was supposed to look over for today’s meeting,” a string of curses follow hoseok’s scampering retreat. and you simply watch in your spot - he’s always been such a klutz, forgetting the important details and scrambling to get what he’d forgotten and just remembered - done.

before the doors of the elevator close and swallow him in its belly, hoseok’s nimble fingers slip between the shutting gap, making the doors split open again, “oh,” he says, as if remembering something, “you don’t have to do that - i can drive, i got a driver’s license like, eons ago.”

right.

when he left, he was only 18 and had nothing more but a duffle bag filled with all his belongings and an acceptance letter of the university he applied to.

hoseok had been driving you around everywhere before that. he got pulled over by a cop once but your father easily handled that.

jung hoseok’s been with you for as long as you remember.

you recall bawling your eyes out and clinging onto his leg, begging him not to leave because your nanny left and you found out a few months later that her body was found washed up along the river bank near her hometown.

mr. kim, the gardener quit and said he wanted to visit his kids but the whole family ended up dying in a fire.

everyone who left ends up dead.

pushing the somber feeling that’s threatening to pull the muscles in your face into a frown, you shake your head, an amused smirk tugging on your lips as you mask away every other feeling.

“you really don’t remember anything, do you?” somewhere in that innocently clueless gaze of his, you search for a lie - it would’ve been better if he lied about forgetting for whatever reason.

but when the genuinity over pours from those pretty eyes, you push away the gnawing feeling in your heart, “we were both shit faced drunk last night so we came to your place with my driver and you left your car at the bar’s parking lot.”

“oh shit,” he begins punching the button on the inside of the elevator, “i won’t take long, i pro-”

the metal doors gradually shut, cutting off what he was about to say.

x

“p-please, i’m sorry, i’ll do anything...” the man’s words got blurred out as you stare out the window of his medium sized flat with a master bedroom, a room and a bathroom connected to the common area.

it’s been a week since you met hoseok. you want to be mad that he doesn’t call, especially after not seeing each other for so long and finally reuniting only for him to forget everything about that night.

but you didn’t even give him your number and you may or may not be mad that he didn’t think to ask.

a bloodcurdling scream drums against your eardrums, making you physically flinch as your head snaps towards the man lying on the ground with his mouth wide open and no longer any sound coming out.

his head is titled at the new guy who’s standing over him with a baton gripped in one hand. the sight itself makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“god fucking damn it, yeojun,” you shoot a glare at the head bodyguard, “didn’t you teach him rule number 1? make no sound, catch no attention?”

at that, yeojun snaps his fingers and two of the bodyguards closest to the new guy - soon? soobin? was his name? - approach him. one of them places a firm hand on his shoulder whilst he kicks soobin behind his knee, sending him kneeling with a thud.

“i’m sorry, miss ___, it seems soobin,” ah so you did get his name right, “needs to join mr. yoo here in learning a thing or two about obeying orders.”

yeojun doesn’t even flinch when one of your donned-in-black bodyguard strikes one of their own at the back of his head with that baton they usually carry around their waist.

soobin’s face scrunches up painfully as he breathes out through his nose, teeth gritting together.

“you boys, break some things and you, get the car ready,” with that, the bodyguards hovering over the middle-aged borrower and soobin begin scampering around, toppling shelves over, pushing vases to the ground and breaking plates in the kitchen.

“you were too nice,” yeojun murmurs underneath his breath once you’re in the hallway, the sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking still echo off the walls.

“i shouldn’t even be doing this shit anyway. who does he think i am? sending me to take care of small fries...” agitated, you shoot yeojun a glare.

to which he only responds with raised eyebrows, as if asking if you’d go against your brother’s orders just because you’ve never liked to see violence yet violence follows you everywhere.

“let’s see.... richest bachelor, heir to han group, one of the biggest conglomerate family that runs the underground ring...” the black haired man starts counting off with his finger until you swing your purse to his side.

“which side are you on? me or my chanyeol’s?!”

laughter trickles down his lips as he follows you into the elevator. somewhere in the distance, the hallway faintly rings with the fading sound of mr. yoo’s helpless pleas.

x

when you arrive at kimcorp, the secretary shoots up from your seat, her smile is gorgeous and welcoming but the knitted set of brows above her eyes do a poor job of hiding her anxiousness.

odd.

you didn’t use the han name to get past the receptionist, only mentioning “hoseok is expecting me, tell him i have something of his he’d really like back.”

was it the lavish dinner dress? was it the couture handbag?

“ah, it’s the fox fur, isn’t it?” you twirl on your heels, lips curling prettily as you narrow your eyes at the startled secretary.

she’s standing there like a thief caught red-handed. as if her worst nightmares came true the moment you started saying something besides the “i’m here to see jung hoseok.”

“i-i’m sorry, ma’am?” her shoulders tense up and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“nothing, it’s nothing,” you put on a billion dollar smile - one that she seems to be struggling to wear.

before the poor thing peed her pants, you turn around, your back on her and push on the double doors of the office with a white plate that spells out “head director jung.”

the syllables of your name roll off the mouth of the man behind the large desk that almost takes up half of the room, piles of documents stacked up on either sides while the middle section is cleared for a mac and a macbook perched directly in front of him.

“you sound surprised, didn’t the receptionist tell you i was coming?” you put on your best smile even as you watch him push a button on a smaller-than-a-palm-sized remote directed at the cctv and dash for the blinds and close them so that the secretaries facing his room won’t have any visual access to what goes on from now on.

“yeji didn’t specify who,” he says mindlessly, still peeking through the blinds - possibly to check if anyone noticed the sudden move.

somehow, hearing the name of another woman leaving hoseok’s lips doesn’t sit right with you.

“since you easily told her to send me right up, i assume you have an idea of who it was,” a devious smile tugs in the corners of your lips as the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath brushes your ears.

as he was in the middle of turning around and facing you, you managed to catch him off guard and trap him between the window and yourself. the ridges of his toned abs brushing against your front torso with only layers of clothing separating you.

the warning tone he uses to say your name with is music to your ears.

he sounded like the old him. the old hoseok who’d drive his fist into anyone’s face without batting an eye. the old hoseok who would turn to your crying frame with the sweetest smile and hand you back your backpack that fell on the ground amidst the struggle of trying to bite and kick your kidnappers in the shin.

“i missed you, you know?” your voice is tinged with playfulness but your heart skips a beat like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“i-i... we...”

the words get stuck in his throat the moment your lips brush his. what surprises you is the softest sigh that leaves his mouth before a large hand buries itself in your hair, pulling you close until he’s tasting you. licking your bottom lip as if asking for something he didn’t need to ask for in the first place.

his free hand grasps your ass as if he’s been dying to feel your soft cheeks in his palm. you part your lips for him, tasting the faintest sense of cigarette in his breath.

hoseok tends to smoke when something bothers.

you hope it’s you. you hope he lays in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. you hope you’re all he thinks about.

by the time you pull apart, you’re both heaving for air. a soft thud drums in your ears as hoseok leans his head against the blinds-covered-window. you press your cheek against his chest, face hot.

one of his hands sits on top of your ass as if paying his overdue respect for your body but yet unwilling to let you go. the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb mindlessly caressing your scalp.

“hoseok?” you’re the first to break the silence.

he simply hums in response, “hm?”

“i can’t give it back,” you turn your cheek to bury your face in his chest, your voice coming out muffled, “i can’t give back your freedom.”

x

“so you’re saying you can’t let me go...” hoseok echoes the words you say to him.

but the way his lips curl into a pleased smirk and his white shirt creasing at the front from having your bodies pressed together a moment ago, gives those words a different meaning than you intend them to.

somehow, the distance between you seems smaller.

“thanks miyeon,” hoseok’s smile switches to that of a kind, considerate superior.

miyeon, the woman who guided you to hoseok’s office returns his smile. but you don’t miss the cautious gaze she throws your way before slipping out of the room after setting down the tea cups.

he’s back to himself. the kind that jumps at every little sound and tends to wear a frightened puppy look almost too often.

“no, rather...” you trail off, chanyeol’s face burning at the back of your mind - your brother, the heir to han group and the man that will marry you off to the kang’s in order to mend the strain in the family ties as soon as your father breathes out his last breath.

you shake your head, a smile on your face, “it’s been awhile, how bout catching up over lunch?”

and so it goes, you visit hoseok every few days in a week. at times you tell the secretary to keep your visit a secret so you could surprise him, you’d end up catching him neck deep in work yet he still manages to pull off the rolled up sleeves, two buttons undone and slicked back hair with a single strand falling over his forehead, its tip grazing those set of strong eyebrows.

when you knock, he looks up and the tension in his brows seem to fade away. he shoots you a dimpled smile as if he’s been waiting for you to whisk him away from work.

and you do just that. arm looped around his, you both walk out of his office like lovers.

hoseok talks about his past - the one you’re not part of - fondly. as if looking through a lense of something he never dreamed he could have.

at first, he attracted the wrong kind of crowd with his permanently set furrowed brows. but then he finds things he enjoys doing outside of classes that he couldn’t get to enjoy when he was with han group.

dancing, tracks, boxing and more. he likes that rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins. 

and you tell him about the meetings and gatherings and social events to maintain your relationships with the vassal families. they’re usually attended by the women of the han family which means you and han chohee would be smiling and laughing together in front of the wives and daughters of the vassal families before taking off that loving step-mother-and-step-daughter facade once you walk out of the vicinity.

your lunches and dinners are spent with trips down memory lane, filling the other in on the moments each of you miss in each other’s lives. and for a moment, the hoseok in front of you who flinches at the sight of bugs and little, random noises feel familiar.

that is, until you hit your one month reunion mark.

chanyeol’s been gathering support of the vassals by personally accepting their invitations.

his presence easily overshadowed yours and yeojun confirmed that your father’s condition isn’t getting any better.

“i need you to come back and work for me, half of the men would drop everything and follow you,” you stare at the girl staring back at you on the surface of the tea. she bites her lips and you feel the faintest taste of blood in your mouth.

eyes snapping to his calculative ones - as if he already knows what you’re going to say before the words even pass your lips, “i need you by my side so i can take over han group.”

the hoseok sitting in the single couch next to you with parted legs and feet planted on the dark carpeted ground fits the head director setting better than the inked skin, cigarette smoke and gun-in-waistline setting you’re about to drag him in.

“you’re willing to go against chanyeol to become the head of the family?” he asks, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

hoseok’s always been an enigma. his mind, a maze you’ll never end up figuring out.

guess that part of him is still the same.

“it’s not a choice for me to make,” a clean click! resonates in the air as you place the gun you’d pulled from your garter, point facing him, index finger on the trigger, “you have two though.”

it’s the way his eyebrows rise whilst his eyes glint with amusement tells you that hoseok - your hoseok - is still somewhere in there.

throw a sane man into an asylum and he’ll start going insane. put a mad man  back in society and he’ll trick you into believing he’s sane with his warm, dimpled smile.

“marry me or be killed,” you say simply.

that amused glint is still there, granted, it shines faintly compared to the caution that overflows from those sun-hit brown eyes as they fix themselves on the gun perched on the see-through coffee table before they travel to your knuckles, to your arm and meet your steel gaze.

his the softest protrusion of his adam’s apple drops and rises again as he swallows, “is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the air is dense with tension. it fills up your lungs and almost causes your chest to cave. you’re not sure how long to stay there, stiff and still like a rock with your back straightened as if your etiquette teacher was hovering right behind you with a long, wooden ruler that’d be ready to strike your arm at a slump of your shoulders.

but liberation comes to you in the form of a phone call.

“___, we have to go, th-the boss- the doctor says he’s not gonna make it through the night.” it’s the first time you’ve heard yeojun stammer as if he hasn’t quite yet recovered from the shock of the news he’s relaying to you.

“are you sure?” you can almost hear the thump of the organ in your chest slowing down before it ceases to throb completely, “you know how bad chanyeol wanna fuck me up, he could’ve made the doctor tell you this because he knows you’ll tell me and if... if i rush there and daddy’s laughing that obnoxious laugh while trying to make pass on the nurse like he usually does...”

yeojun grunts, “yes, ___. i have men planted there as patients, nurses, janitors and they all say the same thing - that the doctors are rushing to the vip ward and they’re trying to make it look like your usual hourly check up but it’s not... look, this is the real thing. if we mess up, there won’t be another chance. now, did you convince hoseok to come back?”

almost as if reminded that you’re not the only person in the room, your eyes snap to hoseok whose eyes are already fixed on you with a concerned expression.

“he’ll come back.” with that, you hang up the call.

“i’d love for you to think it through for a few days, realize this isn’t really a life you want and come to me on your own to sign our prenups,” you say casually, placing down the teacup and slipping your phone back into your handbag as if you’re getting ready to leave the tea party, “but...”

but before you can lift the gun and fully point it at him, a large hand covers yours. his warmth seeps through your pores and makes your body feel warmer.

“the gun’s a bit excessive,” his breath fans your face as your eyes fix on the supple skin of his neck.

it’s as if invisible hands reached out and held your head in place, forbidding you from tilting it and gazing into his eyes. his fingers reach over the back of the gun, grazing your hands.

a click cuts through the silence.

“at the very least, unlock the safety,” his teasing tone doesn’t match his saddened eyes.

and just as you thought you’d closed the distance between you and him, the circumstance forces you to take five steps back.

[detroitbecomeyandere]

More dolphin bois, the whole scenario of a merman trapping you on an island and him being the only contact with anyone has been one I have always loved. Only this time it's 6 mermen who jump your bones everytime you get close to the water.

After you woke up on the shore you kept as far away from the shore as possible, you crept close to it once and in the distance saw the merman surface and swam towards you. So you decided to venture inland there you found a couple of fruit trees, a small fresh spring and you even lucked out and found some old fabric and rope and fashioned a makeshift dress from it. Even though you were technically alone you still felt like their eyes were on you no matter how deep inside the forest you were. 

You spend a week hiding in the trees but eating only fruit gets old quickly so deciding to chance it you creep towards the edge of the trees, you sit there for an hour just watching. Once you're sure they aren't in the area you make your way to the water. You hesitate at the edge but the pain in your stomach forces you forward, you stay in the shallows and look for little crabs or some muscles. Your hunt distracts you enough for one of the mermen to ram into you sending you face first into the water. Hands pull you on to your hands and knees, your face barley above the water. From the corner of your eye you see that it's Connor behind you, you try and swing back at him but that throws you off balance and your face plunges under the water. Soft hands grasp your shoulders and help you regain your balance. 

Knowing there is nothing you can do to get out of this situation you screw your eyes shut and bite your tongue. Connor's hand push up your makeshift dress and kneeds the plump flesh of your ass, his hips start to rut against your backside as his cock starts to pop out from his slit. It doesn't take long for him to become completely erect, curiosity gets the better of you and you crack your eyes. When everything happened before it was all underwater in a dimly lit cavern so you hadn't really seen what their penises looked like. His cock was a soft fleshy pink and had a  smooth texture, the head was thin it moved like it had a mind of its own, rubbing and touching every inch of your skin it can reach. The base of his cock was thick and if it hadn't been inside you a week ago you would have be scared it would tear you apart. 

Connor keeps rutting his hips against your ass, his rod rubbing directly against your clit sending shocks of pleasure through your body. The more worked up he gets the more clicks, moans and groans he lets out. Without warning Connor pushes his entire length inside you and sets a brutal pace, every thrust forcing your face closer to the water. The tip of his cock twists around inside you, pressing against your cervix with every thrust. The sensation sends you closer and closer to your climax, your soft walls clamping tightly around the invading member. Connor leans over your body and bite down on your neck not hard enough to break your skin but the pain is enough to push you over the edge. Connor's nails dig into your hips and cause blood to trickle down your thighs, his thrusts getting harder his tip kissing your cervix with every roll of his hips. 

With a final thrust Connor spills his seed into you, ropes of it splashing against your womb. Connor lets go of your neck and pants in your ear, your forhead drops into the water as you try to catch your breath. He places soft kisses along your neck, the lack of food and exhaustion makes your head swim. Before you black out you hear Connor growl out one word.

"Mate." 

The next time you wake up you are back on the shore, your dress hiked up to your cum covered thighs. You sit up and wince at the sting between your legs, tears well up in your eyes as you lean forward and cup water in your hands so you can wash away the sticky fluid. Once it's all gone you notice six dorsal fins in the bay, sobs wrack your body as the reality of the situation finally hits you. This is your life now.

[tothemeadow]

these Mario kart AUs are killing me 😭 Ok so, after that little um..’display’ lol, It’s come down to this...Girls vs boys..The reader with the girls competing in the hardest mode: ☀️S h i n e T h e i f☀️ Empress-Sama can pick the punishment 👀

‘to claim victory pt. 3′ / Pillars x Reader

warnings: slight NSFW

words: 1,556

(a/n): Muichiro is 18+ in this! 

also, one word: femdom

-

This is it.

This is your chance.

You’ve come so far, and you are not going to give up. Failure is a well-known friend by now, lingering on your shoulders and whispering words of doubt into your ears. There is nothing left to lose, now, and you’re going to give it your all.

The same can be said for Shinobu and Mitsuri. Like you, they’re tired of facing a loss and crave after the sweet taste of victory. The other team – the guys – have had far too good for far too long. It’s their turn for them to plead for forgiveness, to kneel at your feet and cry for mercy.

You’re so damn hungry for power. It’s well within your grasp, inches away. You are not going to lose this time. Boys be damned.

Stripped down to your undies, your flesh bears fresh goosebumps. The heat radiating off of Tengen and Kyojuro is downright pleasant, and you desire to have them cling onto you. But no, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted.

Your character frantically chases after Shy Guy, gradually closing in on his little buggy. The Shine Sprite hanging above him sticks out like a sore thumb, and you’re practically salivating to get a hold of it. You wait until you’re directly behind and take your aim.

“It’s nothing personal, Gyomei,” you speak.

At that, your character whips a green shell at Shy Guy. The Shine Sprite flies off, allowing you to quickly grab onto it before zooming away.

“Dammit,” Tengen curses by your side.

“Oh my gosh!” Mitsuri cries out. “We got it! We got it!”

“Don’t lose focus, Mitsuri,” Shinobu is quick to respond. “(y/n),” she says to you, “we’ll cover you.”

“Like hell you will,” Giyuu grunts.

Yoshi comes barreling towards your character. Boo King slams straight into him, effectively keeping him from reaching you.

“Thanks, Shinobu!”

“Oi, jackass,” Sanemi barks at his teammate, “don’t fuck this up!”

Your heart thuds with every beeping second. Twenty seconds left. You have to hold onto it for thirty. You must.

Again and again, the guys either launch themselves or an attack at you, but either one of the girls comes to your aid just in time or you somehow dodge it. Isabelle is hot on your heels. Waluigi is charging straight towards you. There are only moments to make a decision.

Screw it, you think as you rear your character to the side. You can hear both Muichiro and Obanai muttering curses.

Ten seconds left.

Your skin is absolutely crawling.

“Give it up!” Kyojuro taunts in his usual happy-go-lucky way. He tries to be intimidating while playing games, but he’s really not.

“Kiss my ass,” you toss back. You flash him a smile right when the clock reaches zero.

“No!” all of the boys shout.

“Yes!” the girls cheer.

Giyuu merely sighs and sets his device to the side.

Mitsuri wildly claps her hands. “(y/n), you did it! You really did it!” You quickly hop up from your seat to meet her hug.

Shinobu comes to stand next to the two of you, a dark glint in her eyes. Her lips curl into a sadistic smile. “Girls,” she begins, using a low voice, “you know what this means.”

A similar smile appears on your own face. It’s time for revenge.

The three of you simultaneously turn to the guys.

“Alright,” Shinobu continues, crossing her arms. “Now it’s our turn to pick the punishment.”

A round of grumbles comes as a reply. The guys are in no place to be angry, especially since all of them agreed to the conditions.

Shinobu claps her hands together. “Alright, gentlemen, please do us a favor and strip.”

You bite your lip and share a sneaky smile with Mitsuri.

Their reactions are amusing, to say the least. Of course, Tengen has no issue with whipping off his clothes and showing off all his glory. Kyojuro doesn’t mind, but is face turns red while he does so. Sanemi and Obanai only seem annoyed by the ordeal. The rest reluctantly do as told, an anxious expression written across theirs features. Soon enough, the room is filled with half naked men.

Mitsuri’s face blows with a bright pink. “Oh, wow.”

You agree. You know all of the guys spend a lot of time working on their physiques, but to see them up close and personal? It’s incredible.

Tengen flexes as your gaze flicks over his torso. “Like what you see, sweetheart? I know, this is quite some prize,” he purrs.

Shinobu rolls her eyes. “Pick two,” she says to you and Mitsuri. “I think we should give them a taste of their own medicine, don’t you agree?”

Your dominant side perks at the suggestion. It’s revenge, alright. And if you can get the guys as embarrassed and flustered as they made you, then sobeit. Humming, you tap your chin, eyes scanning over the different guys. “I want him,” you say, pointing at Sanemi, “and him.” Your finger lands at Muichiro.

“Alright,” Sanemi growls, “let’s get this shit going, then.”

You meet his challenge with a shark-toothed smile.

It’s funny that Sanemi is trying to pass as unbothered about the whole thing. For one, he hates to lose. Second, you can see the subtle shifts in his character. The light trembling. The way he swallows harder than usual. You’re already affecting him and you haven’t done anything yet. Taking a seat next to him, you bat your eyelashes at him.

“I promise I won’t bite.”

Sanemi scoffs at your obvious bluff. He knows it’s a personal jab; he’s into biting himself, and the mark on Mitsuri’s shoulder says it all.

Kyojuro’s sudden giggling catches your attention. Turning to him, you see Mitsuri peppering kisses up and down the column of his neck. Oh, so he’s sensitive? You’ll have to keep that in mind. On the other hand, Shinobu is sitting on Gyomei’s lap. Compared to his massive size and her tiny one, she’s more of a doll sitting in his lap rather than a human.

Fingers dig into your fleshy hip. “Stop watching them,” Sanemi growls, just low enough for you to hear. Jealousy laces his words, and it’s clear as day. Heat spikes up your back.

You cast your attention back to him and click your tongue. “Brat,” you hiss. His fingers dig into you harder. “Don’t be so upset,” you breathe into his ear. “I’ll mark you, okay?”

A heavy breath passes through Sanemi’s nose as you nibble at his earlobe. Lips skimming his sharp jawline, your lids fall into a sultry squint. Sanemi gulps.

It starts with a few light kisses situated under his jaw. You soon grow bolder; it turns into open mouthed kisses, sensuous licks. You take delight in how much he’s trembling. His hand forces your thigh over his legs so that you’re half-straddling him. Although he’s acting extremely bratty, he knocks his head to the side when you suckle on his flesh.

Other sounds fill the room. They’re mostly grunts and little pleasured sighs, but there’s also impatient ones mingling with them. Seems like the others are impatient for their punishment.

Sanemi’s openly groping and kneading your thigh now. You swat his hand away as a warning, but it goes unheeded. You sink your teeth into him in return.

“Fuck!” Sanemi barks.

“Shit,” Tengen mutters off to the side.

Your fingers grip onto his hair and jaw, keeping him in place. After a few moments, your tongue licks over the fresh bitemark and you pull away. You flash Sanemi a devilish grin as he scowls back at you, his chest heaving. Gingerly, you grab him by the wrist and take his hand off of your thigh.

“What did I tell you?” you whisper. “Now you’re bearing my mark - just like you wanted, right?”

Sanemi inhales sharply through his teeth.

Picking yourself into a stand, you look to Muichiro. From his spot on the floor, he looks impossibly tiny. His brilliant eyes widen as you cross over and stand directly in front of him.

“Sit back,” you order him.

And just like that, Muichiro snaps from his hunched position and leans back, his palms pressed to the floor. You quickly drop to the floor, a leg swinging over him; as you straddle him, you press your hands flush to his exposed abdomen.

“I wonder where I should mark you,” you murmur, mimicking the words he said to you earlier. “You think you’re always so sly, Mui. Maybe I should put you in your place.”

Your words take him by surprise. Leaning down, you pick your spot on his collarbone. Muichiro’s high-pitched gasp fills your ears, fuels that growing fire inside of you. You suckle on his skin languidly, dragging your tongue and your teeth whenever you feel like it. Muichiro’s muscles flex underneath your hands.

“Such a good, pretty boy,” you mumble offhandedly. “You’re not a brat like Sanemi.”

To your surprise (and delight), a soft moan breaks through his lips. Color immediately colors his face and Muichiro promptly clamps his mouth shut. Pulling away, you lick your lips and cock your head at him. His eyes shine with that fierce emotion you saw in them earlier.

“Hmm,” you say aloud, grabbing everyone’s attention, “I decided that I like winning a lot more than losing.”

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 1

this is the first part of a story I’m working on; it will be full of my fav whump trope, which is the whumpee being safe but not realising and doing their best to serve their new Master. There will also be some no-nonsense whump in later chapters for good measure!!

CW: pet whumpee, dehumanisation, references to past abuse, vomiting from fear, swearing

-

Tomas’s phone rang and he jumped. He’d been waiting for the call all week. "Hello?" he answered, trying to sound calm.

"Hey, man." The deep voice was unmistakably his friend, Kasia. "You still up for rehoming a pet? We just got one in this morning."

Tomas squeezed his free hand in excitement. Ever since he’d started working from home, he’d been wishing he had something to keep him company. This was perfect. "Yes, absolutely. How did you get it?"

"Well, we buy them from their owners, y’know. So it’s all legal. And you won’t have any angry owner coming after you wondering why you stole their pet," Kasia laughed, and Tomas guessed that’s exactly what used to happen. "This one looks rough, though. I’m glad we got ‘em before they just got dumped in the street. I’ll text you the payment details now. Listen, I hope you don’t mind, but we’re mad busy today. Big pet auction on. Is it okay if I just drop it outside your house? I can’t stop for chat."

"No, no, that’s fine. I’ve got everything ready," said Tomas, glancing at the cage, collar and lead he’d bought.

"Okay, see you soon!" Kasia hung up just as Tomas realised he didn’t even know what kind of animal he was getting. He knew Kasia’s group would just give him what they had, so he’d bought a fairly large cage just to be sure. In a way, not knowing made him even more excited. And his heart warmed at the idea of giving a pet that would otherwise be chucked out a good home. He sent Kasia the money and twiddled his thumbs.

A car horn beeping outside his house, swiftly followed by wheels speeding away told him that Kasia had been and gone, and his new pet was outside. He hurried down, opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks.

On his doorstep was a cage, and inside that cage there was… a human being. He was kneeling, his hands tied to his ankles behind his back, and his face almost entirely hidden by a blindfold and gag. The cage was so tiny that the man’s back was flat against its roof, his whole body pressed down, with his forehead against the floor. Just looking at him made Tomas feel claustrophobic, not to mention sick to the core.

"What the fuck?" he swore without thinking, and the man in the cage cringed. He could definitely hear, then. "Uh, oh god, I’m sorry, I- oh god what am I doing? It’s freezing out here. Let’s just-"

He prepared himself to struggle getting the cage inside, but it was worryingly light. He held it to his chest with both hands, kicking his door shut with far more force than he intended, causing the man to flinch as it slammed. Oh god. He had to call Kasia and find out what the hell he was playing at-

Oh. Oh. Tomas stood still as the penny dropped. Kasia rehomed Pets with a capital P. Oh. Tomas took a few deep breaths. There was a man in a cage in his arms. Let’s focus on that, he thought.

He set the cage down and gingerly unlatched the top of it. Great. He’d have to lift him out.

"Right,’’ Tomas started. The man froze, and Tomas noticed he was holding his breath. "I’m just going to lift you out and get these restraints off you. Okay?"

No response. Obviously. "Okay," said Tomas, mostly to himself. He didn’t want to have to do this, but…

Placing one hand under the Pet’s neck, and the other around his bound wrists, Tomas lifted him out as quickly as he could and set him down on the rug nearby. He weighed so little, and he hadn’t struggled, even a little bit. Tomas was almost glad when he heard his breathing hitch, and saw his hands start to tremble. At least there was… someone in there. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t turned him into a husk, although it seemed like they had gotten close.

. . .

Pet listened closely as he heard his new Master walk away, and rummage for something. So soon, he thought, his heart sinking. What would it be? A knife, a whip, a torch? He wished he could move, show his Master that he was capable of being good, that he didn’t need punishing. The hand around his neck as he was being moved had already reminded him of his place.

Stupid pet! He had been thrown out. His old master had gotten tired of him. And what was he doing, thinking he knew better than his Master? Of course he needed punishing, and if it helped him learn to be good for his Master, then he wanted it. He would take anything if it meant he could be a good Pet.

"Let’s get you out of those," his Master said, his voice travelling downwards as he sat to reach Pet’s restraints. Suddenly something cold, and metallic, and sharp, pressed into his cheek, and he whimpered loudly before he could stop himself. It wasn’t cutting into him yet, just running over his skin as a warning of what Master could do if he wanted. At the sound of his crying Master stopped, but the tool stayed tight against his face, wedged under the blindfold. Not one minute since Master had got him and he was already being disrespectful. His hands shook harder, bracing himself to be hit. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-

"No, no, they’re just scissors," Master said. He felt his stomach turn over. Just scissors. There must be so much worse awaiting him. Master resumed and Pet felt the fabric rip until it came away completely, and he was allowed to see. Pets weren’t to look directly at their Master, he knew this. He could follow this rule. He hadn’t been hit yet, and he dared to hope that his Master was in a forgiving mood.

Soon, Master had cut away all of his restraints. "Sit up, please. That looks uncomfortable. And I want to see your face."

Pet lifted his chest up immediately, ignoring the way his muscles screamed at the sudden movement. Still kneeling, he obediently faced the floor as his Master inspected his new property.

"Hey." An open hand appeared in his line of sight, and Pet screwed his eyes shut to avoid the worst of the slap. Instead, however, fingers gently landed on his cheek, turning his head upwards. Pet’s eyes opened to find Master staring straight at him. "It’s okay, I just- you were zoning out." Pet cringed- he was so nervous his behaviour was slipping. No slap, it seemed. It had been another warning. Or maybe Master just liked seeing him flinch. At least with his old master, Pet could often predict his moods and how Pet would be punished. He felt so vulnerable, with this new Master whose wants and rules he didn’t know yet.

He knew he couldn’t have wants, but he wished he was allowed to speak, to apologise and beg Master to punish him, to get it over with. All he could do was keep his eyes on the ground and try to stop himself from shaking quite so badly. He was on a rug; behind Master he had seen an open kitchen that lead on to a living area. It was spacious and warm. Master was tall and elegant, with wavy blonde hair, and well-built. He had already proven that Pet was nothing for him to lift up. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how easily his Master could hurt him, the more he felt he might faint. The slightest movement hurt, his whole body ached from being in the cage, he couldn’t even curl in on himself if Master decided to punish him. He felt weak with fear.

"Can you speak?" Master asked him. Did he mean physically? Or was he testing how well trained he was? It had to be the second one. He hoped. Either way he knew not to keep his Master waiting. Pet shook his head nervously- no, I am not allowed to speak.

Risking a glance at his Master’s face, he saw he was frowning. He had given the wrong answer. His legs were in agony- he hadn’t stopped kneeling since he’d been tied up and caged, and his mind was whirling, and- "Are you physically able to speak?"

At this, Pet was sure he was going to throw up. When he spoke around his old master, when he cried out in pain or broke down and begged, he was always beaten soundly for it, but that’s where it ended. Here, Pet realised with a sickening jolt, his new Master wasn’t going to leave any room for mistakes. It wasn’t good enough that he didn’t speak- Master wanted to make sure he couldn’t. Maybe he’d take the scissors to Pet’s tongue, or crush his voice box, or sew his mouth shut-

His stomach heaving brought him back to reality and he pitched forward, grabbing a hand to his mouth and almost smacking into Master’s chest. Oh god, now he’d really done it. Pet tried to force himself back up but every movement pushed him closer to vomiting. He was aware that Master had gone and grabbed something from a cupboard, and was now holding it under his face.

"-in there, okay? Be sick in there, if you need to," Master was telling him. Pet obeyed and soon his throat was red-raw and his stomach felt emptier than ever. "There, get it out, that’s it."

Master pushed the bucket to one side, and Pet had never felt so miserable in his life. He had just thrown up in front of his new Master, he could feel tears welling up, and he still hadn’t answered Master’s question! He opened his mouth to beg, but caught himself and clamped his lips shut.

"You want to say something? Go on," Master said. Pet took a shallow breath.

"I-I can speak, Master. B-but, I," he felt the floodgates open as fear took hold of his better judgement, "-but please, please Master, I swear, I can keep quiet, I’ll be good I promise, pl-please don’t, please, I’ll be good for you, I won’t speak, I-" he cut off, sobbing too hard to get another word out. His face burned with shame as he wept; he was so stupid, babbling like an idiot to convince Master that he wouldn’t speak. He pressed his forehead to the floor as his Master decided what to do with him.

. . .

Tomas stared down at the Pet in horror. He had no idea they could be so badly broken. His back was criss-crossed with scars that could only have come from a whip, and slicing through them were long, deliberate cuts. Some were healed, some were still new, covered in dried blood. His arms and legs were splattered with bruises.

It had been even worse when he’d asked the Pet to sit up to get a good look at him. He hadn’t realised when he was pulling him out, but his neck was covered in purple handprints. And he had gone and put his hand right over them like an idiot. Another handprint spread across his cheek, although fainter. Down his chest were all manner of injuries: scars, cuts, bruises, even a few hideous burns. The cuts were the worst. They were so- so perfect. He had taken them all without resistance.

Forcing himself back to the present, Tomas gingerly reached a hand to the Pet’s shoulder. God, he hadn’t even asked if he had a name. Did Pets have names? He faintly remembered that they started off with numbers- should he give him a name?

The Pet didn’t move as Tomas touched him, but he did whimper softly. "Hey, sit back up for me," he coaxed, keeping his voice gentle. He did as he was told, but kept his eyes on the ground. "You can look at me, it’s okay. You’re allowed."

Tomas found a bottle of water and titled it into his Pet’s mouth to wash the bile from his throat, afraid that the man might drop it the way his hands were shaking. He was smaller than Tomas, and far skinnier. He looked so vulnerable, with his chest exposed and his injuries on display like that. Who the fuck would buy a human being and torture them this bad?

"I’m sorry for scaring you. You can speak to me. It’s good that you can speak."

Relief flushed his Pet’s face. "Thank you Master, thank you. I am so grateful."

"I’m Tomas. You may use my name, if you prefer."

"Yes, Master Tomas."

Ah. That would have to do for now, he decided. "Do you have a name?"

Tomas watched him think about this. "N-no, Master. If you wish, I would be honoured to be given one."

"Yes, yes of course. Let me… I mean, do you… have any preference?"

He knew what the answer to that would be before he even asked it. "No Master. Whatever pleases you best."

Tomas looked at his dark hair, and brown twitchy eyes. "You would suit… Rowe, I think."

"Thank you, Master."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you. I am so grateful for this kindness."

"It’s hardly a kindness…"

Rowe deflated. "No, Master. I’m sorry- I was presumptuous."

Tomas paused, deciding his next move. He had never come into close contact with a Pet before; they were favoured by the elite, and so damn expensive that no one else could have one even if they wanted. He must have done something pretty serious for his owner to sell him on cheap enough for Kasia’s lot to snap him up. He shoved that thought to the back of his head- it was only scare the poor thing if he asked. Tomas realised that the longer he went without speaking, the more scared Rowe looked.

"Let’s eat."

Tomas found some leftover soup and, after a lot of coaxing, convinced Rowe to sit at the table with him to eat. He had pleaded to eat on the floor, and when that hadn’t worked he had wanted to wait until Tomas had finished. Tomas was too tired to wait that long, and told him so. Framing it as a way to keep his Master happy worked well, and the two ate in silence. When they had both finished, it was nearing midnight.

"I don’t know about you, Rowe," Tomas said, trying to make his tone more friendly. "But I’m exhausted. I think it’s time we both went to sleep."

"Yes, Master," Rowe said, looking past Tomas at something in the kitchen. Turning around, Tomas’s heart sank. The god damn cage he’d bought for the animal he’d been expecting was in plain view on the floor, and had been the entire time. The collar and lead were placed menacingly on top. Oh fucking hell. Rowe had started walking towards it, and in a panic Tomas grabbed his wrist, all efforts to be calm and collected immediately dissolving.

"No, no, no, no. Not for you. Don’t- ugh-" he sighed heavily. Rowe had gone deathly still and was searching Tomas’s face desperately, trying to understand what he’d done wrong. "Don’t go in the cage. No."

"I’m sorry Master," Rowe said under his breath. "Of course I am grateful to sleep on the floor."

"You’re not- I have a spare room. You’ll sleep in there. On the bed."

Rowe looked like he was going to cry at this. "I do not deserve such kindness, Master, please."

"I’m the judge of that. And I want you to have a room to sleep in."

"Y-yes, Master, I’m sorry, I didn’t m- I didn’t mean to question your judgement." Rowe stammered out. Tomas noticed he was still holding his wrist firmly and released it. He was so tired; all he wanted to do was put Rowe in a room and let him sleep, for both their sakes.

"It’s okay, Rowe. I forgive you," Tomas said, and Rowe seemed to calm down slightly. "Follow me, please, and I’ll show you to your room."

Next

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Febuwhump 6: Insomnia

Alternate Prompt: Truth Serum

This one was co-written with the incredibly amazing @reesiereads!

Summary: While cleaning out the attic of an old mansion, Louie finds a golden amulet. It’s just his luck that it turns out to be cursed.

Trigger Warnings: violence, burning, self hatred, and brief suicidal ideation

1925 words

Looking around the dirty mansion, Louie found himself disappointed. There was nothing of worth around anywhere, not even the creepy, old attic. 

“The Manor is better then this place,” he grumbled as the family picked through the boxes in the attic, “and that’s full of deadly artifacts!” 

“What did you expect?” Huey asked him, glancing up from an old book he was flipping through, “no one’s lived here in centuries, and they probably took all of the valuable stuff with them when they fled the local wildfires.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, “but not even a penny?” 

Then he saw it: a golden chain hanging loosely out of one of the many boxes around them. He could tell it was real too, with the way it shined as light filtered in through the small window at the front of the attic. 

Huey trailed his eyesight, before frowning, “Louie I don’t think you should—” 

“It’s gold, Huey! I’m not about to just pass that up.” 

Walking over to the box, he carefully pulled on the chain. It revealed an amulet, made of real gold with a giant ruby at the bottom. “Oh my god,” Louie said, “do you know how much this is worth? Why would somebody leave this behind?” 

Huey came to stand next to him, looking annoyed as he watched Louie slip the necklace over his head. “Probably for a good reason. Seriously, you shouldn’t mess with it.” 

But it was too late; as soon as Louie placed it over his head the ruby began to glow a bright, blood red. He tried to tug it off, but the golden chain burned his hands, sticking to his body like glue. He met Huey’s eye, and while the duckling looked concerned, he also seemed smug, like he was proud to have been right. 

Not being able to stop himself, Louie felt his mouth open and force out words he had never wanted to say out loud. 

“I don’t think you care about me.”

Louie clamped his beak shut. 

Why had he said that? Why had he said that? 

He almost missed Huey’s quiet “...what?”, but it was there all the same. 

“I don’t — I didn’t...” why had he said that? “I don’t think I’m worth anything.” 

Realizing it must have been the necklace (oh god, it was cursed, wasn’t it), he clutched at it desperately, ignoring the searing pain. He had to get it off. He had to shut up. 

“What’s going on?” Dewey asked, having noticed the commotion. The rest of the family followed him over.

Panic gripped him, tight and suffocating. Don’t say anything else, he begged himself. Just stay quiet. 

To his horror, he found himself looking directly at Della. “I don’t think you love me.”

He watched in horror as her face fell, eyes squeezing shut as if she were forcing herself not to cry. Great, now he had hurt his brother and his mom. What was next? Would the necklace force him to hurt each family member one by one? Louie didn’t know, and he was terrified to find out. 

“I-I think it’s the necklace,” Huey stuttered, hands clutching the book in his hands tightly, “it must be cursed somehow.” 

“Then get it off!” Dewey yelped, looking at Della with large eyes of concern. 

Before he could stop himself, Louie looked directly at his second oldest brother. “I think you love Mom more than me.”

He felt sick. “Stop,” he whispered, as if he could make the curse go away by will alone. As if his own vocal cords would listen to him. “Stop, god please stop—” he cried out as the burn only seemed to increase.

“Let go of the blasted thing, lad!” Scrooge all but demanded. 

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, whimpering as it only seemed to bury itself deeper against his feathers. 

“I think you see me as a nuisance,” Louie blurted out.

He could feel tears gathering in his eyes, hands clenched around his hood. He didn’t pull it up though, it wouldn’t change anything. Nothing could make him feel better until he got the stupid necklace off. 

His hands hurt, feathers all burnt away to reveal a chain pattern against his skin. The pain at least gave him something to focus on, an escape from his own mouth and thoughts. 

He knew he was hurting his family, that his words were cutting new wounds. That was why he had never said anything, all too aware at how awful his thoughts could hurt. 

Huey stood off to the side, the book he had been clutching earlier now on the floor. He must have dropped it at some point. 

Della stood to his right, a silent Dewey clutching her shirt. She was crying now, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Scrooge stared at the amulet, his brow furrowed. Louie wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but he doubted it was good. 

His Uncle Donald just looked heartbroken. 

“I think all I do is hurt people” he mumbled, tongue and beak moving of their own accord.

The truth was supposed to set you free. That's what all the wise old people said, at least. Them and the children’s cartoons that had to teach the kids good life lessons.

But as Louie kept going, words forming in his throat against his will, he’d never felt a greater weight over him. 

His family looked so upset. Of course they did. Him and his stupid thoughts, things they were never supposed to hear, could only serve to cause other people pain.

And the words wouldn’t stop coming. 

The amulet still wouldn’t budge, and he was beginning to be scared that it never would.

“I — uh—” Louie could feel another confession trying to force its way up his throat, and while he had no idea what it was, he would do anything to stop it from coming out. He grit his teeth, feeling his eyes start to sting from unshed tears. 

It wasn’t fair, why was it always him? No one else (besides his Uncle Donald) were constantly getting hurt or screwed over by evil magical artifacts. No one else had ever been forced to reveal their darkest secrets and insecurities in front of their whole family. No one else had to deal with hurting their whole family against their will. 

He could feel a sob rising in the back of his throat, threatening to spill out from his mouth just like his awful secrets. Louie hated that he cried so much, that he was so sensitive. The rest of his family was strong and capable, but all Louie ever managed to do was mess things up.

It went on for what must have been forever. Secret after secret forcing its way out, each one worse than the last.

Nobody was ever supposed to know any of this, but now there was no way to stop it. The amulet wouldn’t let him stop until every fear and insecurity had been spoken. 

Huey had been right. Huey was almost always right. And Louie, true to his stupid, selfish nature, hadn’t listened.

Huey was so… ugh. He was so much smarter than Louie was. 

Another confession spilled out, followed by a sob that he’d done everything to repress.

His family looked torn between standing there and actually trying to do something. He wouldn’t blame them for just standing there, though. After all he’d said, what he was still saying, he’d hurt them too deeply.

He didn’t deserve their help. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, hiccuping as another sob wracked his body. I can’t s-stop I—”

I can’t stop hurting you.

His hands were still sensitive from the burns, and they stung painfully as he wiped tears away. The pain gave him a focus though, an escape from his thoughts and the awful situation. 

He could hear someone crying, but it was hard to tell who with his vision swimming. It was getting hard to breathe between his sobs, his chest burning with the need for more air.

It hurt, everything hurt.

It hurt so much that he barely even registered it when it stopped.

A final confession — “Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead.” — and that was it. The glow of the ruby dimmed, the chain suddenly feeling much looser around his neck.

Louie, hands shaking, all but ripped the amulet off, sinking to the floor in defeat. It was off. But his family knew everything.

He didn’t look up. He couldn’t bear to see their hurt or disappointed looks, so he just kept his eyes squeezed shut as he sobbed.

For a long time, it was the only thing he could hear. His cries — and they sounded pathetic, just like him — filled the room; he’d long since given up on trying to muffle them.

Then there were arms wrapped around his torso.

He flinched, opening his eyes slightly to look behind him. His vision was still blurred by tears, but he could make out the shape of Huey hugging him from behind. The older duckling was shaking slightly, but his grip was tight, as if he could hug all the awful thoughts out of Louie’s head.

“I—” Huey floundered for the words, seemingly unable to find the right thing to say. Louie wasn’t sure what he could say.

Gripping onto his brother’s arms tightly, Louie ignored the sharp sting of his burns. He felt like an imposter, getting a hug and having someone so worried about him. It felt great, but it was also wrong.

He didn’t deserve this.

Della was the first to find her voice. She kneeled in front of Louie, even as Huey continued to cling onto him. “I am so, so sorry,” she said, cupping his face gently.

Louie sniffled, but didn’t pull away.

“I had no idea you felt like that — I don’t think any of us did — and I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

“No, mom—” he said, looking at her through his tear-blurred vision, gasping for breath as he tried to calm himself down. 

She hushed him, wiping his tears. “It’s okay,” she promised, “You don’t have to say anything.”

He nodded as best he could while she continued to hold him like that. 

“I do care about you,” Huey finally said, arms still wrapped around him tightly. “I care about you so much, don’t you ever think that — that I don’t.”

Louie cried harder at that, leaning into his brother’s embrace, Della taking a step back so they could have a moment.

“Are you su—sure?” he choked out. Ordinarily he never would have let himself look so absolutely stupid and vulnerable and insecure, but the amulet had done most of the work for him.

“Yeah,” Huey said, “Never surer of anything. I love you so much. You’re my brother, Lou, how could I not?”

Slowly, the rest of the family packed in for a group hug. Even Uncle Scrooge, who really wasn’t that big on physical affection like this. But he was a part of it anyway, and Louie tried to take some comfort in that.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Uncle Donald said quietly. “I love you, Louie. We all do. And we are going to be okay.”

Weakly, Louie nodded. As little as he believed it, maybe they would be. Maybe he could apologize for all the awful secrets he’d been forced to spill. Maybe they’d forgive him.

But for now, all he could do was sit in his family’s embrace and cry.

[lavishedinjimin]

a little bit of sugar, daddy [8]

↳ Pairing: taehyung x reader 

↳ Genre: smut

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 5.0k

↳ Warnings: detailed smut, use of vibrators and nipple clamps, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), edging, dom-sub themes, big dick!tae, handcuffs, multiple orgasms. 

↳ Synopsis:  Taehyung - a sugardaddy and a businessman, a man who derives his life from sex, pleasure, and money. Y/n - a girl working at a small cafe, whose sex life is as dry as the weekly delivered coffee beans. Will Y/n adjust to the new lifestyle she agreed to, and keep up with all of the dirty antics with Taehyung?

Previous and subsequent chapters are located in my masterlist. Please check it out! 

“Go upstairs and wait for me in bed.” Taehyung’s deep bass voice resonated in the car once he stops the engine. You were utterly and dreadfully terrified with the tone of his voice.

You felt small. Like a kitten lost in the middle of the night. (You never intended to) make him angry, but you were too scared to say anything to apologize.

Taehyung unlocks the car and that was your cue to get out. You were about to open the door before he speaks, “Undressed, may I add.”

You turn to him with big eyes, wondering if you heard correctly. “You want me naked?”

Taehyung snarls at you with a single eyebrow up, his mouth frowning. “Did I stutter, Y/N?”

You look away from his burning gaze, your heart thumping in your chest. “No.”

He doesn’t reply but instead looks at you expectantly. The two of you stared at each other for five seconds before you quickly got what he was looking for.

“No, s-sir.”

He nods once, “That’s more like it.”        

~

Your heart was beating outside of your chest as you stripped down into nothing. You chuck away your expensive fucking shoes, removing your blouse and shorts and chucking them on the floor.

“Does he mean my underwear too?” you asked yourself, biting your lip. You didn’t understand why you were so nervous, no one was even here to watch you.

You sigh when you unclasped the uncomfortable bra from your chest, throwing it on the pile of clothes along with your panties. You proceed to crawl up to your bed, waiting for him to enter. You haven’t had sex with him for weeks, and you didn’t know what’s to come.

It’s already been ten minutes and he still hasn’t arrived. The room was growing cold from the air conditioner, small bumps arising your skin. You were almost convinced that he wasn’t going to arrive, and he was just playing some cruel games with you.

You crossed your arms, hugging your naked skin. You were so exposed, feeling so degraded.

Huffing in dismay, you stood up from the cool bed and made your way to the short little hallway leading to the door. He was not going to make you wait any further. But you still thought that you looked absolutely ridiculous walking around the room naked. Nipples erect and all that.

You were about to reach for the doorknob – however, just like in cliché stories – the door immediately swings open. You gasp in shock from the sudden intrusion. And there stood Taehyung, his brows furrowed in utter bewilderment. His eyes roam up and down your body, being slightly satisfied that you followed his instructions and undressed. He smirks when he sees your perked nipples, probably from how cold the room was.

“What were you doing?” he asks, crossing his arms together. Your eyes fly to the shopping bag in his right arm, all of the toys possibly in it.

“I was,” should you lie? You clear your throat, looking away from his gaze, “I was about to look for you.”  

“Didn’t I say to wait for me in the bed, Y/n?” he steps forward, making you slowly walk the opposite way. He was towering over you and you felt helpless. You gulp, “I-I know, but I was just—”

“Excuses, excuses,” he muses, backing you up against a nearby wall. “You just need to have countless amounts of excuses packed in you, huh?” He presses his body tightly against yours, whining from the pressure of the rough material of his jeans against your unmasked skin. He lifts his hand up and holds your jaw tightly, forcing you to look directly at his irises. His eyes were unwavering as opposed to yours.

“Why couldn’t you follow such simple orders, baby girl? Or did you not hear me?” His thumb slowly grazes against your bottom lip, his eyes following the action. He moves his hand down until it wraps around your neck. He firmly applies pressure, but not enough to completely cut off your breathing. Just the way he knew you liked it.

“You took…You took long,” you look down in embarrassment, staring at the bag he was securely holding onto.

You heard him scoff, “Do you want me to use these toys on you without washing them, Y/n? Come on now,” within a quick moment he flings you to the bed, a quiet ‘oomph’ escaping your mouth. He was right about that though, and it made you feel super dumb. He wasn’t just going to remove those sex toys outside their boxes and put them on your body.

The air of the room suddenly turns warmer when you watch him remove his shirt, exposing his body to you. Your mouth instantly waters, for it has been so long since you’ve seen him undressed. He has that signature sly smirk glued to his face the whole time as he watches your reactions. He fiddles with his buttons and finally pulls his pants down, kicking them to the side.

Your eyes try to look elsewhere expect the bulging hard dick that’s been confined to his boxers.

“Come, stand up,” he says and you comply immediately, making his chuckle darkly. “And now you obey me,” he sits at the edge of the bed right in front of you, “but it’s too late now, angel. I’m gonna punish you for the bad little girl you have been.”

His big hands grip your waist, kneading it firmly. It caused you to release a little moan, biting your lip right after.

“But first, why don’t we do something about these.” He flicks your hardened nipples a couple of times and rubbing them with his thumbs, applying circling motions. You whimpered, pulling on his wrist as you try to pry them away.

“Sensitive?” he asks with a grin.

“Mhmm,” you replied, nodding your head.

“Oh, baby,” he coos as he caresses your left cheek, a sinister smile forming his face, “That’s disappointing to hear because I wanna use these on you,” he reaches behind you to grab the shopping bag and pulls out the nipple clamps attached to a sparkly silver chain. You felt your heart pound loudly in your chest, feeling nervous but excited at the same time. It looks scarier when it was actually mere inches away from your nipples compared when they were displayed on the mannequins.

You watch closely as he nears the clamps to his mouth, wetting them with his tongue, sucking on the toys seductively as he maintained eye contact with you. You bite your lip as you released a quiet mewl, tugging on his forearm.

Taehyung scoffs, “You desperate for it, baby?”

He doesn’t let you answer and without any warning, he hastily pulls you closer and places one clamp on your hard nipple. “Ha-aah,” your eyes expand from the sudden stinging feeling, gripping his shoulders tightly. “O-oh, T-Taehyung…”

Taehyung quirks his brows, clamping the second one on your other bud, “Huh? What did you say?”

He increases the tightness of the clamps by twisting the little screws on the side, and he isn’t afraid to do so. He watches you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, your body quivering from the sensitivity.

“S-sir, I mean sir, s-shit, so tight,” You couldn’t form any concrete thought as the feeling of your nipples both being pinched so tightly clouded your mind. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter and getting hornier as each second passes by.

“Yeah? Take your fucking punishment like a good girl, angel.” He sneers. Taehyung then pulls on the silver chain, your nipples being tugged. You let out a loud gasp – you could’ve sworn you felt your slick drip down your thighs.

You dig your nails into his skin, causing him to hiss. Taehyung looks up at you, eyes in a sultry little squint. He removes your hands from his body and holds both of your wrists in one hand as he reaches the bag again.

“Close your eyes and turn around,” he lets go of your wrists and you obey him. Darkness overflowed your mind as you faced away, gulping the large ball in your throat. You never really know what’s to come when you’re with him. You didn’t have any clue what he’s got in store for you.

“What a—”

“Don’t talk.” He pronounces strictly, his voice deeper than ever before. You felt your pussy clench around nothing from his domineering tone.

*Click*

Your eyes shoot open when you realized what it was.

It all happened so fast. He had grabbed your wrists and locked them together in handcuffs. You felt that there was a soft and fluffy material around the cold metal, and you were grateful for it.

He grips your waist and turns you around, facing your flushed state. He smirks evilly, liking your reaction. “So I-I won’t be able to touch you?” You quietly asked with a blush. Your timid attitude caused his dick to twitch against the painful confinement of his pants.

He taps his lap, and you straddle him carefully. Taehyung notices how drenched your pussy has become, and it takes all of his self-control to prevent himself to pound into you then and there.

“No, this is your punishment, remember? Sir will teach you a lesson. You’ll let me do anything to this precious, cute body of yours, hmm? Let me ruin it?” He runs his big, right hand up and down your side, causing shivers to run down your spine.

“Yes, sir.” You answer. You were here to please him, after all, at any cost.

He grins, “That’s my good girl.”

He leans forward to get another item for the 3rd time, and this time he wasn’t afraid to show it to you. He takes the pink Hitachi vibrator, and you immediately whine. He looked so fucking intimidating as he carefully assembled the toy, switching it on. You took a deep breath when he sets in on the first level.

The buzzing sound filled the silence of the room. It wasn’t too loud, just the right amount to set your nerves on fire. Taehyung spreads his thighs apart, making your legs do the same. Your drenched cunt visible to his lust-filled eyes.

He nears the head of the toy near your pussy, grazing it on your folds ever so slightly. “Mmhp,” your hands pull on the cuffs, closing your eyes shut.

“Look at me baby, don’t close those pretty eyes.”

You follow his words and reopened your eyes, directing them on his own. “Don’t hold those moans back, okay? I want the neighbors to hear how needy you are for me.”

Within a second, he finally presses the vibrating toy on your folds, and your whole body jerked upward from the new feeling. He rubs the head up and down your pussy, soaking the buzzing toy.

Taehyung looks at you in amusement, wondering how you look so gorgeous. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your beautiful body, his unoccupied hand massaging your hips. “Feels good?” he rasps and you choke out a ‘yes’. “Yeah, feels good doesn’t it?”

From one, he ups the level to a solid seven without any notice.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh! S-sir!” You try to pry away from the vibrator, your body jerking away from the sudden change. “Nggff, so f-fast,” you close your eyes tightly, biting your bottom lip roughly. You wanted to hold onto something, to scratch something, but the cuffs were preventing you. You felt like your whole body was one fire, your mind clouding in lust. You were so fucking frustrated that you couldn’t hold onto something as you wanted to.

Taehyung suddenly slaps your ass hard, the harsh sound resonating throughout the room, pressing the toy even firmer on your pussy. “Don’t fucking close your eyes. Didn’t I tell you to look at me?”

He rubs the head roughly on your clit. New sensations filled your body, grinding onto the toy desperately. You were ecstatic. It doesn’t help that you can clearly see his huge dick under his boxers, begging to come out. You want it inside of you. You were craving to be filled up with his huge dick instead of this vibrator.

You felt a knot forming in your stomach, signaling that you were already close. “Such a bad girl you are, one instruction isn’t enough, huh?” he growls, setting the speed higher.

“A-aah, sir! I’m g-gonna—”

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you cum so easily, slut,” he taunts. The head was soaking with your juices, some of it dripping down to the floor. You were so needy for him, wanting to cum so badly. Right before you were about to release, he removes the wand away from your clenching pussy.

“N-no, no,” you whimpered. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, tugging at the cuffs behind you. Taehyung chuckles darkly, lifting the toy up to his face. He keeps his gaze on you as he licks a bold stripe on the head, tasting your slick. He groans in the process, his cock growing rock-hard.

“Taste too fucking sweet,” he growls, setting the level up to nine and has no problem in pressing it back against your core. You were still trying to catch your breath from the last denial, the abrupt feeling of the vibrations pressing on your core pulled you back to the edge.

“S-sir… p-please, s-so fast—mmhhng—wanna c-cum.” You mewl, your poor body shivering in intense pleasure. 

You were a sweaty mess, your hair stuck to your neck, your forehead forming little beads of sweat. Taehyung was making you work. 

This time, he focuses more on your clit. He presses against it firmly, wiggling it here and there to bring you closer.

“Wanna cum, angel?” he asks and you immediately nod vigorously.

“Yes, yes, yes, s-sir—o-oh fuuuuckkk—yes!”

Much to your dismay, he moves the toy away from you a second time and you release a loud cry. He pulls on the chain of your nipple clamps, sparks of pleasure washing over you.

“S-sir! Please, please, just let me cum.” You whimpered, the corners of your eyes drooping down, desperation taking over you. Even though there was a soft fabric around the handcuffs, you still thought that your wrist will turn red from all of the pullings you’ve done. 

“Hmm,” he pretends to think, “I don’t think so.”

You have never seen Taehyung like this. He was cruel, edging you again and again, denying your orgasms. But as bad as it sounds, you liked it. You like how he can control your body, how he can be so strict and domineering. He has such a strong aura that is so intimidating, yet it turns you on. 

He wraps his arms around you unexpectedly and throws you on the bed. “Head down, ass up, baby doll.” He orders. You did as you were told, your right cheek pressing against the mattress and waited patiently, though your patience were already wearing thin. You felt the bed dip down behind you, signaling his presence.

His hands grope your ass roughly, spanking it a couple of times. “This pretty ass, fuck, wanna ruin it.”

Your whimpers were muffled when you heard the toy was switched on again, and this time, Taehyung places it on the highest speed. Ten.

“Wanna cum, baby girl? Cum hard for me?”

“Mhmm, yes please, p-please sir, I’ll be a good girl for you.”

Taehyung smirks, his cock twitching by your words, “Good.”

He pushes the vibrator past your folds, firmly running it up and down your slick. He watches how your pussy would clench around nothing every time he aligns it up on your entrance. He chuckles, loving your body’s reactions.

He keeps it aligned on your hole, causing it to drip more slick out of your system and onto the toy. It was so messy, just how Taehyung liked it. You squirmed violently when he replaces the toy with two of his slender fingers and pushes it inside without warning.

“Tae—sir! Oh my god!” your body shake viciously when he pumps deep and hard with one hand, and the other aligning the toy back on your throbbing clit. The double action making your body tremble and shake.

“You like that?” he taunts, “Finally have something inside of that desperate little pussy, huh?”

“Mmmm shit, shit, shit, sir – more,” you moaned, shutting your eyes, indulging yourself in the feeling. Taehyung bites his lip as he adds a third finger, stretching your walls out deliciously.

“Filthy little fuck slut,” he groans, “You want my cock don’t you, hmm?” You moan from his words, whining in need, “You want this big cock inside that little, tight pussy. Stretch you out real good, huh? Feel my dick deep inside your stomach, make you cum hard. Is that what you want?”

“Yes! Y-yes, I want that, s-sir,” his filthy words send you closer to your high, and you prayed to a god that he won’t deny your orgasm again.

“I’m so close, please let m-me cum!” you begged, followed by a long moan when he replaces the toy with his own mouth, sucking on your clit. His tongue worked wonders on your bud, swirling it around and flicking it continuously. His fingers were still pounding into you, and this time he doesn’t stop.

“Aaahh, oh my – mmnggff, s-sir,”

“Let it out, my angel,” he mutters.

A heavy wave of pleasure came through your body, like a waterfall bursting over a cliff. You finally exploded your cum around his fingers. Your mind turns blank and your body quivers intensely. “Thaaaat’s it, that’s my good, pretty girl. Fuck,” Taehyung lets you ride out your high and removes his fingers.

He sucks on his digit one by one, savoring your cum as the other hand palms his cock. He was getting impatient himself, and all of the teasings was over. He removes the cuffs and throws it on the floor, making you sigh in relief as you finally got your hands back to yourself.

Taehyung flips you over to your back. He leans down and kisses your lips passionately, and you respond back with all of the strength left in you. He holds your face delicately, completely opposite with his previous actions. 

“One more time, baby,” he says against the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “I want you to cum one more time, on my cock this time.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, biting your lip. Taehyung smiles, placing a quick peck on your lips before he tugs his underwear. His huge cock springs out, standing up proudly with precum oozing from the tip. Taehyung smirks when he sees your reaction, “Been a while since you’ve seen this cock, huh?” he pumps his length, his large hand almost looking small wrapped around his dick. 

He aligns himself on your entrance, hiking your right leg up. He pushes himself in, inch by inch, filling you up so good.

“Yeah, like that,” he grunts, “your cunt feels so tight, baby. Nice and snug around my big cock.”

He doesn’t wait any further and forces the rest of his length inside you. He starts to pound into you animalistically, shoving his whole length in and out. You immediately run breathless, eyes rolling at the back of your head. “Fuck, you love my cock, hm? Say how much you love my big cock.”

“I l-love your big dick, stretching me out so well. I love it so much, sir, love h-how – a-aaah – how full it makes m-me feel,” Taehyung growls in satisfaction, his praise kink being fed nicely.

You don’t know where to look, the sight above you was just so hot. His damp, shaggy hair stuck in front of his eyes, his muscles flexing as he fucks you into another dimension, his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction, watching how your boobs would bounce at each thrust. You’ve never felt so full and so satisfied in your life.

He tugs on your chains again, causing you to whimper deliciously, clawing at his back. “Those fucking whimpers of yours will be the death of me, baby girl.” He grunts, fucking you harder and deeper, his balls slapping against your pussy. 

Taehyung feels your cunt getting tighter, signaling that you were about to cum for the second time. “Shit, angel. Cum around my dick, c’mon, cream on this fucking cock.”

He thrusts into you at a deeper and faster pace, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were seeing stars, your body going numb. “S-so tight, feel so fucking amazing,” he grunts. A few more powerful thrusts and you finally released your cum, shaking violently, your pussy spasming around him. He tugged at your chain once more as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm to reach his own climax, his groans and moans growing louder.

“Fuck, my dick’s made for you baby girl,” he whispers, his thrusts getting sloppier. A few seconds later, his cock twitches once and he instantly pulls out, spurting his cum on your stomach. He shoots hard enough that some ended on your chest, the action so lewd. Taehyung throws his head back as he vigorously jerked his cock, not wasting any cum. He looks at your cum-painted body, chewing on his bottom lip in the process. He smirks down at you, loving how your doll-like eyes were looking at him so cutely as if you weren’t just given the best fuck of your life.

He leans down again and connects his lips to yours, this time very slowly and passionately. Taehyung’s eyebrows were creased as he devoured your lips, your sweet taste. He wanted to stay like this forever. The atmosphere quickly changes and he was now back to his sweet and loving persona, his hands running down your sides to comfort you. “You did so great, angel,” he says against your mouth, “Did you enjoy it?”

Your cheeks go red, “I did.”

He moves to remove your nipple clamps, a little moan leaving your lips when the cold air hits your buds. “Did the clamps feel good?” he asks, discerning exactly what you were going to say. He teasingly flicks them with his index finger, chuckling when you whined in bliss.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “it felt so good, every time you tugged on it.”

“Pleasure with pain, hm?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just a couple of more steps baby, and you’ll be as kinky as me.” He uttered and that made you giggle. 

Taehyung stands up from the bed and walks to the bathroom. He comes back with a wet towel and cleans you with it. He wipes your cum-stained skin gently, his act so soft compared to a two minutes earlier.

“Y/n,” he speaks, “have you tried getting into any sort of birth control?”

“U-uhh, I haven’t… why?”

“I really want to cum inside you next time,” he says without holding back, and the thought made your eyes wide. You thought of feeling his cum so deep inside you, filling you up caused you to clench around nothing. “I-I—stop!” You exclaim and Taehyung laughs.

“Okay, okay,” he brushes your baby hairs away from your face, then cups your right cheek. “But I’m serious. Go to your doctor when you have time, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, smiling when he raised an eyebrow up at you. 

“Don’t test me, angel. I won’t hesitate to use those whips on you.” 

You gasp, “T-the what?” 

Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head as he leans down to press a kiss on your lips, “I’m kidding, babe. But I am reserving those for next time.” 

~

“I’d appreciate it a lot if you don’t put your feet up on my table, Jungkook.” Taehyung says as he looks at his friend expectantly. Jungkook only chuckles, his right hand playing with his bottom lip as he shakes his head.

Taehyung sighs and leans back on his chair, brushing his hair back in frustration, “I can’t believe you actually own a goddamn company.”

“And I can’t believe that you’ve acclaimed a girl like Y/n.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook with a hard gaze, daring him to say those words again, “Repeat what you just said.”

Jungkook laughs and stretches his arms up, then resting them at the back of his head. “I said that you’re really lucky to have Y/n.” he stands up from the chair and walks away, his back facing Taehyung. “Just tell me if you’re ever done with her, maybe I’ll give her a go.”

Taehyung stands up so quickly and made his way towards Jungkook, “What did you say, Jeon?” he blurts, grabbing his shoulders and flipping him around so they were now facing each other.

“Chill, chill,” the younger one chuckles, “I mean, since you don’t like that idea… how’s about a threesome?”

“Get the fuck out of my office!” Taehyung yells, pointing at the doorway with rage. Jungkook likes messing with him, ever since they were in school. Taehyung knew deep down that he was just joking, but you never really know what could happen with Jungkook.

Jungkook smirks at him, pushing his arm back down, “I’m joking, Taehyung. M’not serious.”

“Jungkook, I’m telling you this now, stay away from Y/n.” Taehyung utters with his deep voice, being serious as ever. “I don’t care if you’re joking or not. Y/n is mine and mine only, you know how possessive I can get.” He crosses his arms close to his chest, looking directly at Jungkook’s eyes.

“Oh, hyung, don’t go too possessive of her.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath as he slumps himself on the leather couch, ruffling his black eye-length hair, “I know, I know. Y/n’s just too special to me.”

Jungkook creases his brows together, looking at Taehyung with a grin, “Isn’t that what you said for Crissy?”

“Stop fucking mentioning her name, Kook. I’m done with her and you know that.” He huffs, frustrated. “I don’t want anything to do with her ever again.”

“Well, that’s just sad.”

“What?” he looks up at him, and all he wanted to do was to slap that shit-eating grin out of his face.

“I just saw Crissy on my way up here, and I think she’s looking for you.”

Taehyung scoffs hastily, shaking his head side to side in disbelief. “That girl just can’t control herself, huh? What does she want now? Money? You know I can give her anything she wants just to leave me the fuck alone, right?”

“I know that Tae, but look—that girl’s not alone.”

“Who’s she with?” Taehyung quirks his brow.

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, instantly regrets mentioning Crissy. He could’ve just pretended that he had never seen her, and simply act surprised. But that wasn’t the case. Taehyung was gaping at him with such an intense stare that he couldn’t run away from.

“She’s…”

“Oh just fucking tell me, Jungkook!”

“She’s with Y/n.”

~

taglist:

@taehyungmakesmeoof @cuddleyashlee @jkthethief @reflectionsthings @bangvateez @soft-pjimin @jiminiesthiccthighs @sugarkinky @allforjenrene @inutiledediscuter @hoeseokworld @tata951230 @bangtansubyeondan @bboop-bro @talperetz @megasecretme @sjt-kpoplover @aphrodiitaes @jeonjenny @pipwhale @fetchingtae @creepysweet @nama4 @cami--yg @nanna022 @honeyhyuckles @lightskintae @zimzimseulgi @bangtan-myhome @taehyungmakesmeoof

[snakeboistan]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)

Pairing: Sugino x Nagisa

“Alright, next question,” Sugino declared with a determined look on his face, banging his fists on his thighs.

Nagisa, who was sitting cross-legged opposite him, just smiled as he picked up another neon blue flash card, “Okie dokie, then. Explain the trend in reactivity of Group One elements.”

“Oh, uh right. I know this one,” Sugino scrunched up his face and massaged his temples, “it’s got something to do with the - huh?”

Both boys looked up at the ceiling when the lights of Sugino’s bedroom started flickering sporadically before looking at each other in confusion.

“What was that?” Nagisa cocked his head to the side.

Sugino shrugged in response, “I don’t know. They don’t normally do that.”

“Why don’t we get back to studying the-AHH” Nagisa was cut off by a loud spark of lightning, followed by a deafening boom of thunder, dropping his card in shock and clamping his hands over his ears.

“Nagisa?” Sugino asked, worry filling every syllable, “are you okay, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the bluenette tried for a reassuring smile but an uncomfortable grimace somehow found its way into his face, “I just don’t like loud noises a lot.”

When another sequence of sparks and rumbles made their debut, Nagisa jumped then pushed his hands on his ears with more force and shut his eyes so tightly that it looked almost painful. Sugino’s concern for his friend had doubled - no, quadrupled - when he noticed that the smaller male was shaking in place.

Shiota Nagisa Weakness #1: He’s scared of thunderstorms

Standing up, the black-haired boy walked over to his bed and quickly snatched up a thin blanket, making sure to gently drape it over Nagisa’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Sugino tried to make his voice light, hoping he was being as comforting as possible, “it’s just a stupid storm. I’m sure that it’ll pass and everything will be alright - uh oh.”

Just as he had begun to alleviate the other’s fears (like a good best friend slash host should), the lights decided that now would be a perfectly good time to pull a Karma and not work. Nagisa’s breath hitched at the tell-tale sound of the petering zing indicating that the lights had fizzled out. Of all times for the power to go out, now was the frickin worst. Sugino could faintly see the blue-haired boy’s outline curl into itself, the movement of the blanket’s fabric showing that he was still shivering in fear. Soft little whimpers we’re leaving his mouth in between his audible laboured breath.

Shiota Nagisa Weakness #2: He’s scared of the dark

‘Listen Universe,’ Sugino despaired internally, ‘I’m sorry I said that I hated you when I was kicked out of the baseball club but Nagisa has literally never done anything wrong in his life. So do you think you can help me out here because I really don’t like seeing my best friend scared.’

Nothing happened. Well, screw you too, Universe.

“Hey Nagisa,” Sugino whispered, pushing the studying equipment away and shuffling forward so that he was directly in front of the other boy. He slowly pulled out his hands and let them rest on Nagisa’s shoulders in what he hoped was a grounding gesture, “I know that you’re probably really scared right now what with the storm and the power going out but it’s alright, okay. It’s all fine. I’m here and I swear that nothing’s gonna happen to you while I’m around.”

Ever so slowly he brought his hands down to meet with Nagisa’s smaller, more slender ones, holding them gently. Another crash of thunder and lightning was heard, this time much louder and closer than its predecessors, causing Nagisa’s grip on Sugino’s to tighten as his breathing became more erratic. The blue-haired boy’s voice came out so soft and vulnerable that Sugino’s heart felt like it was getting pummelled by a baseball bat, “don’t go. Please.”

“Hey,” Sugino murmured, repositioning one of his hands so that its fingers fiddled with one of the hair bands that seemed to reside on the other’s wrists, “I’m not going anywhere, okay. I’m gonna stay right by your side, I swear. Would it - would it be alright if I hugged you?”

In the pitch darkness, Sugino couldn’t see whether or not Nagisa nodded his head but he supposed that his question was answered when another series of bolts and drums made him feel arms envelop his midsection and soft, silky hair rubbing against his chest and under his neck. Immediately, he wrapped the small, shaking bundle with his own arms and gently rubbed that shivering back as he felt the cotton of his shirt start to get wet with spots of tears, “it’s alright, see. Just take some deep breaths with me, alright. I know that it can be scary but I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go until you want me to, okay?”

It was when he was lightly ghosting his fingertips over Nagisa’s body when he felt it: a repressed laugh. Furrowing his eyebrows, he asked the other if he was okay, only for him to get a - kind of sheepish - reply of, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Deciding to believe him, the taller boy continued his ministrations only to receive the same result. A lightbulb lit up in his head as a smile started to form on his lips.

Shiota Nagisa Weakness #3: He’s ticklish

Thankfully, whilst Nagisa was held protectively in that warm, comforting embrace, his earlier shakes had diminished so now would be the perfect time to distract him from the storm outside. Normally, sneaking up on the twin-tailed researcher of the class or surprising him would be a feat as difficult as dressing Karasuma in drag and making him do the hula however, as the aforementioned researcher was currently preoccupied, now would be the perfect time to strike - and strike he did. With no warning whatsoever, Sugino wriggled his fingers under Nagisa’s arms, trailing them down to his sides and up again. Nagisa exploded into a cacophony of uncontrollable giggles, his hysterical laughter so overpowering that the baseball lover could barely hear what the other was attempting - and miserably failing - to say.

“WHA - HAHAHAA - SUGI- HAHA- NO. ST-STO-HAHA!”

“What was that?” Sugino grinned as the force of Nagisa’s shakes (now caused by laughter instead of fear) knocked him over on his back, causing Sugino to pin him down with even more inconsistent tickles. It was then when the lights turned on, making both boys look up again.

“Huh,” Sugino mused, “looks like the power’s back.”

“Yeah,” Nagisa’s voice came out breathlessly.

Turning to look down on him, Sugino froze as he took in their positions. Laying directly under him, Nagisa’s face was flushed as he looked up at him with an appreciative smile. Locks of blue hair sprawled around him like a halo and some stray strands had crossed over his face. As if ice water had been dumped on both of them as they realised how close they were, their bodies had become paralysed and their faces had gone even redder than Sugino’s wristbands. Wordlessly, making sure to not look at the other, Sugino got up and moved to his original position further away from Nagisa, ignoring the feeling of something that had filled his chest with warmth when he and Nagisa had first embraced and was now once again making itself known.

“Thank you,” Nagisa said, looking down in a way that Sugino could only describe as adorable, “for helping me. I-I really appreciated it.”

And then when Nagisa looked up at him with genuine gratitude and affability shining in endearing blue eyes, Sugino could only rub his nape and reply back with an embarrassed “anytime” as he was left wondering. Wondering what would’ve happened if he had lowered himself down to place a kiss on that pale forehead, if he had brushed away stray locks and just melted into the comfort that was his best friend. Irina Jelavic told his class that the right words can cause anyone to get entranced, but in Sugino’s case, those warm blue eyes had him hook, line and sinker and nothing would please him more than to be caught in their gaze forever.

Sugino Tomohito Weakness #1: Shiota Nagisa

[pastthebutterflies]

A Puff of Smoke

This one isn’t entirely his fault, if you ask King. Not in the slightest, actually. It isn’t his fault Luz decided to vanish in a puff of smoke.

Read here or at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929370!

Fundamentally, King is bad at keeping track of things. It’s a core piece of who he is as a demon. He acknowledges this, not out loud, granted, but he does acknowledge this.

Since moving in with Eda, he has lost not only his crown (lost, then subsequently found and brutally destroyed), Francois (turned up in the laundry a week later. The horrors he must have endured are unimaginable-), and, just now, an entire human teenager (yet to be recovered, but certain to turn up).

This one isn’t entirely his fault, if you ask King. Not in the slightest, actually. It isn’t his fault Luz decided to vanish in a puff of smoke. 

Literally.

One second, they were ready for bed, rolling out the sleeping bag and hunkering down like they do every night, the next, Luz is dropping the bag, brows furrowed, then  poof- there was a thorough lack of Luz in the room. 

He sits by the door, contemplating running to find Eda and making her deal with it, when he remembers that it’s just them for the next few nights while Eda makes a delivery for an out of town customer. Or, was just them. Now there’s just King. King and the empty air where Luz once stood.

Not good, he decides. Very much not good.

When the smoke settles- grey and thin like fog after a heavy downpour of boiling rain- he sees the sleeping bag, still sitting half unrolled where Luz had dropped it, and creeps toward it.

He sticks one tentative paw out to bat the edge of the fabric, shields his eyes. When nothing explodes, he peeks out between his fingers, sees nothing of note, and decides it must be safe to get closer to slowly unfurl it the rest of the way. 

Despite his wishes, everything is exactly as he expected it to be. Unrolling the bag reveals no hidden messages or a secret miniaturized Luz trapped inside. All he sees is bright blue fabric with a small indent where he usually curls up. Nothing that would suggest anything was wrong. Because there isn’t. Not yet. People disappear all the time, this is probably just another human thing, like sweating, or puberty. Luz would be back any second to laugh the whole incident off and go to bed. He's sure of it.

 Ten minutes later and he isn’t so sure anymore. 

The bed is getting cold and Luz is still nowhere to be seen. The smart response would probably be to call Eda and let her know her apprentice had vanished in a puff of smoke. Assuming she believed him, also assuming he could reach her. Now that he thinks about it, King isn’t sure he knows how to manage either of those. Which is fine. Probably. Onto plan B.

Does he have a plan B?

Of course he does, he just has to think of it first. After that, it will all be smooth sailing. Easy peasy.

When nothing immediately comes to mind, he heads downstairs to look for a way to call Eda. Normally, she would enchant Hooty to send messages in case things went, in her words, horribly wrong. But her buyer had written her in a hurry and demanded she come as soon as possible, meaning there hadn’t been time to set up the spell.

Eda was a day out by foot- even longer by paw. By the time he managed to find her, explain what had happened, and got them both back (hopefully by staff, his feet wouldn’t stand for another day’s walk), they would have been gone nearly two days. King isn’t sure how long he has, but he knows two days is two too many. If he wants to do this, he has to do it now. 

But first, he has to figure out what this is.

The smoke had crept in relatively quickly, without either of them managing to notice. What he knows: There was no smell and it left as quickly as it appeared. Now, Eda has made a number of enemies over the years, it’s one of the (many) drawbacks of living with her. King also knows that many of these enemies are relatively skilled in their fields, meaning that any number of them could be enacting their revenge plot right this second. 

A witch then, likely skilled in magic and, as they usually were, very, very upset.

What he doesn’t know: who said witch is or what it is they may want. Or if Luz is really involved or has just been pulled in from the sidelines by mistake.

King hurries back upstairs and finds Luz’s bag, awkwardly strapping it against his side. Its contents may not be of much use to King, but he knows Luz has started keeping predrawn spells on her, which could come in handy once he finds her. After, he takes Francois and carefully slips him in the bag as well with his head left to peak out the side. Just in case.

As King turns to leave, he pauses. He takes a moment to straighten out the now abandoned sleeping bag, he wants it to be ready when they get back from- wherever it is he may be headed. Because there is no way they aren’t sleeping for the next ten hours when this is over. With that settled, he starts toward the door.

Without a signal on Luz’s end, King has no real way of knowing where to go, so when he leaves, every step is going to be a guessing game to find the right way. He wishes Eda were here, she would know what spell had been used and exactly where to go or, at the very least, she would pretend to know. Or Luz. If Luz were here there would be no problem, they would be sleeping right now. And sleeping sounded so much better than death defying adventure.

Sighing, he glances back, only slightly considering curling back up, when the smoke returns. 

It creeps along the floor, inch by silent inch, same as the first time, narrowly missing King as he leaps up onto one of the shelves. A low rumble racks the house, knocking books and trinkets off the shelves and sending them plummeting to the floor with a series of resounding crashes. If Hooty feels the way the house shifts, he doesn’t bother to investigate. 

Dumb owl.

King, now left as the house’s final defender, presses further into the shelf to watch as a knelt figure takes form. They start from the ground up, smoke gathering in small, swirling whirlpools to create feet, followed by ankles, knees, hips, continuing upward to sit in the smoke, faced away from King.

The figure pushes itself to its knees with a shudder. Its head hangs, forming a creeping silhouette in the fog. The sound of its harsh breath fills the room.

As the figure struggles, King takes the distraction to slip out from the strap of Luz’s bag, push it close to the edge, whisper a quick apology to Francois, and let it fall to the floor with an unceremonious bang. As the figure jolts, King launches headfirst from the shelf to land directly on their shoulders.

“Out of my house, evil scum!”

He makes contact with a hefty  thump  and, together, they crash to the floor in a heap. While they try to recover, he kicks at the figure with his heels, one after the other in a blind attempt to keep them down. Before he can get far, though, hands come up from behind to wrap around King's paws to pull him off as he scrambles for their eyes.

“King, what’s your problem?”

He freezes. Goes rigid in their grip. “Luz?  Luz! You’re back!” He rolls away, suddenly feeling much less vicious as he sees Luz staring down at him, bewildered. “Wait, where did you go?”

As Luz sits up, she rubs her forehead and keeps her eyes tightly screwed shut against the light. 

“Ugh, remind me to never travel by spell again. Zero out of ten, worst experience of my life.”

Spell? As in witch? He was right. Except who-

Oh.

Oh right.  Eda.

She crawls over to bed, King following, then continues, “turns out the delivery was a scam, Eda pulled me in for back up, said she meant to bring both of us, but the spell went wrong. She’ll be back in the morning.”

Luz hunches over, one hand clamped over her mouth. Her face is green, something King is relatively certain humans aren’t supposed to be able to do. 

“Are you...okay?” King isn’t equipped to deal with human sickness, before Luz had used one of her colorful bandages to fix him up, but this time there aren’t any physical problems. Just that weird green look she sports and whatever is about to spew out of her mouth.

She swallows once, twice, breathes deeply through her nose.

“I just need to not be conscious right now,” she tells him once the green look has started to recede. She lurches again, this time slowly leaning back after to curl against her pillow. King follows suit, this time taking the spot near her head, instead of her feet.

Next to him, Luz turns over, one hand reaches to rest on his back and scratch softly. 

“Thanks for waiting up,” she says, only half awake. “Even if you attacked me, it means a lot.”

“Someone had to guard the place while you were slacking. Besides, it’s no fun being left out of the action.”

“Well, next time I get sucked up by a mysterious fog, I’ll make sure to take you with me. Deal?”

King curls closer, burrowing deeper into the blanket, “deal.”

[haikyuu-sickfics]

Vomit Warning

-

-

-

-

READ THE WARNING

Word Count: 1522

If there is one thing everyone knew about Kiyoomi Sakusa, it’s his great dislike of crowds, which stems from his even greater dislike of germs.  These dislikes kept him safe.  Safe from ailments which commonly plagued society.  However, his avoidance of germs fell weak in some areas.  These areas being Motoya Komori, no matter Kiyoomi’s efforts to educate his team's libero on the importance of personal hygiene, the optimistic player continued to prance around with no regard to any microscopic bugs which could enter his system at any given moment.  

“Oh come on!  You know I have the strongest immune system!” Motoya remarked, giving himself a hardy slap to the midsection.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a carrier,” Sakusa responded, narrowing his eyes at his all too hyper companion.  

The two had arrived at the training camp the day prior and already Sakusa wanted nothing more than to leave.  According to one of the coaches, an attendee of the camp had come down with some sort of bug and had to leave early.  What was the topic of discussion was the fact that the coach took great care in not disclosing what exactly the bug was.  This lack of information resulted in heavy speculation among the remaining attendees, it was even thrown into the air that the bug was one which resulted in hospitalization or even death.  However, this rumor was shot down immediately as another coach admitted the bug to be one which affected the stomach.

This news did nothing to quell the anxiety rising in Kiyoomi.  His over caution affected his practice, what with his avoidance of touching anything which may have come in contact with the sick player.  The coaches, annoyed with his behavior, eventually gave him latex gloves to wear during play.  And so, practice continued, until it didn’t.

Everything came to a screeching halt when Atsumu, who had been setting mediocre at best the whole game, fell to his knees.  The volleyball which had just left Atsumu’s hands flew right into the face of Kiyoomi before falling to the floor and rolling away.  Everyone on court stopped and turned their attention to the fallen setter, who was currently hunched over the ground with saliva dripping out of his mouth.  Water filled Kiyoomi’s ears as he backed away, stomach twisting and heart racing in fear.  He tried to swallow down his fear but his mouth felt as dry as the desert in the middle of summer.  The muffled voices of people yelling to get a bucket and Atsumu’s unproductive retches echoed in the spiker’s cotton stuffed ears.  Finally, a wet belch erupted out of the setter and a splash echoed throughout the gym.  A couple of coughs later and another splash rang out, this time sounding as though it was in a bucket.

Kiyoomi felt hands around his own, pulling him away from the scene.  The dizziness throughout his limbs left him too weak to pull away, so he allowed himself to be dragged by whoever was pulling.  Shaking hands reached up to wipe away the tears which Kiyoomi only just realized were there.  Terror flooded through him as he realized the gloves were still on his hands.  The exact gloves which spiked and received the same ball touched and set my Atsumu.  The same Atsumu who was on the floor sick.  A hand began circling the panicked player’s back, Kiyoomi assumed the hand belonged to whoever dragged him over here.  Finally deciding to look up at whoever was accompanying him, Kiyoomi felt a minor relief as he met eyes with Motoya.

“You should pro-bably take those gloves off,” Motoya remarked, holding out the ‘O’ in probably and pointing to the gloves which hugged the nervous spiker’s agile hands.  

Kiyoomi nodded, peeling his gloves off and tossing them into a nearby trash bin, the initial panic of seeing Atsumu vomit beginning to wear off.  

The rest of the day went on fine.  Practice resumed once the mess in the gymnasium was cleaned.  Kiyoomi still felt uneasy, panic still swimming around in his gut, but he was able to ignore it.  Day 3 had begun and the first half went without incident, fortunately the only symptoms Kiyoomi felt during the night were illusions and he managed to avoid the bug.  The gymnasium was alive with noise, from the soft pmph of a ball making contact with a body part to the ‘nice kills!’ which were shouted out every so often.  Everything was completely normal.  Too normal.  The normality of the day made Kiyoomi suspicious, his eyes narrowed and looking all around to find something, anything wrong.  Finally, he did.  Out of the corner of his dark green eye he spotted Motoya being led out of the gym, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection.  His face was screwed up in discomfort, he paused momentarily, only for a coach, who was visibly distressed and not hoping for another mess, to usher him outside.  Shock flooded Kiyoomi as he realized what this meant.  Motoya, who Kiyoomi was around the majority of the day, is sick.  His eyes widened, and the yells of his teammates stormed his ears as he noticed the volleyball bounce plainly at his feet.  Contrary to what happened yesterday, Kiyoomi’s mouth felt wet, far too wet than what was normal.  Whether having the bug was his imagination or not, he felt sick.  His stomach felt like a stormy day in the middle of the sea, one of those storms which could capsize entire ships.  The angered yells of his teammates soon turned into concern as Kiyoomi brought his hand to his mouth.  Panic was written all over his face, from his wide eyes to the deathlike pallor of his face.  Beads of sweat began forming over his brow and the calm part of Kiyoomi’s brain was begging for him to run outside.  So that tried, though no matter how much force he put into his legs, they felt glued to the ground.  Suddenly he felt a cold plastic bucket being pushed into him.  The hard plastic being pushed directly into his gut did nothing to help his situation, though he did wrap his remaining arm around it to hold it up.  An unpleasant sensation pushed against his abdomen, causing Kiyoomi to let out a cough.  This made everything feel too real.  Realization of what was about to happen suddenly dawned on Kiyoomi.  Saliva dribbled out of his mouth, which felt strangely dry.  Clamping his jaw shut in order to cease the saliva falling out of his mouth, he swallowed.  A decision which he regretted almost as soon as he did it.  The extra fluid in his stomach set something off, suddenly a ball shot up Kiyoomi’s throat, causing him to led out a large belch which echoed around the bottom of the bucket.  Before he had a chance to breathe in after the burp, a thick wave of vomit poured out of his mouth nostrils, landing with a slash at the bottom of the bucket. He took a deep breath in, taking advantage of the slim opportunity he had to do so.  Another gurgle came from the back of his throat as more vomit spilled into the bottom of the bucket.  The putrid smell wafted back up into Kiyoomi’s face, his back arched as a harsh gag ripped through him, but his stomach felt a bit settled.  Looking up from the bucket and seeing all the people surrounding him caused red hot embarrassment to mask his face.  One person stepped forward and offered him a paper towel, which he hesitantly accepted.  After blowing his nose and discarding the soiled napkin into the bucket, a water bottle was thrust into his open hand.  Grateful to get the acidic taste out of his mouth, he swished the water around in his mouth before spitting that back into the bucket as well. 

A coach gently laid his hand across Kiyoomi’s damp back, “Hey kid, I’m gonna take you to my office, okay?” Before he had a chance to respond, the coach led him away and to the office.  Also in the office was Motoya, who was seated on a chair near the window, hunched over a bucket with a moist rag laying across his neck.  The coach pulled out a chair and motioned for Kiyoomi to sit.  Soft noises of various items clashing could be heard as the coach rummaged through one of the desk drawers, finally he presented a thermometer which he motioned for Kiyoomi to put in his mouth.  Hesitant at first, as a result of the skepticismm of the hygienic qualities of the thermometer, Kiyoomi did eventually stick the room temperature thermometer under his tongue.  After a minute or so, the coach reached his hand out for the small device, Kiyoomi pulled it out before handing it over.

“Only 35 degrees, looks like you aren’t sick,” the coached murmured, “better get chya outta here so you don’t catch whatever he’s got.” The coach remarked, tilting his head towards the ill libero. 

Kiyoomi nodded, leaving the office before the coach had a chance to hold him there any longer.

[just-horrible-things]

[Warning - eye gore.]

Send a message, the letter reads, in the familiar elegant curls of his mother’s handwriting, to Inquisitor Bright. He has a location – not to find the Inquisitor herself, of course, but somewhere that her agents can be found. Return her acolyte – or what remains of her – with an apology. Remind her that misunderstandings are tragically easy, and that the affairs of Navigators are perilous.

Privately Tacitus thinks that it might be wiser to allow the Inquisitor’s minions their investigations. He has nothing to hide. If Cavarr have sins worthy of the Inquisition’s attention, Tacitus knows nothing of them and therefore cannot betray any secrets. Rebuffing them like this will surely just raise suspicions. Even Navigators aren’t entirely beyond the Inquisition’s reach.

But it isn’t Tacitus’ decision to make. And the House feels that the insult of such blatant snooping should not go unanswered.

“I will take dinner with the prisoner,” he informs his valet as he folds the letter carefully for storage. “See that she’s cleaned up, and find her something to wear, please. There’s no need to humiliate her. If she will wash herself, let her.” “What should she wear?” “Hm, I don’t know. Find her something respectable, would you? Black, I should think, the Inquisition always seem to be in black. I shall be informal.”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” “Thank you.”

They share a smile, then Tacitus turns back to his desk. He should write back to his mother, and while he won’t be able to finish the letter until after he has dealt with the Inquisitorial woman, he has plenty of other topics to cover.

---

The unfortunate throne agent is waiting for Tacitus when he enters the dining room. Not that she has a choice in the matter. She’s been dressed in a nice tunic with pleated patterns, and a decent jacket. Her hair is up like it was when he first met her. She sits with her spine straight, glaring sullenly at Tacitus as he walks in. There’s a slight flush in her cheeks and he wonders if bathing was a traumatic experience for her.

“Interrogator Ariadne Milonas,” he greets her with a thin smile. “Lord Cavarr.” She inclines her head, but her expression doesn’t warm. “I’d stand, but I don’t have that option.” Her left hand is cuffed to her chair, Tacitus has been informed. “You’re proved quite the enterprising opponent so far,” he observes. “Precautions seem… prudent.” “Are we enemies, Cavarr?” she demands. “We needn’t be. I am a loyal servant of the Throne. If you are as innocent as you say, we should not be enemies!” “Interrogator,” Tacitus chides mildly, one eyebrow quirked. “I haven’t even had a chance to sit down.”

She watches sourly as he sits down. But she doesn’t press the point, and she accepts his offer of amasec. Soup is brought in almost immediately, with bread pre-broken so that her single free hand isn’t an impediment. “If you think two loyal servants cannot be enemies,” Tacitus tells her, “You must be naive. And I find that difficult to believe of the Inquistion.” “Two loyal servants shouldn’t be enemies,” she argues. “We should all place cooperation in the name of Throne and Imperium above our differences of opinion. But yes, I’m well aware that pettty squabbles are commonplace, thank you.” Tacitus resists the urge to tell her she is welcome. He takes his soup thoughtfully, and lets her speak. “But my only loyalties are to the Holy Ordos. I have no stake in any political or economic disputes. I am not concerned with quibbles in the interpretation of the Creed. I don’t care about violations of the Lex. I care only for the good of the Imperium. There is no reason to consider me an enemy.”

Tacitus sighs softly. “Your loyalty may be owed directly to the Throne,” he allows, “But I am a Scion of House Cavarr, and I owe mine to my elders and my Novatora.” Milonas hesitates, but her voice is serious as she asks “Would you put that loyalty above your faith, and the good of mankind?” “Eat your soup, Interrogator. It will go cold.” She looks almost shocked at the rebuff. Insulted – as expected. And surprised. Tacitus expects her to argue. But she sullenly takes his advice. She hasn’t, he supposes, had hot food in at least twelve days.

She doesn’t let go of the topic, though. “You are more than just a tool of your family,” she tells him in low tones, while running bread round the bottom of her bowl. “You are an individual, in the eyes of the God-Emperor.” Tacitus chuckles. “That is so. But shall we not place faith in our superiors? Has not the Emperor placed them, in His wisdom, above us for good reason?” “That depends what those superiors are doing. You are not an idiot, I know that you would recognise heresy or treason if you saw it.” “Interrogator, I did not lie to you when I said that I have no reason to suspect any such thing of my relations. Of course you cannot take my word at face value, but I promise you – House Cavarr is loyal. There is no conflict between my loyalty to my House and my loyalty to the Throne.” She is visibly skeptical, but the main course is being brought in, and she does not press the point.

They eat seafood from the last world, grains from storage and greens from hydroponics, spiced and served in a rich sauce. Milonas maintains her composure, but she is quiet, and her concentration on the food betrays her hunger. Tacitus talks about the food idly, and she is polite enough to acknowledge it with terse compliments.

While they wait for dessert, Tacitus brings the conversation back to more serious matters. “You are mistaken in your belief that the Inquisition is an apolitical organisation,” he tells her. He can almost feel her attention sharpen to a narrow focus. “Many Inquisitors have a political agenda, and I doubt that Lady Bright is any exception.” He smiles at the flicker of surprise in her eyes. Yes, I know who you work for. “And even beyond that, the Inquisition as a whole has a vested interest in maintaining its own power. Which necessarily involves butting heads at times with other Imperial powers. Such as the Navis Nobilite.” “I don’t have any problem with the Navis Nobilite,” she responds. “There is a long-standing understanding,” he explains, “that the Inquisition does not pry into the affairs of the Nobilite. We police our own ranks for mutation and heresy. And naturally we take such matters very seriously. As a matter of faith, of course, but also because if we did not, then we would not long retain our privileged status.” “No one is beyond investigation by the Holy Ordos,” she protests with some indignation. Tacitus cannot suppress – or rather, chooses not to suppress – another chuckle. “You are wrong, Interrogator. On paper that may be so. But in practice… here we sit.” Milonas glowers at him.

“Inquisitor Bright will not take this lightly,” she says. Inwardly, Tacitus smiles. It is an admission of her own helplessness, whether she realises it or not. “I hope not,” he agrees mildly. “Truthfully this is larger than either of us. You have your Inquisitor to answer to, and I am still barely an adult in the eyes of my kin. We each do as we must. More amasec, Interrogator?” She nods and mutters a terse “Please.”

He would not describe the rest of the dinner as ‘pleasant’ per se. She is sullen company. But he thinks that he sees a fraction less hostility in her and a fraction more resignation. He cannot count it as a victory. He has her in the palm of his hand already, he doesn’t need to talk her around to his point of view. Very soon it will not matter.

He picks at his dessert with sombre spirit. Milonas is not exactly a charming conversational partner. She is a stone-cold killer and has been a difficult, violent prisoner. Her duties in the Inquisition are doubtless often unpleasant. But for all her personal flaws she seems sincere in her faith. It is a shame to break her. He hasn’t the stomach to do it with protracted violence. Who knows how long it would take? He doubts anyone rises to the rank of Interrogator without a certain strength of spirit. No, he’ll do this the quick way and be done with this unpleasant duty. Strong or not, she is only human.

Once the table is cleared and the staff have departed, Tacitus sighs. “I am sorry,” he tells the Interrogator, “that circumstance has made enemies of us.” She is watching him uneasily, clearly picking up on his tension. He is not trying particularly hard to hide it. “What happens next?” she asks quietly. “Next?” He offers her a wan smile. “Next I return you to Inquisitor Bright. It would not do to hold one of her agents hostage.” She starts to relax fractionally, but he is not finished. “Unfortunately now, before I do that, I must make sure the message sent is very clear.”

Her eyes narrow in suspicion, and then start to widen in shock as Tacitus reaches for the veil that covers his brow. Her free hand flies up to shield her eyes, but it will not help her. 

If she is strong she may survive this. If she is very strong she may even recover, in time.

He lifts the veil in a smooth, practised motion. His Eye snaps open. Warplight floods the room. His soul sings as he channels raw power.

The Interrogator screams. The hand that she clamps over her face is no defence. The Warplight shines straight through, like a knife. She sees what Tacitus Sees – the Warp, in all its senseless, unfettered splendour. The intensity of his Gaze burns.

She tries to stand, and falls back against the chair as the shackles on her wrist and ankles restrain her. Her scream pitches upwards through terror into raw agony. Her back arches and she throws her head back. Her fingers claw at her eyes, raking bloody paths through the bubbling flesh, pain insufficient to stop her from trying to rip out the visions of madness seared into her brain.

Tacitus screws his Eye shut, but the screaming does not stop. He feels queasy. He has only had to do this once before, and that was in defence of his own life.

The room stinks of burning flesh.

She screams and screams – a wild, wretched sound no living soul should ever have to make.

Tacitus scrambles round the table to her side, catching her wrist and trying to pull it away from her face to stop her doing herself any more damage. He shouldn’t care, but he can’t just watch. She struggles against his grip with shocking strength, and he finds himself shouting for assistance.

A minute or more passes in a whirling, nauseous blur. She stops struggling, at last, beneath the weight of hands pinning her against the chair. An aide holds her head still while another tries to fit a chilled dressing across the mask of charred and ruined flesh that is her upper face. She keeps making awful low moans, full of horror and pain. How much of her mind remains is impossible to tell.

Tacitus swallows grimly. He hopes that she is sufficiently destroyed. He hopes that he can send her back to Bright and let the Inquisition do what they will to save her. If she is still too much herself…

He does not want to have to do this again.

[jaydcstories]

Read this and my other Male Slave Fantasies at JOHN DEE COOPER’S ALL-MALE SLAVE STORIES or join me on https://groups.google.com/g/obedientservice

SAM by John Dee Cooper © 2020

Chapter 9

“The first thing you need to do is attach these electrodes to his balls and nipples,” said Paul as the two of them examined the various metal clamps that Paul’s boy had laid across Sam’s back as he hung stretched out horizontally face down, four feet off the ground. “But make sure they’re clipped on tight, otherwise they’ll come loose when he starts thrashing about.”

Jack was a little nervous of the neat wooden box that Paul’s boy had brought in from the Baron’s car with all its wires and switches and dials. It looked a tad too sophisticated for his liking and he didn’t want any permanent damage to be done to his slave — not just yet anyway.

“Which of these should I use?” he asked.

“Here.”

Jack took the pair of small red grips that Paul had given him and felt around for the slave’s nipples — but the way he was hanging they were difficult to reach and the flesh was drawn so tight around them that he couldn’t get a proper grip, so he gave the slave a slap on the backside and told him to pull himself upright.

It took all Sam’s concentration, what with the racking pain in his arms and the weight heaving at his legs and the effort of trying to breath properly. The leather straps were eating into his wrists and his neck was stiff from trying to hold his head up. Now they were attaching wires to him and he couldn’t bear thinking about what they were going to do with the black box. He wanted to cry out but he knew in the pit of his stomach it would be useless. He took a deep breath, grabbed the chains and, pumping all his pent up anger into his thick muscular arms, hoisted himself up until, with his fists clenched tight against his shoulders and his whole upper body trembling, he was able to hold his chest and stomach in a more or less upright position long enough for his Master to do whatever he had to do.

Jack certainly had more access now but the slave’s muscles were so tight with the effort of holding himself up straight that it was hard to get a purchase on the flesh around the nipples. He tried punching to loosen it up a little but he really wasn’t making a very good job of it.

“Let me show you,” said Paul and with a practised hand squeezed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger pulling it far enough forward to snap the electrode neatly around it.

“Now tighten it with the little screw.”

Jack did so and then, following Paul’s example with the other nipple, found it wasn’t that difficult once you’d got the hang of it. Sam had never known such agony. The clips dug in so tight, tugging at his nipples, they sent spasms of pain ripping through his stomach. He had to find a whole new way of breathing just to work around the pain. It brought tears to his eyes. He swallowed hard to contain the swell that was building up in his throat. Please, he wanted to scream, please, please let me down.

Through the hazy mist of tears he caught a glimpse of Paul’s boy standing quietly to attention in one corner, his smooth limbs and white tunic making him look for all the world like an angel, and for a brief, highly charged moment, Sam was overcome with shame at his own helpless exposure and weakness.

Jack meanwhile found grabbing hold of the slave’s balls a lot easier now he was holding himself upright but he wasn’t sure exactly where to position the electrodes. Paul suggested that to begin with he should just screw the clamp onto the loose ball sac, then once they’d got started they could experiment with fixing the electrode directly on to the testicles or even attach it to his penis.

“That’s the intriguing thing,” he said. “Every slave reacts differently. We can just play around until we find something we like.”

Once it was all set, Sam was able to ease himself down gently again until his arms and legs were fully extended and he was hanging at full length staring down at the floor, his weight supported by his wrists at one end and his ankles at the other, the pressure bearing down on the small of his back and his balls swinging loose with the electric wires dangling from them.

Jack ran his hands along the boy’s arms and felt the big muscles flex as they shifted under the strain and followed the swollen ridges down his back to the point where it flattened out into the area between the base of the spine and the bulk of his buttocks.    

“There’s space enough here to sit on,” he said with a grin, “if we strung him down a bit lower.”

He meant it as a joke but Paul thought it wasn’t at all a bad idea.

“Never be afraid to follow your instincts. We can test him later to see how much weight he can bear and how comfortable it would be to sit on him when he’s strung up like this. What a great way to entertain guests. Imagine — a string of slaves stretched out like hammocks. We’re always using slaves as furniture but this would be a whole new thing. But for now let’s concentrate on our little box of tricks and see what fun we can have with that.”

The first shock of electricity ripped through Sam, taking him by surprise, socking him in the stomach and choking him. It only lasted a few seconds but it knocked the wind out of him and left him fearful of what was to come next. And then it came rushing in great pulsating waves, a relentless battering ram attacking every part of him, twisting, punching, tearing, wrenching, suffocating him in its iron grip. There was nothing he could do to control it or deflect it. It surged through him in spasms, in and out, screwing up his muscles and paralysing his limbs. He couldn’t tell if he was making any sound but inside his head he was screaming down the heavens.

The thing that surprised and delighted Jack the most was how the electric current instantaneously transformed the slave’s body into something like a living, moving sculpture, taking hold of it, twisting and rolling it into ever new contortions and revealing a whole variety of new shapes and patterns out of the mass of hard muscle.

“I could go on playing with this for hours,” he exclaimed as they moved the electrodes around to see what new effects they could get. “He’s so much more than just a quarry slave. It makes me think of lots of new things I could do with him.”

“It’s an excellent way of finding out a slave’s physical potential,” said Paul as he helped Jack flip the body over to face upwards for a while so they could get a better view of the slave’s stomach and torso as the current rippled through it. “Try whipping him in between bouts of electricity. It’ll heighten the intensity and keep up the tension.”

Sam tried to prepare himself for each fresh onslaught, but they’d moved the electrodes so many times, even inserting one inside his penis and forcing one down his arse, that he never knew where the impact was going to land next. And now they were twisting him around and lashing him with a whip.

His screams were real now. He could hear them bouncing off the broken brick walls and echoing round the ruined house. How could he feel so much pain when his body was so completely paralysed? After a while the screams settled into incoherent blubbering. If they didn’t stop torturing him soon he wouldn’t be able to breath at all.

And then suddenly out of nowhere there came a great calm. He could see that his body was still twisting and contorting and the whip was still biting into his flesh, but in his head everything was still.

It was as if a heavy cloud of silence had wrapped itself around him and was lifting him out of all this agony and chaos and carrying him away to safety.

[nicole-lynne]

Always Come Back to You - Chapter Two

Hey there! I’m back y’all and it feels amazing. I’m sorry it took so long for this to come out, but I’ve been crazy busy this month. I will be trying to post more regularly again. This is an answer to a request by @witch-of-letters and it grew to an outrageous level. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts! Please like, comment, and reblog as I love the feedback!

Summary: Kat and Steve get into the army and go to boot camp. They have a crazy set of adventures. Sorry there is no Bucky in this chapter (he’s gone, remember?)

Pairing: Bucky x OC (This is still in 2nd person perspective but I gave her a name to make it easier for me to write a full series)

Warnings: None so far

When the man burst into the room, you were a little astonished. He was a short-statured man with messy hair. His glasses rested askew on his nose, making it look like he’d just been woken up in a hurry and run all the way here. 

“My name is Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” He held out his hand for you. You stared at it for a moment before reaching forward and shaking it. 

“Hello, my name is-” 

“Katherine Rogers. Yes, yes, I just came from meeting your brother, Steven.” 

You swallowed thickly. Great, Steve been caught and you were about to go down as an accessory. You were somewhat wishing you’d asked Bucky to stick around. He would’ve known exactly what to do. 

“You can relax, dear, we are not going to be sending him to prison any time soon.” Your shoulders slumped with relief. “Instead, we are going to give him a chance.” 

“You are?” This was the last thing you’d expected to hear. He’d been rejected five times and now they were just letting him in so casually, as if it wasn’t his entire life on the line.

Dr. Erskine looked up from the folder he was holding and studied you. The tension was building in the tiny room and you couldn’t help but fidget under his eye. 

“Why did you come here this evening, Ms. Rogers?” 

“You said you met my brother. He can be pretty convincing when he wants to be.” You said as if that was all the explanation he would need. 

He bobbed his head, chuckling. “That is very true. But what I asked is why are you here? I have a feeling it’s not just because Steven persuaded you. In fact, I believe you quite surprised him when you suggested it.” 

Your brow crinkled as you tried to pinpoint what exactly made you decide to enlist. “Dr. Erskine, have you ever had someone who you were so close to that you felt like they were a part of you? Someone who shared your thoughts, your pain, your happiness.” 

He shook his head thoughtfully, “I can’t say that I have.” 

“I’ve lived in this world for exactly 9 minutes without Steve. And for every minute after, he’s been there. He’s always known exactly what I’ve been thinking, he’s wiped my tears in every awful situation, he’s felt every emotion I felt. I know my brother can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, so I follow him around and keep him out of trouble. But I can tell you this, living in this world without him for 9 minutes is about all I can take. So if going across seas to join the fight is what he’s determined to do, then that’s where I’m going too.” 

You let out a shaky breath. It was dawning on you that you maybe should have given a better answer, something like ‘I love to support our troops’ or ‘it’s my duty to help’, but those all sounded like robotic crud. 

Dr. Erskine exhaled a breathy laugh. “You two are most certainly twins. Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got too much blind loyalty?” 

“I’m too stubborn to listen if they did.” You stood up a little taller and pushed your shoulders back. It was probably best to prepare yourself for him to tell you to go home. 

“If you ask me, blind loyalty isn’t always a bad thing.” He winked at you before whisking out of the room. You stumbled behind him, shocked he hadn’t told you to hit the road. “Have you got any nursing experience, Katherine?” 

“Uh, my mother was a nurse in the tuberculosis ward before she passed. She taught me everything she knew.” You strained to see over his shoulder what he was writing on the paperwork. 

“I will be assigning you to the same camp as Steven, in the nursing division. I have a feeling we will see some great things from you, Katherine Rogers.” 

He slammed the stamp onto the paper and handed it to you before heading toward the door. 

“Th-thank you, sir.” You read over the paper, flabbergasted. “Oh, Dr. Erksine?”

He turned on his heel, a raised brow in acknowledgement. “You, um, you said that you were with the Scientific division? Do you work with Howard Stark?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Why do you ask?” 

“I just read a journal of his discussing the new self-flying technology he’s been working on. His thinking on it is just...it’s fascinating. I bet it’s amazing getting to work alongside someone like him.” 

A grin jerked at the corner of his mouth, “Howard Stark is definitely his own individual.” Dr. Erskine took a few steps before pausing, “although, he does tend to think he’s wittier than he truly is.” You hid a giggle behind your papers as you watched the man retreat. 

~~~

Camp Lehigh was everything you’d expected and nothing like you’d imagined. The second you’d set foot off the bus, they’d whisked you off in another direction, away from Steve. You’d been handed a set of clothes and immediately put into training. 

The days were long to you. Even when you had worked at home, you had never felt the utter exhaustion that you were feeling from going through basic training. But the girls you were training with were nice enough and you can assume this is what it might have been like to have sisters. 

With every day that passed, you were gaining a variety of new skills. You were being put through a vigorous workout routine every morning and intense medical education in the afternoons. You could feel your body and your mind getting stronger and stronger.

Each workout gave you the opportunity to keep an eye on Steve and watch as he struggled to keep up with the rest of the soldiers, but you admired that he never gave up. Some things never changed.  You’d even caught a glimpse of Agent Carter sucker punch a guy right in the nose and it had truly been one of the best moments of your life. She was a goddess to you. She was smart, strong, witty, and gorgeous. And you were going to do everything to prove that you were on her level.

At the end of each day, you would crawl into your little cot and write out a letter to Bucky. You wrote about every detail you could remember. The new technique you’d learned that day, how you’d seen Steve riding into camp with Agent Carter, the way the blue sky made you think of his eyes, how much you wished he could see how well you were progressing. You had let to receive anything back, but you knew deep down that he was thinking about you too. You missed him more than you could ever put into words, but there was so much to fill your time that you didn’t have time to really think of missing him.

It took you two weeks to met Peggy Carter face-to-face. You were preparing for your first gas mask training sequence. The entire time, your mind was somewhere else, imagining ways that the gas mask could be improved. Although, you’d be way too chicken to tell anyone these improvements, it was nice to dream sometimes. 

You’d slipped to the back of the line, trying to buy yourself some time, when you clumsily bumped into someone. 

“Oh my lord, I am so incredibly sorry.” You turned wide-eyed, to find Agent Peggy Carter vaguely disoriented. Your heart slammed in your chest at the realization of who it was. 

“It’s quite alright...” 

“Rogers, ma’am, Katherine Rogers.” Immediately right-ing yourself into the correct stance. 

Peggy looked you up and down, pondering, “Rogers. Is there any relation to Private Steve Rogers?” 

“Yes, ma’am, that’s my twin brother.” 

“Ah,” Peggy bowed her head, a slight smile hidden, “and may I ask why you were moving to the back of the line?” 

You unintentionally cringed, “well, ma’am, my mind had been occupied with something else and I just didn’t want to lose my idea. Sometimes they can disappear as easily as they appear.” 

“And what idea would be more important than your training, may I ask?” Her face was stern now, her gaze scrutinizing. God, could you be more of a dingus in front of her?

You gulped, weighing your options of telling her, begging for forgiveness, or just shutting up all together. You wanted to clamp your mouth shut for the rest of the day, but for some reason, when you got nervous, you had what Steve would crudely call word vomit. 

“Well...you see...I was just thinking of ways to improve the operation of the gas mask to increase effectiveness, protection, and comfort...” You trailed off. The feel of several other eyes on you was starting to crawl on the back of your head like beetles. It was a feeling you wanted to shake off but you stayed still a statue. 

Agent Carter was motionless, considering what you had said. Your insides were cringing, waiting for the reprimand that was sure to come from your wasting valuable time. You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, effectively ending this conversation.

“And what improvements would those be, Rogers?” 

 Surely you’d misunderstood her. “Excuse me?” 

“I asked you what improvements you thought there should be?” 

You glanced around at the rest of the group, still praying that someone might step in and get you out of this, only to meet sympathetic faces. You knew better though, no one wanted to mess with Agent Carter when she was out to prove a point. 

“Yes, Agent Carter. I thought it would be beneficial to take away the hose that holds the filter canister, rather making the canister screw in directly. This would make the entire mask more compact and more convenient for carrying.” You paused, waiting for her to say something, but she was still quiet so you continued. “And if we use a durable plastic, rather than glass, then it would cut costs on replacement material and would be more lightweight for longwear.” 

It was dead silent in the room as you finished. No one even dared to move a muscle, they were all waiting for the outburst that was sure to come. You had no idea why you couldn’t just keep your mouth shut. The military was definitely the wrong place for your strong personality.

The longer Agent Carter stared at you, the more the tears threatened to spill out. You could feel your bottom lip quivering and you bit down on it hard.

“Those are some interesting observations, Rogers. I appreciate the ingenuity, however next time, please stay focused on your training.” 

“Ye-yes ma’am.” You stammered. 

Agent Carter gave a curt nod before striding out of the room, the click of her heels fading down the hallway. Shakily, you let out the breath you’d been holding in and marveled at the fact you hadn’t been sent to run laps for the rest of the afternoon. You smoothed down your uniform and turned back around to find everyone’s eyes on you. 

“Well, you heard the lady, let’s get back to training.” 

~~~ 

When Colonel Phillips had pulled you out of afternoon training the next day, your heart was pounding in your chest. Even though you’d had that little run in with Agent Carter, you had thought you’d been excelling. 

Your jaw dropped when he directed you to a room and Steve was sitting in a chair next to Agent Carter. 

“Oh no, this cannot be good.” You hissed. “What did you do to get us both in trouble?” 

“I jumped on a grenade during training...” 

“You what?!” You shrieked in disbelief and Agent Carter chuckled. “Look, Agent, I apologize profusely for my brother. He can be a real dummy sometimes but I promise he’ll be better-”

“Don’t apologize for me, Kat. You’re always talking about me like I’m not her-” Steve argued.

 “Shut up both of you!” Colonel Phillips hollered, silencing the entire room. He turned to look at Agent Carter. “Are you really sure about this?” 

Agent Carter ignored him and looked at you and Steve, her lips pursed. It almost seemed like she was trying to hide a smile but you weren’t sure. “Neither of you are in trouble. You’re actually here for something else. Please, sit down and please, call me Peggy.” 

You followed suit and sat down cautiously in the seat next to Steve. His leg was shaking, a sign that he was nervous, so you placed your hand on his forearm in hopes to calm him. 

“Now, let’s get to business, shall we?” Peggy’s eyes flickered between the two of you before continuing. “We have been observing you two since you’ve arrived. And we’re quite interested in what we’ve seen.” 

“What, exactly, have you seen? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Well, we’ve seen two people who are incredibly brave, determined to succeed despite...obvious obstacles, extreme intelligence, and fierce loyalty.” Colonel Phillips snorted in the corner of the room causing Peggy’s jaw to tense before continuing. “And in spite of some people’s disapproval, we have decided to ask you both to participate in a scientific program for the United States.” 

Your head tilted immediately in disbelief. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand. Scientific program? Like work in the science division?” 

Peggy cleared her throat, “well, you would both be entered into the Super-Soldier program. It is experimental but if it worked, you would both be great assets in the war and for the US.” 

“Experimental, as in they would use us as test subjects?” What the hell was happening. 

You glanced over at Steve, who had been silent this whole time. His gaze was focused on his hands in his lap. You wanted to reach over and shake his shoulders but Peggy started talking again. 

“Yes, you would technically be test subjects. Howard Stark and Dr. Erskine have been working on this for a very long time though and we would never ask this of you unless we believed we had a good chance.” 

“A good chance?” You stared at Peggy like she’d spoken in tongues. “Why are you asking us to do this? Isn’t there anyone else who could do this?” 

Peggy leaned forward, “Katherine, we believe that you and Steve are the best people for this program. You both have the qualities we think are important to qualify. We just need your consent and you will have agreed to help us win this war.” 

You wanted to refuse, to simply say ‘no thank you’ and go back to your regular training, but something in her voice made you hesitate. The look in her eyes told you that she believed in this program with all her heart. For a moment, you even wondered what Bucky would have to say. He’d surely be telling you to think this through before agreeing to anything.

You opened your mouth to speak when Steve interrupted you. “I’ll do it.” 

“Steve-”

“Sign me up.” He disregarded you completely and looked straight at Peggy. “Just tell me what I have to do.” 

You bit your lip angrily, swallowing down all the hateful comments you had ready. Instead, you sat forward slowly. “Fine, you can count me in. But on one condition,” Peggy raised a brow curiously, “I get to talk to Howard Stark for ten minutes.” 

Peggy laughed heartily before nodding her head. “I think that is something I can arrange. He’s quite interested in meeting you as well. He really liked your gas mask ideas.” 

You were so shocked that your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Howard Stark knows that I exist? And he thought my idea was good? Holy cow, I cannot believe that.” You looked over at Steve in excitement but he was still staring down at the table. He hadn’t made eye contact with you through this whole meeting. He couldn’t really be mad at you for apologizing for him, could he? 

“Yes, yes he does. Now let’s get you both in with the doctors for physicals and you’ll be taken to meet Howard and Dr. Erskine tomorrow.” Peggy stood up and gestured toward the door. 

Steve shot out of his chair and out the door like a rocket. You’d followed after him but he was halfway down the hall before a nurse grabbed your arm and led you in a different direction. But there was no question, you’d talk to him before the day was over. 

~~~ 

It was quite on the camp as you snuck through the shadows to your brothers barracks. He’d avoided you all evening but he wasn’t gonna get away from you that easily and he should know it. Once you wanted something, you were like a dog with a bone. 

Placing your ear against the door, it was quite so you hoped the rest of the men were out. As quiet as possible, you twisted the handle and slipped between the crack. You looked around and saw Steve sitting on his bed with his back to the door. He peered over his shoulder to see you and his eyes narrowed. 

“You’re not allowed to be in here.” He said brusquely. 

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. You refused to talk to me all day and I don’t know why.” In a few steps, you were standing next to his cot, staring down at your twin brother. 

Steve sighed and set his book down. “Kat, you really should leave.” 

You sat down next to him and grabbed his hand. “Please tell me what I did wrong, Stevie. I agreed to do the program and everything will be alright.” 

“That’s just it, Kat. You’re always doing things because you think you need to watch out for me or be with me. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow but if it’s bad and you get hurt, it’ll be because of me.” 

“Oh Stevie, that’s not why I chose to do it-” 

A knock on the door pulled your focus away and turned to watch Dr. Erskine step in. 

“Ms. Rogers, how did I somehow know that I would find you here.” He sat down on the cot across from Steve’s. “Can’t sleep?” 

“Got the jitters, I guess.” Steve replied for you both. 

“Ah, me too. Tomorrow is a big day.” Dr. Erskine smiled at you kindly. 

Steve rubbed his hands on his thighs for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?” Dr. Erskine nodded for him to continue. “Why us?”

“I suppose that is the only question that matters...” He was fiddling with a bottle he’d brought, trying to come up with the best explanation.  He tilted it in your direction to show the label clearly. “This is from Augsburg, my city. So many people forget that the first country the Nazis invaded was their own. You know, after the last war there, my people struggled. They felt weak, they felt small.” Your stomach clenched at the thought and there was an underlying urge to comfort him. 

“And then Hitler comes along with the big show, and the flags... And he hears of me, and he finds me. He told me, ‘you, you will make us strong.’ but I am not interested. So he sent the head of Hydra, his research division, a brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt.” A chill ran through your body. Wherever this story was heading could not turn out good. 

“Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle, and he is ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth.” It’s hard to see the point but you’re immersed into the story. “Hitler uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for Schmidt, it is not fantasy. For him, it is real. He is convinced there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do...he cannot resist. Schmidt must become that superior man.” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when Steve speaks. “Did it make him stronger?” You had been so into the story, you’d forgotten that he was sitting next to you.

“Yes, but there were other...effects.” A lump formed in your throat. Dr. Erskine gave you a sympathetic look when he noticed your face had paled. “The serum was not ready. But more importantly...the man. The serum amplifies everything that is inside, so good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.” 

When you hear those words, panic rises to the forefront of your mind. You’re not ready for this type of responsibility. What if something happens and you turn into a monster. What if you’re not as good as they think you are. Bucky does call you a brat an awful lot. 

As if reading your thoughts, he continues, “this is why you both were chosen. Because a strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for that power. But a weak man or women,” he winks at you, “knows the value of strength, and knows compassion. I’ve never met another pair who are more perfect for this responsibility.” 

“Thanks, I think.” Steve said for you both again. His brow furrowed as he slips into his own mind. 

Dr. Erskine gave you a reassuring smile before pointing to the glasses at the end of Steve’s cot. You hold them out for him to fill and hand one to Steve. 

“Whatever happens tomorrow, you two must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are... Not perfect soldiers, but a good person.” 

Steve finally looks at you and you know that what Dr. Erskine has said made more of an impact that anything you could have said. You lean over and kiss his baby soft cheek. He raises his glass to you both. “To the little guys.” 

With a giddy clink of glasses, you lift the cup to your lips. Before it has a chance to even enter your mouth, Dr. Erskine is frantically pulling them out of yours and Steve’s grips. 

“No, no, wait, wait. What I am doing? No, you have procedure tomorrow. No fluids.” 

“Alright, we’ll drink it after.” You respond cheekily to him. 

He gives you a look like your crazy before pouring the two cups into his. “No, I don’t have procedure tomorrow. Drink it after? Drink it now.” And he shot back the liquid. “Now, I’m sorry, Ms. Rogers, but you must be returning to your own barracks. You will see Mr. Rogers tomorrow morning.” 

You nod solemnly and get up to head to the door. Softly, you place your hand on Steve’s shoulder so that he’ll look at you. 

“Just so you know, Stevie. I didn’t agree to go because I want to watch out for you. I agreed because you’re my brother and I’m not gonna let you get experimented on without me to be by your side. Besides, I can’t let you have all the fun.” 

The corners of Steve’s lips turned up before he nodded his head in concession to you. You squeezed his shoulder before moving to open the door. 

“You better try to get some sleep tonight, little brother. It sounds like we’re going to be in for a crazy day and you’ll keep me up all night with your worrying.” You called over your shoulder before disappearing after Dr. Erskine into the dark. 

[boydgearloose]

#47 with gyro and Fenton (you can make it fenro but you don’t have to)

tw for a mild description of injuries, nothing too graphic but it’s better to be safe than sorry

Gyro stared at the clock on the lab’s wall, leaning back in his chair. It was about thirty minutes before he’d planned to go home. Normally, the inventor would spend as many extra hours as he could in the lab working on various projects, but he’d decided to allow himself a day off after a very stressful board meeting that didn’t exactly go as planned and that day was tomorrow. Since he didn’t have much of anything to work on, he wanted to go home as soon as he was allowed to and spend the rest of that day and the next one with no one around save for Lil Bulb and his three (sometimes four if the neighbors weren’t home) cats.

However, there had been a setback. Cabrera had gone on a Gizmoduck mission to stop a robbery at the movie theater, and Gyro didn’t want to leave work before him because he didn’t exactly trust him alone in the lab. The problem was that his coworker left over an hour ago when these things normally only took a few minutes and having his day off delayed because of this was irritating Gyro.He guessed the paparazzi had stopped him or something like that, which made the whole ordeal even more annoying because it was such a pointless reason to take so long stopping a stupid robbery at a stupid movie theater. If it was a murder or wreck or even a robbery that took place somewhere more important then sure, of course it would take more than a few minutes, but Gizmoduck dealt with robberies on a near daily basis! What was so different about this one?

The chicken was about to walk to the movie theater and chew Gizmoduck out in front of all the reporters and camera-men and fans there to see him until a ding from the elevator sounded and caused him to breathe a sigh of both relief and annoyance.

“There you are!” he groaned. “It took you long enough! What were you even doing out there for so long, you little-”

Gyro’s words was cut off by the sound of a body abruptly hitting the floor.

A loud scream left the inventor’s throat, and he turned around as quickly as he could to see Cabrera lying completely still on the floor, not even moving a muscle. For a second, Gyro was petrified, staring directly at the motionless body of his coworker. Good lord, was he dead? Did Cabrera actually get himself killed this time?

Right as he was starting to really panic, he noticed the very shallow rise and fall of the duck’s chest and sighed in relief, glad that he wouldn’t have to deal with the emotional trauma of someone being eradicated by one of his inventions all over again or the pummeling Cabrera’s mom was sure to give him if her son was wounded on his watch. But although he was alive, the duck still didn’t look too good. Gyro got this feet and slowly walked over to the other’s still body.

He was going to scold Cabrera for making him think he was dead for a good fifteen seconds, but then he got a good look at his wounds and started feeling ill again. The duck was lying on his back, giving Gyro a good look at his face which was bruised all over. He’d never seen someone with two black eyes before, both just as bad as the other. Not only that, but Cabrera’s face was covered in gashes, some of which were still bleeding. Although his shirt covered most of his upper half, Gyro could also make out some bruises and cuts along his shoulders. Everything below appeared to be fine, which meant there wasn’t any damage to his organs, but a concussion or other sort of brain injury definitely looked likely, which was just as worrisome.

“My goodness, who did this to you?” Gyro choked out, squatting down so he could get an even closer look at Cabrera.While he seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, the other understood what was being said and tried to crack a grin. “O-Oh, nobody, Dr. Gearloose. Just one of those Beagle boys I think.”

“You think?” This wasn’t looking very hopeful. “Can you seriously not even remember?”

Cabrera seemed to think for a moment and tried his hardest to shrug. “Kind of, yeah. It was a Beagle boy. The one with the really big hands. They punched my helmet to bits.”“They what!?” Gyro was trying his best not to freak out, but Cabrera sure was making it difficult. “Where is it? The helmet? And the rest of the suit as well?”He thought again for a moment. “Oh yeah! I took ‘em off in an alley because I didn’t want to be flying around as Gizmoduck without a helmet. Then I came here.”

“You left my hero armor in a blathering alley, you fool!?”

Cabrera nodded. “Sorry, Dr. Gearloose. I’ll call for it right now, and it’ll just come right back! Don’t you worry.” He cleared his throat. “Blathering balth-”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Gyro practically leapt on the duck and clamped his bill shut with his hands. “You are absolutely not going to call the suit over in your condition, do you hear me?”The duck nodded, and Gyro let his bill go. As much as it did worry him that the Gizmoduck suit was in the back of an alley for anyone to take, it wouldn’t be much without a functioning helmet and only worked for Fenton. He’d collect it later. Right now, he had something much more urgent to deal with.“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?” Gyro asked, looking the duck’s injuries over again. “Your face is almost entirely blue.”

“I couldn’t really remember where it was,” Cabrera replied. “That’s why I came to you. I was hopin’ you could take me.”

“I can’t drive, you dummy.”

“Ah.” A long yawn left the duck’s throat. “In that case, I think I’m gonna sleep here actually. Wake me up in a little bit, ‘kay?”

Gyro gasped, impulsively grabbing Cabrera’s shoulders and attempting to hoist him up. “Listen here, you,” he grunted as he tried to drag the duck’s body over to the small couch in the corner of the lab despite it being heavier than anything his rather weak arms normally lifted, “I have every reason to believe that you are severely concussed and in desperate need of medical help, so going to sleep will be the last thing you do, understand?”Cabrera nodded. “Hmmmmm…yeah.”

“I’m dead serious,” Gyro continued, slowly making his way over to his destination with Cabrera’s body in tow and trying not to get a hernia as he did so. “If you die on me, I’m going to be in more trouble…than I can even…articulate…and I’ll lose my job…and be plagued by guilt every second of my- geez, did you start working out or something?”“Yeah! You should join me sometimes.”

“By how this is going, I might need to.”Finally, Gyro reached the couch and practically threw Cabrera’s body on top of it as gently as he possibly could. He took a while to catch his breath from having to exert himself so much and then turned his attention back to the injured duck.“Okay, you stay there, and do not fall asleep if you value your life or mine. I am going to get something for those wounds of yours and call Mr. McDuck so we can get you the medical attention you need,” he scolded, reaching into his pocket for his cellphone.

“Wait!” Cabrera suddenly called out, grabbing for Gyro’s wrist. He pulled back, careful not to drop his phone. “What’s the matter with you?”

“If we tell the hospital, they’re gonna know I’m Gizmoduck!”

Gyro sighed, mentally muttering something to himself about how the concussion had possibly made this dummy even dumber. “They won’t. I’ll tell them you dropped a really big beaker on your head or something. We’ve lied our way out of these things before, remember?”“Oh yeah.” Another good natured laugh left Cabrera’s throat. “Do all that then.”

When he was about to turn around to get the first aid kit and dial Mr. McDuck on his phone, Gyro took one more look at the duck lying on the couch in front of him. For some reason, seeing him like that, completely vulnerable and beaten up, struck something in him. He wasn’t sure what it was or why it hadn’t hit sooner, but standing there and properly taking in just how badly Cabrera was hurt almost made him want to offer some sort of comfort to the other. And of course, although Cabrera wasn’t in a very stable state of mind at the moment, he still managed to pick up on it.

“Is something the matter, Dr. Gearloose?”

“Ah!” Gyro shook his head, collecting himself. “No. No, it’s fine, just…ah, are you…” He gulped, as if it physically hurt him to ask. “…Are you okay? I mean, elsewhere. You don’t have any broken bones or things like that? I need to know because of, uh…the story I have to tell the doctors that I mentioned so they don’t know you’re Gizmoduck. Yeah.”Cabrera tapped his fingers and screwed up his face in thought. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

The inventor sighed, stretching and turning to walk toward the shelf that contained the first aid kit. “Sit tight, Fenton. I’ll be back with…”

Gyro stopped dead in his tracks when he realized what he said. Even though he was facing the other way, he could practically feel the goofy smile on Cabrera’s face burning into him from behind.

“Wait a second,” his voice squeaked out, “you just-”

“No I didn’t!” Gyro shot back, face completely flushed in embarrassment. “I said Cabrera!”“No, you said Fenton! You said my name!”“I did not.”“Yes you did! You like me, Dr. Gearloose!”“I swear on the success of each and every one of my upcoming inventions, I did not call you Fenton.”“You said it again!”“I…ugh!” The chicken let out a squawk of frustration and stormed off. “You are severely concussed and are hearing things and that’s final!”

As Gyro trudged away and dialed his boss’ number, he could only hope that his coworker was stupid enough to forget his little slip of the tongue. But deep down inside, he knew that he was nowhere near it and started to mentally prepare himself for the weeks and weeks of teasing that would surely follow.