#crazy bulk cutting stack

[npctomc]

This is going to be a crazy week, y'all.

I realized that, with needing to travel to the office on Friday (2 hr commute each way), I'll have to take Friday as a rest day. That means to fit in all my scheduled runs for my plan, I need to run every day this week M-Th. They're all short runs, so this isn't the end of the world, but I'll also either need to skip my full-body work this week or do that on Saturday. If I move it to Saturday, that will mean I only got one full rest day this week, and it will be because I spent all day in the car on Friday.

Regardless, I'm persisting.

Yesterday was upper body. I recently got these adjustable dumbbells to supplement my kettlebell collection, and they really free me up to try more movements. My favorite exercise for upper right now is Overhead Carry, which I'm doing with two 10-lb dumbbells, because it feels functional for doing stuff like putting away stacked boxes in the attic or stowing luggage in an overhead bin.

I didn't have time in the morning to fit in a run with the rain, but I circled back in a break between meetings at ~9:30 and did my scheduled 10 minute recovery run too.

This morning, I planned to do my speed run outside, but it decided to rain right as I was leaving the house, so we swapped to the gym. I hate running on the treadmill, and my times are always way slower than when I'm free to run on the trail. Plus, the Nike app doesn't interface with my treadmill running correctly, which is frustrating. Outdoor running is king.

Final picture is the recipe I made for dinners this week: lemon harissa chicken with brussel sprouts, rice and quinoa. This was a Half-Baked Harvest recipe, from her Everyday cookbook. I love the flavors in HBH recipes, but goddamn are the instructions/calculations/photos always off from reality.

This recipe was meant to be 6 servings, according to the book, but only called for two chicken breasts. I sliced each breast into quarters, and we each took two pieces of chicken, so half a breast at each meal. This is a reasonable serving! And the recipe only made 4 servings because of that, even with me bulking it up with grains and an extra vegetable.

Also, the recipe called for 1/2 cup of olive oil in total. I used nearly half that amount, and honestly I could still have cut it down further! There was no need for that much oil.

I liked the taste of this, and I think it was healthy aside from the oil issue. I don't usually write in books, but I think I'll be making a note in the page margins on this one that next time it needs 3 chicken breasts and only 3 tbsp of olive oil (2 for the marinade and 1 to coat the potatoes).

[hollywoodx4]

SOME sentences Sunday…SEVERAL sentences Sunday…you get the idea.

Have this baby model Crygi that wrote itself yesterday for my dear @thecollectionsof bc I’ve been really holding out on the Crygi lately and I can only say soon or one day so many times before I feel guilty for abandoning my children

———

Crystal shifts her weight between her feet as she stands in line, an exuberant smile on her face. She clutches a magazine close to her chest, occasionally glancing down at it. But she can’t look long, or she’ll lose it right here in the line at this local bookshop between the woman with five beach reads and the young mother and her child balancing stacks of Pete the Cat books in their hands. Instead, she concentrates her energy on living in the moment; the shop smells like robust coffee beans and the undeniable fragrance of books. The playlist is folksy and she recognizes the Noah Kahan song playing because Gigi had been singing it all summer after they’d taken a coastal weekend away just a month before. The trip had been a surprise, and they’d spent an entire day driving up and down the gorgeous, ritzy coastline of Massachusetts listening to lyrics about how everything’s alright when she calls me back. It couldn’t be more true.

Right now, Gigi’s in a timezone five hours ahead of her filming content for a brand Crystal has never heard of but Gigi absolutely idolizes. She’s been working like crazy, but the constant flow of it all has really helped her boost her name. She offhandedly mentions more than once that Crystal can even quit her just in case job now that Gigi has a steady following, but she hasn’t been able to do that yet. She doesn’t want Gigi to think she’s using her for her newfound money (even though they still bulk shop at Costco and get the cheap takeaway they like on Friday nights Gigi is home).

She gets to the front of the line and reluctantly lets go of the magazine, only long enough to let the cashier scan it.

“I don’t need a bag.” She waves her reusable tote in the air, but the magazine just goes right back into her hands. She holds the cover up for the cashier to see and in a loud, giddy voice she announces “This is my girlfriend.”

Gigi’s the front cover of Vogue, an idea she’d held on to since the start of her accidental modeling career and hadn’t stopped thinking about since. She’d told Crystal the moment she’d found out, sobbing on the phone in the middle of LAX. Crystal had met her at JFK with a bouquet of flowers and a sign that read Vogue cover model Gigi Goode.

Now, she gets to hold the magazine in her hand. Everything her girlfriend has worked so hard for in one binding of glossy papers. Well, two-Crystal’s bought one to keep and the other to cut apart so she can carefully frame the actual cover.

She’s absolutely mooning over the photo; Gigi, clad in a beautiful champagne colored dress that she’d made herself from something she’d gotten off the rack. She’d shortened it, added boning, and restructured the entire thing to turn it from Little House on the Prairie to Real Housewives (or something like that; Crystal’s still workshopping the joke). In the cover photograph the old dress hangs in the background like a ghost. The headline? Farewell, Fast Fashion.

“She made this dress.” Crystal points to the photo, turns around so the woman with the romance novels can see the cover too. “She’s so talented, and just the most beautiful soul you’ll ever meet. And this is just…it’s a lifetime of hard work.”

Crystal’s so close to crying now that she has to peel one hand away from her magazines to wipe at the corner of her eye, but she’s not embarrassed. She can’t feel anything but proud.

On her way out (after stopping to show a few other patrons of the book shop, pointing them to where they keep their magazines) she calls Gigi, who picks up on the first ring.

“My brilliant, talented, beautiful girlfriend, I have a copy of Vogue in my hands as we speak.”

On the other side of the phone, Gigi squeals.

“I haven’t seen it in person yet!” Crystal imagines her jumping up and down, her loose curls bouncing and her smile absolutely illuminating the room.

“I’ll send you a picture. It’s incredible, Geege. You look gorgeous. And I might’ve told everyone in the store that you were my girlfriend because I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, Crys. You’re stuck with me for life.”

They speak a little bit longer, Gigi reeling as the photos Crystal scoots over on the sidewalk to take of the magazine come through. It’s even better than she imagined, and she’s dying to see it in person.

“Two days!” She cheers. “One sleep! And then I’ll be home for weeks and we can cuddle and lay around and I can use my fancy Vogue money to take my girlfriend somewhere with the best dessert in the city.”

“Where’s that?”

Gigi laughs.

“I don’t know! But we’ll have two whole weeks to find it!”

[supplementinspektor]

Die 8 wirksamsten legalen Steroide für Muskelaufbau im Test 2025

Supplement Inspektor hat die aktuell besten legalen Steroide für Muskelaufbau unter die Lupe genommen. Diese natürlichen Nahrungsergänzungsmittel ahmen die anabolen Effekte klassischer Steroide nach, ohne deren gesetzliche Beschränkungen oder gesundheitliche Risiken mitzubringen.

Was sind legale Steroide?

Legale Steroide sind Nahrungsergänzungsmittel, die aus pflanzlichen Extrakten und natürlichen Inhaltsstoffen bestehen. Sie fördern den Muskelaufbau und die Kraftsteigerung, ohne synthetische Hormone zu enthalten. Im Gegensatz zu anabolen Steroiden sind sie frei verkäuflich und verursachen keine schwerwiegenden Nebenwirkungen.

Die Top 8 legalen Steroide im Test

1. D-Bal MAX

D-Bal MAX ist die natürliche Alternative zu Dianabol. Es kombiniert kraftvolle Inhaltsstoffe wie L-Lysine, L-Arginine, Ashwagandha und Ginseng, die gemeinsam die Muskelmasse steigern und die Regeneration beschleunigen. Besonders während Bulking-Phasen zeigt D-Bal MAX beeindruckende Ergebnisse.

2. TestoPrime

TestoPrime setzt auf die natürliche Steigerung des Testosteronspiegels. Mit Tribulus Terrestris als Hauptbestandteil fördert es anabole Prozesse im Körper, ohne synthetisches Testosteron zu enthalten. Ein höherer Testosteronspiegel führt zu verbessertem Muskelwachstum und gesteigerter Kraft.

3. CrazyBulk D-Bal

Als kraftvolle Alternative zu Dianabol unterstützt CrazyBulk D-Bal den massiven Muskelaufbau ohne die Risiken anaboler Steroide. Es kombiniert natürliche Testosteron-Booster und fördert so effektiv Muskelwachstum und Kraft.

4. Trenorol

Trenorol von Crazy Bulk ist die beste Alternative zu Trenbolon. Es steigert den Muskelaufbau und den Testosteronspiegel auf natürliche Weise. Besonders beliebt ist die Kombination mit anderen legalen Steroiden für maximale Erfolge.

5. Anadrole

Als legale Antwort auf das anabole Steroid Anadrol verspricht Anadrole ähnliche Muskelaufbau-Effekte ohne gesundheitliche Risiken. Es erhöht die Produktion roter Blutkörperchen, was zu mehr Sauerstoff in den Muskeln führt und intensivere Trainingseinheiten ermöglicht.

6. Testo-Max

Testo-Max steigert den Testosteronspiegel auf natürliche Weise und fördert so den Muskelaufbau. Nutzer berichten über beeindruckende Ergebnisse ohne die Gefahren synthetischer Alternativen. Es gilt als einer der potentesten natürlichen Testosteron-Booster auf dem Markt.

7. HGH-X2

HGH-X2 von Crazy Bulk stimuliert die Hypophyse zur Freisetzung von mehr Wachstumshormon. Dies fördert den Muskelaufbau und die Fettverbrennung gleichzeitig. Als legale Alternative zu synthetischem HGH bietet es ähnliche Vorteile ohne die Risiken.

8. Anvarol

Anvarol von CrazyBulk ist die legale Alternative zum verbotenen Steroid Anavar. Es ermöglicht Muskelaufbau und Kraftsteigerung ohne die Risiken echter Anabolika. Besonders während Cutting-Phasen hilft es, Muskelmasse zu erhalten und gleichzeitig Fett zu reduzieren.

Vorteile legaler Steroide

Die getesteten legalen Steroide bieten zahlreiche Vorteile:

Signifikante Steigerung der Muskelmasse (3-7 kg in 2-3 Monaten möglich)

Erhöhung der Kraftwerte um durchschnittlich 10-15%

Schnellere Regeneration nach dem Training

Keine schwerwiegenden Nebenwirkungen wie bei anabolen Steroiden

Frei verkäuflich und legal

Kombinierbar mit anderen Nahrungsergänzungsmitteln

Anwendung und Dosierung

Die meisten legalen Steroide werden in Zyklen von 4-8 Wochen eingenommen, gefolgt von einer Pause von 1-2 Wochen. Die Dosierung variiert je nach Produkt, liegt jedoch typischerweise bei 2-4 Kapseln täglich.

F��r optimale Ergebnisse können verschiedene legale Steroide kombiniert werden. Beliebte Kombinationen sind der CrazyBulk Bulking Stack für Masseaufbau oder der Cutting Stack für Definitionsphasen.

Fazit: Sicher und effektiv zum Muskelaufbau

Supplement Inspektor hat festgestellt, dass legale Steroide eine sichere und effektive Alternative zu anabolen Steroiden darstellen. Sie bieten beeindruckende Ergebnisse beim Muskelaufbau und der Kraftsteigerung, ohne die gesundheitlichen Risiken oder rechtlichen Probleme illegaler Substanzen.

Die getesteten Produkte überzeugen durch ihre natürlichen Inhaltsstoffe und wissenschaftlich belegte Wirksamkeit. Wer seine Trainingsziele erreichen möchte, ohne seine Gesundheit zu gefährden, findet in diesen legalen Steroiden eine ausgezeichnete Unterstützung.

https://supplementinspektor.de/legale-steroide-test/

[sheliesshattered]

In my last couple of Batuu bounding prep posts, I've referenced my latest sewing project for that upcoming trip (3 weeks from now!!) but I've been buzzing along on it so well that I haven't done more than pause to take a picture now and then while I work. It's getting close to finished, so I figured it was time for a post about it!

Last sewing update, I was working on my blue linen vest, drafting the pattern and fitting the lining. The issue with the bust seam that was driving me crazy turned out to be a mistake with my notch markings, which didn't transfer correctly between patterns, so the two edges were mismatched. Once I figured that out, I was able to correct the error, get that bust seam sewn, and try on the lining for fit.

There are a couple of small things I want to change before I cut out the exterior layer of the linen, but the major thing that fitting revealed was that I needed to decide on which shirt I'm going to wear under it -- or at least, the thickest shirt I'm likely to wear under it. I tried a couple of things in my closet to see what color and texture looked best with the blue linen of the vest and the gray and black herringbone of the hooded wrap. The white shirt was too bright, the black shirt was too dark, the gray shirt too flat, the green waffle knit okay but still not quite right.

And while I was going in and out of my closet looking for options, I kept seeing the Solstice dress I sewed in December, with its pretty blue-gray cotton sweatshirt knit fleece. Since all the shirts I tried on just weren't working, I put on the Solstice dress instead and put the linen vest and the hooded wrap on with it. The color was perfect, just a lovely mid point between the blue of the vest and the gray of the hooded wrap. The dress itself wouldn't work, but maybe a shirt made out of that fabric?

The only problem was, I didn't have very much fabric left over after making the Solstice dress and the wide-legged pants I layer underneath it on especially cold days. I had a couple of pieces that were a yard or yard and a half long, but only one scrap with that sort of length that was 14" wide. Everything else was in the 6" to 12" wide range, and all with curvy uneven edges left over from the princess seams of the dress. I thought about maybe ordering another yard of the same stuff, but that would mean waiting for it to ship, then washing and drying it before I could even start on this shirt. And everything else I'm sewing for this Batuu day are all stash-busters, using fabric I already had on hand, nothing but a zipper and some thread bought new.

So I decided not to order more, and just draft my pattern around the blue-gray sweatshirt knit fabric that I do have on hand -- and thus the 'scrappy sweatshirt' was born. After looking through all the scraps I had, I drafted a pattern based on a fitted rashguard I made in 2021, which had princess seams (because that's the only way to get something actually fitted on me, lol), and a narrow contrast stripe on the body under the arm and a matching one on the underside of the sleeve. I used the neckline from the Batuu vest so those V-neck angles will match, made a couple of adjustments to the bust shaping, then cut out the pattern and started looking for scraps big enough for all the pieces I needed -- 14" wide center front and center back, shaped side front and side back pieces, narrow rectangular side pieces, and six pieces total for the long sleeves.

I decided to do lapped seams throughout the project, for a couple of reasons: First, I know from sewing the Solstice dress that regular old plain seams end up being a bit bulky in this fabric, especially on places like the bust seam where both sides of the seam allowance like to fold to one side, creating an area that's three layers of heavy knit fleece stacked together. Since this shirt will be going under a fitted vest, the less bulk the better. And secondly, since I was working with so little fabric, I knew that I'd get more mileage out of what I do have with lapped seams rather than plain seams. With a plain seam, I lose 1cm on each side of the seam, but with a lapped seam it's only about 1cm total -- and with fabric scraps this narrow, every centimeter counts, lol.

I tried a couple of techniques on some scraps that were too small to be much use in any other way, and decided on a tiny raw edge on the exterior, with one line of stitching, and 1cm of seam allowance on the pieces that go underneath in the lapping process. I had to use chalk to mark out that 1cm from the edge distance on every under piece, and then draw on markings for any notches, but besides that being a bit tedious, the seams went together nice and easily, and I very quickly had a front and back of three pieces each, connected at the shoulders with an under-lapped piece about 2.5" wide.

I cut similar 2.5" wide strips for the side seams and for the tops of the sleeves (since I'd had to split the sleeves down the middle just to be able to find enough fabric to cut them out of). The sides of the body went on easy as can be, exactly the right length -- and then I started in on the sleeves and realized that I had cut four strips to the shorter length of the body, rather than two at that length and two more at the ~5" longer length for the sleeves.

I had one moment of feeling like I'd screwed the whole thing up and wondering if I could possibly find enough fabric to re-cut those long thin on-grain strips. And then I realized, wait, this is the scrappy sweatshirt project, and the unusual piecing of the whole thing is half the point. So rather than even try to find enough fabric to cut out new sleeve stripes, I decided to do some intense (and decorative) piecing on the wrist end of the sleeve. The hooded wrap covers to about my elbows, and the vest will cover the main body of the shirt, so really that lower section of the sleeve is the thing that will be most noticeable, anyway.

I cut out 16 little rectangles at the same 2.5" width, and about 3.2cm tall (literally just the width of my metal ruler I use as a cutting guide, lol) and marked the 1cm overlap so I could start sewing them together. My plan has been to do an edge facing in that same ~3.2cm length at the neckline, hip-level hem, and sleeve hem, so making those all match seemed like a good idea.

I really like the final effect of this funny little shingled detail, especially for something that came out of a mistake in my pattern drafting and the restrictions of my very limited fabric. Once I had the shingles all added to the end of the long strip, I sewed them into the center of the sleeve, what will be the outside of the arm, with that same under-lapped style I'd done at the shoulders and the side panel of the body of the sweatshirt. It's a little bit similar to the pleated panel I'm adding to Jack's jacket, but without the pleating and with more raw edges.

With those panels set in, I then trued up both sleeves so that they match each other and the long seam is the same length on both sides, then added that 3.2cm wide hem treatment, for this final look:

The shingles end just below my elbow, so even with the relatively tight fit of these sleeves and the extra stiffness from all that stitching, I'll still have full comfortable range of movement. The strip at the hem is cut with the grain of the knit running perpendicular to the sleeve, which means it won't curl up or fray as much as the knit going the usual up-and-down direction.

The only place I couldn't do a lapped seam is in turning the sleeve into a tube -- or, I could have, but I would have had to handsew it, and I am so not about that right now, not with three weeks to go and Jack's jacket still needing handsewing too, lol. So I did a regular old plain seam with the raw edges facing inwards, but it's so normal looking that it really just melts into the background of all these other interesting looking lapped seams and raw edges.

So to repeat the first pic in this post, here's the current state of the sweatshirt, with my little leather gloves as an accent:

Tomorrow's tasks will be to attach the sleeves to the shoulders with another lapped seam (after possibly bringing in the edges of the shoulder top under-lap a little bit, so it matches the sleeves perfectly). Once I can try it on with the sleeves attached, I'll mark any changes I want to make to the neckline, then do the same hem facing treatment there as I did on the sleeves, with the narrow on-grain strip. The very last thing will be to even out and level the lower edge of the sweatshirt, and apply a similar hem treatment there, too.

I'm hoping to be able to get through all those steps tomorrow, and officially be able to call this piece of my Batuu outfit done. Then I'll be able to wear it while I do a final fitting of the vest lining, make any changes to the vest pattern based on those changes, and cut out the exterior fabric. After that point, I'm hoping the vest will come together pretty quickly, and we'll see if I have any time for adding little detail bits like functioning pockets or loops for code cylinders.

At the very least I would love to have a pocket specifically for my pilot's license, just so I can keep it both handy and safe from getting scratched up. But that's the sort of thing I can think about once the sweatshirt and the vest and the pleating stripes on Jack's jacket are all done. Three weeks isn't a ton of time, but on the other hand, three weeks ago I hadn't yet started on the pleating for Jack's jacket, much less these two other scratch builds. So if I can keep up a good rate of progress, I think I'll be able to get through all the projects and detail work I want to finish before our Batuu day.

And with that, I should wrap this post up and go get some sleep, lol.

[wordscrafting]

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Conclusion:

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[vertanvertan]

What Makes Crazybulk Stack Reviews So Special?

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[chiwhorei]

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear. 

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally. 

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you. 

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you. 

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton. 

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise. 

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are. 

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet. 

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat. 

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.  

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day. 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused. 

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away. 

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move. 

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention. 

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations. 

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly. 

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question. 

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution. 

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom. 

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and  frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch. 

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs. 

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.” 

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot. 

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?” 

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked. 

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response. 

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank. 

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit. 

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat. 

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation. 

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot. 

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees. 

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you. 

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out. 

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this. 

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts. 

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach. 

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[yoon-bug]

The IKEA Test (M) | KSJ

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: established relationship au || smut, fluff

word count: 9.1k

summary: One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

warnings: dom!seokjin, sub!reader, sir kink, use of slut/whore, dirty talk, spanking, but spanking with a belt 😳, impact play, oral (f receiving), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, hair pulling, IKEA-induced frustration, non-sexual talk of pegs and holes, seokjin ultimately being Best Boyfriend Material™

notes: inspired by how I’ve never felt more grateful to be single than when I had to assemble some IKEA furniture. I promise I’m not getting commission from IKEA for product placement.

When you had told Hoseok that you wouldn’t be able to hang out this weekend because you and Seokjin had plans to assemble your new bed frame, he had laughed at you and said that it was nice to have known the pair of you as a couple. 

You had taken his joke in stride and laughed with him, knowing that for any couple to truly go the distance, they would need to pass the IKEA test: make it through an IKEA store and assemble an IKEA product without breaking up.

You and Seokjin had passed the first part of the IKEA test with flying colors. You both had easily agreed to purchase the BRIMNES storage bed, liking how the drawers underneath the bed would help you maximize the space in your bedroom. Although, your easy decision might have more to do with the fact that you had simply ordered your bed frame online rather than spending a whole afternoon in IKEA. 

All that was left was for you to actually assemble the bed frame. Surely the two of you could do that. 

Or so you had thought.

But now, you were only moments away from ripping up the all but useless instructions to shreds before doing the same to your boyfriend.

“Why are you working on the drawers?” you asked through clenched teeth, the instruction booklet crinkling in your hands as your grip on it grew even tighter. “That’s the literal last step!”

“I think the last step is to break this bed in properly,” Seokjin teased. 

“There’s not going to be a bed to break in if we don’t follow the instructions,” you snapped, your frustration growing when he only shrugged. “We’re supposed to start with the bed rails.”

He nodded his head in that wishy-washy way that drove you crazy, the way that said you might be right but that ultimately it didn’t matter.

“We’re gonna have to put the drawers together eventually. Might as well just do it now. And it’s so much easier than dealing with all of this.” He gestured to the stacks of wood laid on the floor around your bedroom. 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. You then forced yourself to loosen your grip on the instructions. 

Earlier, the two of you had just barely managed to avoid an argument when you had insisted on counting and sorting all of the screws, bolts, and pegs before starting to actually assemble anything over Seokjin’s objections that you could just do so as you went. Disagreeing with him about the drawers would only heighten tensions even further.

It was just a bed frame. No need to start a fight over a bed frame.

“Fine,” you agreed stiffly and as much as it pained you, you flipped to the last pages of the instruction booklet. 

But as you started to read through the instructions for the drawers — or rather look at the pictures of instructions since there were no words — Seokjin continued to move ahead and try to assemble them without waiting for you to finish doing so. 

“Can you just wait until I finish reading the instructions?” you asked, but your tone had it coming out as a demand rather than a question. Hearing how it sounded, you tacked on a quick, “Please.”

He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow at how forced your “please” was and you gave him a tight smile in return.

“Why don’t you read the instructions and then tell me what to do,” he suggested. “I know how much you love to do that.”

His own eyes widened at the passive-aggressive remark that had slipped out and he paused his attempt to shove a wooden peg into one of the holes to look at you nervously. It seemed both of you realized that you were coming close to failing the IKEA test and you hadn’t even started to assemble the bulk of the bed frame. 

Trying to push through the awkward tension, you cleared your throat and set down the instructions in front of you. You then reached for a drawer front and its corresponding bolts that needed to be inserted into the holes on the back. Following your lead, he returned to his own drawer. 

“Why did we have to get such a difficult bed anyway? There are so many pieces,” he whined.

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now,” you sighed, internally agreeing with him. If you had known it would be so complicated, you might have just settled for a regular bed frame and put plastic storage bins underneath it. 

As you stuck the final bolt into the back of the drawer face, you let yourself revel in the accomplishment you felt from completing such a small task. With so much still left ahead of you, every win mattered. 

You glanced over at Seokjin as you leaned forward to grab the drawer’s side panel from the pile in front of you and froze when you saw him trying to shove a peg into the hole where the bolt belonged. 

“Stop. You’re putting a peg into a screw hole,” you told him, reaching out to correct him only for him to move the drawer face away from your grasp.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he grinned, but otherwise ignored you as he continued to try and push the small wooden piece into the wrong hole. 

“I’m serious. You’re gonna break something,” you said, but it only seemed to urge him on.

“What am I gonna break? The hole?” he scoffed and you grabbed the instructions to show him the diagram, pointing to where the drawing clearly showed a bolt was supposed to go into the hole where he was currently trying to shove the peg. 

“Just look!” 

With a roll of his eyes so exaggerated that you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head, he finally looked at the page in front of him, continuing to mindlessly try and insert the peg into the hole as he did so. His brow furrowed as he looked over the diagram and you could see the realization dawn on him that you were right. 

“Oh.”

Unfortunately, just as he saw that he was doing it incorrectly, the peg finally slipped into the hole.

“Shit,” he muttered. He quickly tried to remove it, only to find that it was stuck. 

“Seokjin!” you cried and it took every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from wadding up the instructions and throwing them (along with the drawer face in front of you) at his head. 

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, his voice tense as he continued to unsuccessfully pull on the peg. Clearly, things were not fine. 

“It’s not fine! We can’t just buy a replacement part if you break the drawer!” you snapped. He grumbled something under his breath and you decided it was easier to ignore it altogether. You stood up and walked over to the toolbox that was sitting on your dresser, rifling through it until you found the pliers you were looking for. 

“Here,” you said, your tone icy as you thrust them out for him to take. “Use these.”

“I don’t need pliers,” he waved you off and your grip on them grew tighter. He stubbornly continued to tug on the peg, now trying to twist it and hope it would loosen. “Don’t worry. You know that I’m an expert at pulling out.”

His playful words were undercut by both the frustration on his face and the way he let go of the peg to run an aggravated hand through his shaggy hair. 

“Can’t you ever take anything seriously?” you asked, your voice rising in volume and your patience on the verge of snapping.

“Can’t you stop taking everything seriously?” he bit back, his own patience seeming to run almost as thin. “It’s just a fucking bed frame.”

“Exactly. It’s just a bed frame and I can’t even trust you to do that.” You crossed your arms over your chest in displeasure. “I didn’t sign up to be your nanny.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you seem to really get off on being so controlling.” Your jaw dropped at the insult. “I mean, can you stop being so uptight for five minutes or will you collapse the moment you pull that stick out of your ass?” 

Your grip on the pliers still in your hand was now so tight that your fingers were starting to hurt. 

“Oh, I’m sorry—” you began with narrowed eyes, only to be cut off when he gave a dramatic gasp.

“You know how to say sorry?!” 

“—I’m sorry that I’m too busy being the only adult in the relationship to have any sort of fun,” you continued, raising your voice to be heard over him. “If it wasn’t for that stick up my ass, then there would be no one to make sure that our rent wasn’t late or that our bills were getting paid or that we weren’t investing our money in some multi-level marketing scheme!”

“Hey! How was I supposed to know that Complete Citchen Classics wasn’t a legitimate company?” he asked, acting like you had taken a low blow.

You tossed your hands up in exasperation. 

“Fucking Google! That’s how you were supposed to know. Or maybe it’s that they spelled ‘kitchen’ with a ‘c’!”

Pride seemingly wounded from being reminded of how easily he had almost been conned, he went back to forcefully trying to pull out the peg with a scowl. 

“Will you just use the pliers?!” you shouted, shaking them furiously in your hand.

“I don’t need — Oh. Oops.”

His eyes moved back and forth from the broken wooden piece in his fingers to the hole where the other half of the broken piece was still stuck — only now there was no longer anything sticking out for you to get a grip on to remove the piece. 

It was strange. It was like all of your emotions and frustrations had melted away into pure white. You had never felt this sense of calm before. But as you watched him try to use his nails to pull what was left of the wooden piece from the hole, you realized that it wasn’t calmness. 

It was anger so intense that it eclipsed even your own ability to comprehend it. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!" you yelled.

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed, but it did little to soothe your temper. In fact, you felt like if you were in the same room as him any longer then you might have an aneurysm. 

“For fuck’s sake, I should have just assembled it myself!” you snapped as you stormed out of the bedroom, throwing the pliers back in the toolbox as you passed it.

The empty IKEA boxes in the living room only stoked your furor the second you caught sight of them. You hurried out of the apartment, grabbing your purse and keys as you went before slamming the door behind you as loudly as you could.

You ended up at your neighborhood movie theatre, mindlessly scrolling through the automated kiosk in front of you to find the movie with the longest running time. You sighed in relief when you saw that there was one that was almost three hours long. From the picture of the movie poster on the screen, it seemed to be some sort of action epic. 

Perfect. Maybe watching a bunch of cars and planes exploding for the next three hours would be the perfect outlet for your anger. Satisfied with your decision, you bought a ticket for the showing that was about to start. 

You paused as you began to put away your credit card. After a moment, you bought a second ticket for the next showing as well. Six hours of some dumb action movie should be enough to get Seokjin’s idiocy off your mind. 

That and the largest tub of popcorn they sold at the concessions stand. You frowned at the long line, knowing you would miss the beginning of the movie, before realizing that you would just catch it during the second showing. 

When you finally did quietly slip into the theatre and your seat, you almost immediately found yourself grateful for the mindlessness of the plot. It fully satisfied your need for something that didn’t require you to think any deeper than wondering how the nameless hero would escape capture yet again. 

And when the film ended and the next showing began, the thin plot allowed you the opportunity to reflect back on your argument with Seokjin with a cooler head. 

It was rare for the two of you to fight, although that was more due to his easygoing nature rather than how harmonious you were as a couple. 

You knew you were difficult to be in a relationship with. You were as strong-willed and assertive in your personal life as you were in your professional life. And while your ambitious nature and need for perfection had led to you graduating law school at the top of your class and now one of the leading junior associates at your law firm, it hadn’t been great for your past relationships. 

Your exes tended to share the same reasons for why they were breaking up with you: you were too high-strung, you didn’t know how to let loose, you obsessed over every little thing. 

Which was why when Seokjin came along, you were surprised by just how well the two of you seemed to fit. He was your exact opposite, but that was what seemed to work.

He was almost never bothered by all the things about you that had driven away other men. When you were too serious, he would crack a cheesy joke. When you needed something to be done a certain way, he let you do it. When you grew frustrated, he was there to calm you. 

As you continued down this train of thought, you could feel guilt to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. For all of the times that he had accommodated your demands, could you say the same about yourself? How often were you the one willing to compromise? 

Would it really have killed you to just have been more patient with Seokjin, to have tried to explain things more calmly? You ignored the petty voice in the back of your head screaming “yes”. While you still thought that you were right about how to assemble the bed, there had been no need to lose your temper. He was right; it was just a bed frame. 

Your thoughts turned to what he could have done once you stormed out. Was he pissed at you? Was he going to try and put the bed together on his own to spite you? Was he happy you were gone? Was he finally starting to rethink whether he could handle spending the rest of his life with someone so controlling?

Your sense of guilt only grew when you came to the conclusion that none of those hypotheticals were probably true. He was probably waiting patiently at home for you and would reassure you that things were fine the moment you stepped through the door. The thought made your heart ache. You didn’t deserve him. 

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try and hang onto him.

By the time the end credits began to roll, you decided that you were ready to return home with your tail tucked beneath your legs. And if you decided to stop on the way home and pick up dinner from Seokjin’s favorite restaurant to help sweeten your apology then who could blame you. 

As you inserted your keys into the lock of the front door, you couldn’t help but think that even the sound of the lock turning was remorseful to your ears. Your guilty conscience was really eating away at you. But as you opened the door and entered the apartment, you froze in shock.

The living room that had been filled with IKEA boxes when you left was now surprisingly empty. It was as spotless as it had been before the bed frame from hell had arrived. It was amazing what just that alone did for easing your anxiety about your fight with Seokjin.

Shaking away your awe, you entered the apartment and softly shut the door behind you. You were slipping off your shoes and hanging up your purse when you noticed something else that was missing — your boyfriend. You set the bag of takeaway on the kitchen counter and that’s when you heard the faint sound of him humming coming from further into the apartment. 

Slowly, you made your way towards the bedroom and once you were standing in the open doorway, you gasped in surprise at the sight before you.

Where you had left stacks of wooden furniture pieces and piles of screws and bolts around the room, there was now a fully-assembled bed frame, complete with the mattress placed on top and an almost perfectly made bed as Seokjin placed the final remaining pillow at the head of it.

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your gasp and gave you an unbothered smile.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted as he gave the duvet one last tug to straighten it before standing fully and placing his hands on his waist, looking at the sight of the fully-assembled bed frame and perfectly made bed with pride.

“The bed…” you trailed off, walking towards him to stand at his side.

“Yeah! It looks great, doesn’t it?” 

You could only nod dumbly, your mouth still hanging open slightly in disbelief.

“But…the drawer front? The broken peg?”

He turned to you with a mischievous grin before reaching out to grab onto your hips and tug you close. Your hands instinctively came up to rest on his biceps as you continued to stare in wonder at the bed.

“Well, you see, I happen to have this really, really smart girlfriend and she suggested a pair of pliers. It took some digging, but I was able to pull out the peg.” You turned your head away from the bed to look up at him with an amused smile. “In fact, she’s so smart she made us count out all the pieces beforehand so that we knew there were a couple of extra pegs.”

You giggled softly. 

“Wow, she sounds like a real catch,” you teased in return and his grin grew wider. 

“Oh, you can’t even imagine.”

You shook your head in disbelief before smiling back at him, your affection for him written clearly across your features. 

“I can’t believe you put this whole thing together by yourself,” you said and he threw his head back with a characteristically loud laugh.  

“Oh, I didn’t,” he finally replied, the humor still present in his voice, and your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Huh?”

“I just hired someone from TaskRabbit to do it for us. We should have just done that from the beginning,” he told you and this time it was your turn to laugh.

You were sure there were stars in your eyes as you looked up at him, there always were when he managed to take you by surprise. You brought your hand up to fondly brush his hair from his forehead.

“Who knew my boyfriend was so smart?” you grinned and he laughed in return.

“Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It’s our secret,” he whispered. 

He then leaned forward to give you a gentle kiss and you smiled against his lips. But when he pulled back, your small smile turned slightly sad as you thought back on the things you had said to him in the heat of the moment and how, even despite your argument, Seokjin had welcomed you back home with open arms and his usual smile.

“I’m sorry for getting so mad,” you said. “You were right. It was just a bed frame. There was no need to lose my temper.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have listened to you.” 

You gave him a small shake of your head, wordlessly assuring him that it was fine.

“I need to stop obsessing over every little thing,” you sighed. “I need to let things go.”

But then he reminded you all over again why you loved him when he just shrugged with a good-natured smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. You can obsess over the little things. That’s who you are.”

“But you—” 

“And I’ll get over it because that’s who I am,” he interrupted and you felt your heart bursting with love for him at his words. His expression then turned slightly more serious, wanting you to know he was sincere in what he said next.

“What you think of as ‘obsessing over the little things,’ I just see as part of how driven you are. I love that you don’t settle for taking shortcuts and or letting things that are done half-assed slide,” he explained. “I love it because I’m the opposite. I love that being around you means that I can be who I am because you’re always there to make sure that we do better when we’re together.”

His words meant so much to you that you could feel the way your eyes were prickling with the threat of tears. Always observant, he gave you a sweet kiss before any tears could fully form. When he pulled away, the smile you loved so much was on his lips.

“If all of that means we have a fight when we’re doing what must literally be the most frustrating task on the planet, then I think it’s worth it.”

You raked your fingers through his hair lovingly. You really had found not just the perfect man, but the perfect man for you.

“I love you,” you said and he smiled at you.

“I love you, too,” he replied before bringing his plush lips down to meet yours. He then tugged you even closer as you buried your hands deeply into his soft hair. The kiss grew more heated as he parted your lips with his tongue to slide against yours, causing you to moan softly into his mouth. 

You were so lost in his soft lips that you almost missed the way his hand was snaking up your body to gently but firmly wrap his fingers around your throat — almost. He broke the kiss and his hold on you kept you from instinctively trying to close the gap. 

When your eyelids fluttered open, you couldn’t help but rub your legs together at the look on his face. Gone was your playful and always understanding boyfriend. In his place was a man who expected absolute submission and had zero patience for any form of disobedience. 

“I know you’re sorry,” he started, his voice low and you were sure that your pupils must have been blown wide with how turned on you already were. “But you know that I can’t let you get away with talking to me like that in here, baby girl.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed out. When he gave your throat a slow squeeze, you let out a small whimper.

“What’s your safeword, baby?” he asked and the question alone had you ready to cream your underwear. If you didn’t know where this night was going before, you sure did now.

“Strawberry,” you whispered and he gave you an approving smile. 

“Good girl,” he said and just that simple praise over something so small was enough to have your chest swelling with pride. But any remaining trace of gentleness on his features quickly disappeared along with his next words. “Strip.”

He stepped back from you to watch and you made quick work of pulling off your shirt, your bra not far behind. Your jeans and underwear joined the small pile of clothing off to the side so that you were standing completely bare in front of him. You clasped your hands behind your back and dropped your chin to your chest, your stance radiating the submission that Seokjin expected in the bedroom. 

You could feel his eyes raking over your nude figure and you quickly snuffed out the urge to lift your gaze to meet his. Doing so would break one of his rules and when it came to the bedroom, you followed his every order — without question. 

The silence between you stretched on as he continued to look at you without making a move. Every second that passed had the wetness between your legs growing to the point that you were sure your inner thighs would be shining when you finally parted them. Your nipples had hardened from a combination of the room’s cool temperature and the way Seokjin was staring at you.

Fuck. You were so turned on and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Turn around,” he ordered. “Hands on the bed.” 

You immediately did as you were told. You turned your back to him and leaned forward to place your hands on the mattress. Even through the haze of your arousal, you couldn’t help but note how good the new bed frame looked. You would have to make sure to tell Seokjin. 

Of course, now was not the time to do so. You were brought fully back to the moment when you heard him slowly approaching you. You were sure you made quite the sight for him with the way your back arched, presenting your ass to him perfectly. 

His footsteps came to a stop right behind you. Your fingers gripped onto the duvet tightly in anticipation of his next move. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than a minute, you heard him shifting. It took every ounce of your self-control to keep from glancing over your shoulder to see what he was doing. You couldn’t help but slightly jump when you felt him finally drag a fingertip down the back of your thigh and you realized that he had knelt down behind you. He let out a dark chuckle at your reaction. 

“Open.”

You followed his one-word command and widened your stance, exposing your pussy to him fully. From the sudden chill on your inner thighs, you knew that your earlier assumption about how wet you were was correct. And it was something that Seokjin easily caught now that he was eye-level with your most intimate parts. 

“Damn, you’re dripping already,” he remarked and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ve barely even laid a finger on you and you’re already this wet.”

Suddenly, his thumbs were on either side of your folds and spreading them apart to give him an even better view of your wetness straight from the source.

“I wonder what they would say,” he mused, his tone so casual that it was like you were having a discussion over Sunday brunch and he wasn’t only a foot away from having his face buried in your pussy. 

“All those men who get so scared of you in the courtroom, all those men at your law firm, all those men who were too insecure to be in a relationship with you. What would they say if they could see you like this — bent over and begging to take your punishment?”

Your breathing sped up and your walls fluttered around nothing at his words and from his chuckle, neither escaped him. The small puff of air he let out hit your slick folds and you bit back a gasp.

“They all think of you as this strong-headed woman who always needs to be in control. They don’t know that all it takes is a firm hand to turn you into such a needy slut.” As if to emphasize his point, he shifted one of his thumbs to brush lightly against your clit and you couldn’t hold back your soft whimper at the sensation. 

But just that barely perceptible noise was enough to break one of his rules — remain silent unless spoken to. Your punishment came swiftly when his light touch on your clit was replaced by his fingers roughly pinching it. You gripped tightly onto the duvet and bit down on your lip to keep from letting out another sound. 

After a few moments, he pinched your clit even harder, testing your obedience. Seemingly satisfied when you remained quiet, he let go. You exhaled with relief as you felt the blood rushing back to the small bundle of nerves, along with another sharp wave of arousal. 

“See? A firm hand.” 

Nothing escaped Seokjin’s eye. 

Both of his hands fell away from your folds and you heard him stand up, followed by the telltale sound of his belt buckle as he undid it. The fwip-fwip of his belt sliding through the belt loops of his jeans had your breathing speeding up. 

You knew what was coming. 

Once it was free, you could hear the way the leather stretched as he toyed with it, folding it over in his hands. And then he brought the strip of leather right up to the globes of your ass and just held it there. 

“How many do you think you deserve, baby girl?” he finally asked, but it was very clearly a question that he already had the answer to.

“However many you think I’ve earned, sir,” you replied, your voice rough with both disuse and desire. 

He rewarded your answer by trailing the belt down your ass to brush over the sodden folds of your cunt and your eyes fluttered shut at the stimulation. You wanted so badly to join him in rubbing against the belt but stayed motionless. After giving you just the barest taste of pleasure, he dragged the belt back up to your ass and you felt your face heat at the slick trail of your arousal left in its wake. 

“I think twenty should do the trick,” he said and your eyes widened. While twenty wasn’t an unheard-of number when it came to his punishments, it was certainly more than you were expecting. You wondered if his pride was still wounded from you having brought up the pyramid scheme. “Do you think you can take it like a good little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you murmured breathlessly. He began to gently but firmly swat the belt against your ass, preparing your skin for the punishment that was imminent. 

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees.” 

You released your death grip on the duvet to do as he ordered and you gave your hands a quick shake as you climbed onto the bed to help encourage the circulation back into your fingers before you bent back over onto your hands. Once you were in position, he gave your ass another few slightly harder smacks.

“I’ll even count them for you,” he offered, like he was doing you a favor when in actuality, you knew that he was the one truly enjoyed being able to count each and every strike. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

The belt paused its swatting and fell away from your skin, the wordless signal that he was about to begin. 

And then the room was filled with a loud crack! as he brought the belt back down on your left asscheek. You sharply inhaled and squeezed your eyes shut at the pain, but refrained from letting out any further noise that would have invited Seokjin’s ire. 

“One,” he counted as he ran the palm of his free hand against the smarting skin to soothe it and you took a deep breath. 

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” Your voice was clear, making sure he heard every word. 

Your other cheek was next and you bit down hard on your lip when the smack came. 

“Two.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

When the third crack! came, you couldn’t help but jerk your hips away. 

“Three.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

The smacks continued and with each one, your reactions grew less controlled as you warred between pain, arousal, the instinct to avoid the cause of the pain, the hunger for the pleasure that followed the pain, and the burning desire to be good for Seokjin. After each and every one, he would rub the reddening skin to prepare you for the next. 

“Ten.”

By this point, his free hand was holding onto your waist to keep you from writhing away from the belt. Every hit hurt so good and your head was spinning from the white-hot arousal that had been clouding your mind from the first smack. 

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you asked through clenched teeth as tears began to blur your vision. 

The next one was particularly harsh and you were unable to hold back a whimper. As soon as it left you, you wanted to kick yourself for breaking his rule so easily. You were better than that. You were better for him than that. 

“Looks like we’re gonna have to add another one for that,” he sighed, the disappointment clear in his tone and dropped your head as you felt a tear escape the corner of your eye. You wanted to be good for him. “Good little sluts take their punishment quietly. Disobedient whores don’t. Which one are you going to be, baby girl?”

“I’ll be a good little slut, sir,” you quickly answered, sniffling softly with shame. “I’m sorry, sir. M-may I please have another?”

Unable to see him, you missed his satisfied grin at your eager submission. You could be as strong-willed as you wanted in your relationship and he would always go along with it because he knew that in the bedroom, he had your total and complete submission.

Crack!

“Twelve.”

The tears continued to fall and your pussy continued to drip.

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

When you reached sixteen, your hands gave out beneath you and you fell to your elbows. You were panting heavily and sweat was beading your temples. It looked like you had just finished running a marathon.

Crack!

“Seventeen.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you asked through your tears. Only four more. You could handle four more. Your ass felt like it was on fire. You could only imagine how red it had turned and you wondered if any marks would be left behind. God, you hoped so. 

Crack!

It took everything in you to hold in your scream as the belt landed on the as of yet untouched backs of your upper thighs. 

“Eighteen.” 

“T-thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you whimpered. 

The next two came in quick succession, one on each cheek, rushing you onto the last smack before you could register the pain between nineteen and twenty. And when the final crack! came, it was the most brutal one yet. 

“Your last one, baby girl,” he told you before bringing the belt down and you could hear how slightly winded he sounded. It seemed he was more affected than he would have you believe. 

Crack!

You couldn’t hold back a cry as the leather came down with a hard smack where your ass met your upper thighs, and consequently, right across your soaked folds. 

“Twenty-one,” you heard through the pain and even as distracted as you were by your painfully stinging skin, your response was automatic.

“T-thank you, sir. P-please m-may I have another?” you sobbed, burying your tear-stained face in the duvet. 

“Shhh, baby girl,” he said, his voice fractionally softer as he rubbed your lower back. “You took your punishment so well.”

“B-but I was bad. I broke the rule,” you sniffled through your tears, remembering the way you had cried out at the last hit. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked down at your prostrated form and grinned at how well-behaved you were for him. He had been planning to be merciful and let that last one slide. 

“Are you asking for another one, baby girl?”

You eagerly nodded your head against the mattress. 

“G-good little sluts take their punishment quietly. I’ll be good for you, sir. I p-promise,” you pleaded and he felt like the luckiest man on earth to have you on your knees and begging him to be spanked. 

Crack!

The hit left you breathless and you were thankful because in doing so, it also left you silent. 

“Twenty-two.” 

You heard him drop the belt to the floor, signaling that your punishment was truly over. 

“Th-thank you, sir,” you whimpered.

“You’re such a good little slut,” he told you as he soothed the tender and heated skin of your ass with both of his hands. “Always such a good girl for me.”

You preened beneath him at the praise. 

“Do you know what good little sluts get?” he asked and hope flared in your chest. One of his hands slowly began to trail down your asscheek, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin as he did so. “They get rewarded.”

He emphasized his words by swiping his thumb in one long stroke from your clit to your entrance and you gasped as you clutched the duvet between your fingers. After being so on edge during your punishment, that one drop of pleasure had the walls of your pussy clenching tightly around nothing. 

“Well, baby girl?” he asked and you could feel his breath right against your soaked folds. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He moved his hands to the backs of your thighs and pushed them further apart, granting him better access to your cunt. 

“Yes, sir,” you answered, and then suddenly his pillowy lips were wrapped around your clit, giving the swollen bundle of nerves a harsh suck that had you seeing stars. Your resulting moan complied with Seokjin’s second rule — silence unless spoken to during your punishments and anything but silence during your rewards.

His tongue flicked against your clit before he gave your folds a long lick from top to bottom, dipping inside your entrance as he went. And then his lips were back on your clit, the obscene sucking sound filling your bedroom and turning you on further. 

You began to instinctively rock your hips back and forth to meet his heavenly tongue but were held in place by the tight grip he had on your thighs. As usual, you were at the mercy of his generosity. 

But from the way he alternated perfectly between harsh sucks and light flicks, he seemed to be in a very generous mood and it wasn’t long before you were on the verge of your climax. 

“P-please sir, can I come?” you asked breathlessly and you hoped that tonight his generosity extended to your orgasms. It would be far from the first time that he had brought you right to the edge only to leave you hanging. 

He hummed around your clit, pleased that you remembered to ask — although really, how could you ever forget? The first and only time that you had come without his permission, he had forced out so many orgasms from you that you were afraid your clit was going to go numb forever from the excruciating pleasure. You had been sure to never let it happen again. 

“Come, baby girl,” he said and the words were like music to your ears. 

The knot that had slowly been tightening since before the first hit of his belt to your ass rapidly untwisted and overwhelming pleasure coursed through your body. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet and your eyes screwed tightly shut as you moaned loudly. The empty walls of your cunt spasmed and Seokjin had a front-row seat to the sight. He continued to flick your clit with his tongue, milking your orgasm for all it was worth. 

Finally, when the pleasure began to recede and the ability to speak came back to you, you remembered your manners.

“Th-thank you, sir,” you panted. 

But he ignored you and went right back to sucking your clit, somehow managing to do so even harsher than before. The oversensitivity was immediate and you tried to pull your hips away from his lips with a cry, but the moment he felt you trying to wiggle away, his hold on your thighs grew tighter and you were sure his fingers would leave bruises. 

“Please, sir,” you cried, burying your face back into the duvet. 

Your plea fell on deaf ears because he continued to torment your clit with his sinful lips and tongue. Soon, the oversensitivity began to be eclipsed by a bubbling sense of pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Behind your eyelids, your eyes rolled backward. Seokjin’s grip on you was no longer to keep you from pulling away, but was now to keep you from grinding back onto his face. 

He released one of your thighs and dragged his fingertips upwards until they were at the top of your left asscheek. He then scratched his blunt fingernails down your reddened and tender skin. You screamed and the pleasure was so intense and immediate It was like he had physically dragged you right to the precipe of your next orgasm. 

“P-please let me come, sir,” you begged, your voice nothing but a high-pitched whine. “Pl-please, sir. Please!”

“Come.”

The tension in your body snapped and you moaned loudly at the intense pleasure that was now blinding your vision. You could feel the way your walls were fluttering helplessly as you came. Seokjin’s hold on your thighs was the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto your stomach. He continued to lick at your clit, but he was doing so much gentler than earlier. These were licks intended to help you through your orgasm rather than prepare you for your next one. 

As you eventually came down from your high, his tongue against your pussy slowed until it stopped altogether. He then placed a kiss to the cheek of your ass, relishing your sharp inhale of pain at the sensation. 

You opened your mouth to thank him, but found that the words wouldn’t leave you until you cleared your throat. 

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered, turning your head to the side to rest your cheek and temple on the mattress as your breathing slowly began to return to something resembling normal. 

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” he said. Your eyelids fluttered open and from the corner of your eye, you could see him standing up behind you. 

You flinched away from him when you felt him trace a finger over your swollen clit and through your slick folds. He gave you a gentle but firm swat to one of your asscheeks in response to your movement. You sharply inhaled, but otherwise stayed perfectly still and silent. 

“You have no idea how good you look like this, with your ass red and your cum dripping down your thighs,” he mused. “And you’re all mine.”

Suddenly and without warning, he sank two fingers deep into your pussy and you cried out loudly at the intrusion. You turned your head back to bury your face into the mattress as your fingernails scratched uselessly at the duvet. He then began to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you and your arousal began to build all over again. 

It was only encouraged along when he curled his fingers expertly to rub right against the spot along your walls that he was intimately familiar with. Before the pleasure could grow too much, he slid his fingers out of you fully and you mewled pathetically at the loss. 

But your disappointment was shortlived because only a few moments later, you felt both of his hands grab tightly onto your hips and yank your lower-half backward to meet his crotch. You tried to jerk away from him with a pained gasp when the aching skin of your ass rubbed against the rough fabric of his jeans.

He was quick to shush you gently and slowly pulled your hips back into him, taking his time to ease you into the sensation. After letting you settle into the stinging pain, he ground his crotch against your ass and even through the sharp hiss you let out, you were still able to recognize the feeling of his hard cock through the denim. 

“You feel that, baby girl?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly tense as he continued to grind against you and you whimpered in response. “Feel how hard I am for you?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed and he shifted his hold on you so that he was now rubbing his cock right up against your once-again aching cunt, making you moan softly. 

“Do you think you’ve earned my cock yet?” Another thrust of his hips and another moan from your lips. 

“Yes, sir. Please, sir,” you moaned. 

“I think so, too. You’ve been a good girl for me,” he agreed and your heart soared at his words. He let go of your hips and then you heard the sound of his zipper. After a few more moments, one hand was back on your hip, holding you still as he used the other to guide the fat head of his cock to your cunt. “You took your punishment well and you made sure to ask for permission before coming. You’re always such a good little slut.”

He slid his cock along your drenched folds, leisurely circling the head around your clit and you gave another loud moan into the mattress before he dragged it back to your entrance. Very slowly, he inserted the bulbous tip of his cock until it was just barely inside of your warm and silky walls.

He gave you just a moment to grow accustomed to the stretch before he buried his thick cock fully into your depths with one smooth thrust that speared apart your walls and had you wailing beneath him. He groaned behind you and his grip tightened on your hips. With his thighs pressed right against your ass, you could still feel the rough fabric of his jeans and it only heightened your pleasure to know that he was still fully dressed while you were a naked mess before him. 

“Th-thank you, sir,” you gasped, tears forming again in the corner of your eyes at the stretch and he chuckled.

“Such a good little slut,” he groaned, unable to completely hide how affected he was by the way your cunt was clenching around him. He then withdrew his length until only the head of his cock was left inside of you before entering you with another hard thrust that had you sliding an inch or two forward on the bed.

He easily tugged you back into him. He then released one of your hips and buried his free hand in your hair, wrapping his fist around your strands and yanking them so that you were forced back onto your hands, your head pulled back until the base your skull was pressed between your shoulders. 

Now that you were in his desired position, he began a punishing rhythm. His cock pounded into you with each thrust and you keened loudly every time his cock split you apart. He was burying himself so deeply that you could practically feel him in the back of your throat. You were tempted to drop your head forward, only for him to sharply tug your hair to keep you from doing so every time you tried. 

The bedroom was filled with the wet sounds of his fat cock sliding in and out your dripping pussy, the slapping of skin against skin, and your loud and high-pitched moans as he managed to hit every single spot inside your cunt perfectly.

“Just remember, baby girl,” he warned, his pace not faltering once as he spoke. “You might be the boss outside of the bedroom, but who do you answer to in here?”

“Y-you, sir,” you answered without hesitation through your pleasure. With every thrust, his hips slammed into your tender ass and the stinging pain it caused helped push you closer and closer toward your third orgasm of the night.

“Who owns this pussy?” he asked.

“You do, sir,” you whimpered, the possessive question causing your cunt to clench hard around him.

“Louder,” he hissed, giving your hair another harsh yank and a particularly brutal thrust.

“You! My pussy is yours!” you screamed and he suddenly let go of your hair to bring the palm of his hand down hard against your ass. But you knew that this spank wasn’t to punish you — it was to satisfy him. 

With nothing left to keep you up, you collapsed forward once again, your fingers clutching desperately onto the duvet as your nipples rubbed back and forth against the fabric as he continued to pound into you. 

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your pussy is mine. You’re my little slut. You’re only good for me, aren’t you?”

“O-only you,” you gasped and your answer was enough to earn you your next reward because his fingers were suddenly on your clit. It was so sudden and combined so perfectly with the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls, that you found your orgasm almost thrust upon you.

The only thing keeping you from tumbling right over the edge and headfirst into pure white-hot pleasure were Seokjin’s rules that were ingrained into you.

“C-coming! P-please, sir!” you screamed.

“Come,” he grunted and you wailed.

Ecstacy rushed through your body and your vision turned white beath your tightly-shut eyelids. Your pussy began to spasm hard around his cock as his pace never faltered. Your earlier orgasms were nowhere near as strong as this one — they never were when you weren’t coming around him. 

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groaned, but even his words were only an afterthought on the edge of your consciousness as your body jerked wildly beneath him and he removed his fingers from your clit to wrap both hands around your hips so that he could continue to pound into you uninterrupted. 

His thrusts were beginning to turn wild, the rhythm growing rushed, a sign that he was close. 

“Fuck, your pussy’s perfect, baby girl,” he panted as you continued to clench around him, your orgasm still coursing through your body. “You’re so good for me. Only good for me. Love it when you come. Fucking perfect.” 

His mouth was running, his tight control slipping just slightly as his own orgasm was in sight. After another few rough thrusts later, the aftershocks of your climax still had your walls spasming around him torturously for each one, he slid out of you. No longer supporting your hips, your lower body collapsed as well, your stomach falling to rest on your thighs. The wet sound of his own hand pumping his cock filled the room and it was soon followed by a loud groan and you felt him coming across the heated skin of your ass and lower back in spurts. 

You heard him panting heavily and it matched your own breathing, which you were still struggling to regulate as your orgasm subsided. You slowly opened your eyes as the world righted itself and your racing heart finally began to slow down so that it no longer felt like it was about to jump out of your chest.

If you had had the energy, you would have jumped when you felt Seokjin’s finger trailing through the streaks of his cum across your skin. He let out a low whistle as he did so.

“Damn, you look good like this,” he hummed. You turned your head to the side to rest your cheek on the mattress and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pulling his shirt over his head before you felt him using it to gently and carefully wipe away his cum. “I told you I was an expert at pulling out.”

His call back to his dumb joke from your earlier fight made you smile and you couldn’t hold in an exhausted giggle. Once your skin was fully cleaned, he dropped his shirt to the floor to join the other articles of discarded clothing before leaning down and pressing two soft kisses to your ass — one on each cheek. 

You smiled at the gesture before he climbed onto the bed and dropped onto his back, his knees hanging off the side of the bed and his feet planted on the floor. He then tightly pulled you into his side, his arm slung securely across your shoulders. You buried your face in the side of his neck, the sweaty strands of his growing hair brushing against your nose and you happily sighed as you deeply breathed in his scent. 

“I fucking love you,” he said, releasing his own sigh of contentment as his fingers traced imaginary patterns on your upper arm. “You’re a queen among women.”

You laughed at the compliment that was characteristically Seokjin. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck as you curled up tighter into his side. Your thumb rubbed slow circles on his skin where your hand rested on his firm chest. 

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you as you enjoyed the shared intimacy between you. But as your thoughts began to wander, a frown formed on your lips.

“We didn’t pass the IKEA test,” you pouted, breaking the stillness of the moment. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked through a yawn. “The bed’s assembled and we’re still together. We passed.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t assemble it,” you insisted and he blew a raspberry in response.

“That’s a technicality.”

“But—”

“Just go with it,” he said, cutting you off before you could continue to argue and you closed your mouth. 

“Ok. We passed the test,” you conceded with a smile and he gave your shoulders an affectionate squeeze. 

As you nuzzled your face into his neck, your nose twitched at the way his lengthy strands ticked your face. 

“Your hair’s getting long,” you mused and he sighed at the observation.

“I know. I need to cut it,” he said and your reply was immediate, the demand clear in your tone.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” you told him and he let out an amused huff.

“Yes, boss.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “To Deep Space.”

I am finished with university, had my last final yesterday, so we will be moving back to the normal writing schedule, yay! 

I have no idea where this arc is going tbh, but it is going to be good and I am excited. I hope you guys will enjoy it as well! 

“Dr. Adric, Dr. Adric please report to the bridge.”

He stepped from his office wondering what they could possibly need him for there. He had just been trying to get his office situated when the call came out. He set down his papers on the desk and made his way into the ship looking around as he made his tentative way towards the bridge. The ship was roomier than he thought it might be, but still rather small, he wondered how that affected the people on the ship.

He knew that they had to keep plants aboard the ship for the crew’s mental health, but he honestly wondered how much that help. Overhead he was assured the lights were UV in nature to mimic the sun and stave off depression after long months of being trapped inside a metal tin can hurtling through space. Not one was really sure what the effects of deep space on a person.

They knew that being lost in space could result in mass hysteria as demonstrated by the Commander’s own crew and malfunctioned civilian transport, the likes of which had apparently driven themselves to cannibalism in their panic and confusion.

He had read the reports, it was both disgusting and fascinating.

He paused just inside the bridge turning to stare with wide eyed at the men and women positioned at their consuls arrayed in a semicircular pattern against the outside edge of the room. A second tier comprised another smaller set of consoles for about four people, and just above that was a single raised chair.

The captain’s seat.

The room had been designed with both hierarchy and function in mind in that the captain’s chair could look down on all the other chairs with the ability to see what his crew was doing at all times.

And right now they were prepping for launch.

“Engines.”

“Engine one through six online and reporting no malfunctioning cells Commander.”

“Check them one more time. Crew manifest.”

“Four hundred and eighty six confirmed crewmen, sir.”

“What does the manifest say?”

“The same.”

Dr Adric tilted his head watching as the crew worked, but specifically watching the commander. The man spun this way and that, giving orders, taking information, and all the while making quick check-marks in a little black book he held in one hand. He seemed at east in his chair.

The chief weapons officer, the Drev named Sunny, sat at her station despite not really needing her at the moment, and he could see over her shoulder that she was also doing a weapons check for the ship.

The commander turned in his chair spotting the doctor and motioning him over.

He came confused not sure what he would be needed for.

“Commander?”

The man smiled, an expression that fit well on his face. Despite his youth, the doctor could already see laugh lines, faint and barely visible beginning to form around his eyes…. This was a man used to smiling.

“Take a seat doctor, and strap yourself in. This will be an uncomfortable assent.”

“What do you mean?” He wondered in confusion.

“I generally let all new recruits sit on the bridge for at least one launch or warp. I feel it makes the experience real for them instead of just expecting them to use their imagination. Besides, who doesn’t want to watch a ship launch.”

He was a bit surprised but of course he nodded walking over to the indicated seats and strapping himself in with the five point harness. He continued to watch the crew work. The bridge itself seemed to run rather smoothly under the direction of the commander, and from what he could tell the crew seemed very excited to be off.

“Engines ready, commander.”

“Fuel cells engaged.”

Commander Vir reached for his microphone broadcasting his voice throughout the ship, “Alright you beautiful hooligans launch begins in T minus one minute. Please strap yourself and any loose items down and keep your hands and feet inside the ship for the duration of the ride.” He cut off his mic smiling.

Dr Adric watched closely.

“Ground control this is Harbinger preparing to liftoff in T minus 55, do you copy.”

“Copy harbinger. Launch is ready for go standby on grid line trajectory Alpha two niner one one preparing for liftoff over.”

“Thirty seconds.”

He gripped the seatbelt hard teeth gritted watching as the rest of the crew braced themselves as well. The commander flexed his hands sliding his fingers into the flight gloves and hooking his toes onto the pedals. The holographic shield popped up to cover his eyes.

“launch in 10, 9 ,8, 7, 6, 5.”

He gripped tighter.

“4, 3, 2, 1, “

“Launch.”

The force of the rising ship slammed him back into his seat as they were born skyward. All around them the ship seemed to vibrate and rattle. His chest felt like it had a carton of bricks stacked on top of it and a little black circle was beginning to encroach at the edges of his vision.

Somewhere, someone in the room was cheering. Past his vibrating eyes, he could see the commander valiantly fighting to bring the ship into the sky despite it’s immense bulk which had never been designed for gravity. Eyes wide he watched as the eggshell blue of a perfect day morphed before them and grew darker until space stretched out before them like a pair of waiting arms.

“Prepare core for warp. Navigations.”

“Yes commander?”

“Warp Coarse.”

“Sagittarius A. But not to close! Keep to the coordinates the smart guys gave us” he repeated very suddenly looking very nervous all things told.

“What’s in Sagittarius A?” He wondered

The commander turned in his chair one eyebrow raised looking almost incredulous, “you don’t know?”

The rest of the crew shifted very nervously, he could see it on them though there were hints of excitement.”

He shook his head.

“Our primary directive on this ship is deep space exploration. We are a military vessel, but we hold trillions of dollars in scientific equipment aboard this ship, as such we have been tasked by the UNSC in accordance with the NASA foundation to head to Sagittarius A and take the first close space images of the supermassive black hole at the center of the milky way.”

He felt his hands and feet go suddenly cold.

“B but how can you take a picture of something that sucks in light.”

“The accretion disk of course and then the massive black spot at the middle.”

“But if we get to close….”

“Yes yes doctor, I have been flying in space long enough to know what happens if you run amuck of a black hole. We get sucked in and suspended forever in a slow spiral of doom as time slows down and our bodies are slowly ripped apart atom by atom. Please we aren’t getting THAT close. Even I’m pissing myself just thinking about it, but also super excited to be honest. No mess ups this time which is why the ship has been checked to hell and back to make sure it’s working.”

Not for the first time, he was beginning to wonder if he was psychologically stable enough to be on this mission as it seemed you hat to be just a little crazy to want to do this. Maybe that is why a high percentage of people on the ship had presented with psychological anomalies, least of all the commander himself.

How he hadn’t gone mad with fear regarding the eminent death that surrounded them constantly was a mystery.

“Warp core?”

“Ready for ignition sir.”

“How far out are we.”

“Almost to the warp zone sir,”

Dr Adric rubbed his temples. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see a black hole. What kind of psychological effects does something that powerful have on someone, knowing that if you are caught in its gravity well you are done for in the most horrible way possible, and just looking at it from a distance he imagined would be like watching a bear or tiger out in the wild accept for this was different since the bear could now swallow stares whole and the tiger ad gravity so immense that not even light can escape it’s center.

“Preparing for warp in ten.”

He closed his eyes

But they didn’t stay closed as the countdown continued opening for a moment as he felt the space around him go strange. When he did he nearly lost it as his vision seemed to be looking through a glass fish bowl all warped out to the sides and stretched, far things looking close, close things looking far. Outside the window a massive spot appeared before him and around it the stars were morphing and repeating.

The ship reflected back a thousand times in fractal images.

He yelled in shock clenching his seat, and then, it was over.

He was breathing hard, outside there was nothing but blackness, and the emergency lights had flicked on over the crew.

The captain unbuckled his seat-belt and stepped down onto the floor.

He turned to look at Adric who was gripping the seat so hard his knuckles had gone white, “Nice work, first time I warped I definitely pissed myself so, good constitution.” He patted Adric on the shoulder. The blue Drev stood, and the commander grabbed her by the shoulder hauling himself up onto her back.

Adric watched as the two of them walked away.

How strange.

He was in for seeing a lot of strange things in the next few days. The commander and the blue drev spent a lot of time together, and often he rode on her back. At one point he walked in on the crew having a jousting contest where two drev ran full tilt at the other while the two crewmen brandished brooms.

He walked out of his room more than once to find the commander heelieing down the hall at the head of the bridge crew giving orders.

When that wasn’t happening he had run amuck of a freaky group of spider creatures being taken care of by a dog and a very strange humanoid creature who claimed he could read minds. He hadn’t believed it until it started repeating his inner thoughts back to himself.

Instead of being freaked out he found himself almost envious. If he had that kind of power imagine the sort of things he could do to help his patients.

Everywhere he went it seemed as if something strange was happening.

One day they were playing an aggressive game of keep the balloon off the floor and the next they were using window markers to drawn on the viewing field. As expected from a group of soldiers it turned into a heard of inappropriate doodles until it looked as if their ship was cruising past a heard of winged space dicks.

And he himself kept a close eye on the crew. None of them seemed bothered by the fact they were in deep space, but many of them had strange habits.

The commander and the Drev named Sunny spent an excessive amount of time together, or so he thought, the little doctor never relaxed, and couldn’t to save his life even when he tried. Conn, the mind reader, did his best to get attention by pissing everyone off, and the spiderlings, as he had come to know them, were constantly acting up as well.

He would need more time to get used to the crew, but it seemed as if he had his work cut out for him.

If he could hold himself together that is.

[jellyfish-barber]

Young Doppelgangers in the Derry Hospital

TW; blood, hospital, non-graphic injury, paranoia, homophobia ment.

Syd dragged their friend Stanley firmly by the sleeve of their flannel. “I can’t believe you did that, Stan, we’re in the middle of fucking no-where, in a little, shitty, run down town and you think that putting the moves on the most outrageously hick-looking guy was a good idea?” “He looked like he needed someone to piss him off-” Stanley managed, blood dripping down his chin, he cupped his hand below it, the other hand on his eye. “No! No, he really didn’t actually.” Stan merely snorted, accidentally spitting blood ahead of them. A nurse directed them to sit outside the 4th floor desk, so Sydney pulled Stan into the elevator, who stumbled awkwardly behind them.

“Hold it! Hold the door!” Someone shouted. Syd let go of Stanley and pressed the button that held the door open, while Stan simultaneously clamoured over to shove their arm in the elevator doorway. “Thanks kids,” the man huffed and puffed, leaning against the elevator wall as he made it in. “Don’t call us k-” “Is that Richie Toz-” Stan wiped his lip and flinched as the fibers of their flannel scraped their busted lip. “Are you Richie Tozier?” Richie went stiff and adjusted his glasses to look at the young adults. “Uh, haha, I get that a lot… Yeah- I’m Richie Tozier. You are?” He stared at the two warily and rubbed his eyes.

Syd became visibly uneasy, the man was staring at them and it was blatant. “T-that’s so cool!” Stan stammered, patting their pockets, disheveled. They fished out their flask and shrugged half-heartedly “Good enough I guess, can you sign this?” Richie eyed the flask and Syd rolled their eyes. “Sorry, don’t have a pen right now. Hey-” He turned to Syd, “Has anyone ever said you look like Bev Marsh?” Stan immediately burst into a little snicker. Syd bit back a groan, “Yeah, I’ve definitely heard it before,”

“...Well have you ever met her?” 

“Well, no, obviously not.” 

“Want to?” 

“What?”

DING.

They were on the third floor.

Before Sydney could answer the comedian he shouted into the hallway abruptly. “BEVERLY C’MERE!” Syd went stiff, Stan stopped laughing, they both slunk rigidly off of the elevator behind Tozier. And as if they were in some weird, poorly written fanfiction, there was Beverly Marsh, scrambling out of a hospital room. A nurse hushed Richie but he quickly waved her off, running over to Bev, bouncing from his heels to his toes and pointing at the two he had discovered in the elevator. She stopped in her tracks, eyeing them with the same intensity Richie had in the elevator.

Stan gave a tone-deaf, flailing wave and approached them with his non-bloody hand extended. “Hi! Stanley Barb--” “Stanley? Your name is Stanley?” Beverly echoed over them. She then looked up and down incredulously, as if she doubted their name was Stanley. “W-wellll yess?” Bev gently took their hand and shook it, looking back to Richie, Stan couldn't read her expression. “Interesting,” Beverly breathed out after a pause. Richie looked to Syd, beginning to wave them over. Syd made no response. Stan pulled away from Bev and held up a finger, prancing their happy-ass over to Syd again. “Novs? Earth to Novs. They’re nice, relax,” Stan muttered, placing a hand on their shoulder. Syd untensed briefly, but as Richie approached them, they went stiff again, grabbing Stan’s arm firmly. Suddenly, the nearby desk was completely overturned, papers flying everywhere. 

Stan consciously struggled not to bite their lip and began trying to catch the papers, leaving bloody smears on all of them. Richie jumped, scrambling back to Bev’s side. Beverly stared at Syd in a way that was less alarming, calm, knowing, almost. “Are you okay, honey?” Bev asked, taking a careful pace forward. Finally snapping out of it, Syd shoved their arms in their pocket, “I’m fine, and don’t call me that.” “Okay, okay, sorry,” Beverly continued to approach with more grace and gentleness to her then Richie could muster. “What happened to you?” she asked the frantic curly-headed boy? girl? person. Beverly shook her head awkwardly, she was still trying to rid herself of binary language and both of these people certainly were enforcing that. “I got in a little scrap but I’m fine!” Stan chirped back peppily which gained a gentle, scolding nudge from Syd’s shoe. “I’m a big fan by the way, of both of you,” Stan blurted. Beverly looked unconvinced but Richie offered a cheesy, awkward smile. “Thanks,” they responded in unison. 

“Y’know, not only do you look like me when I was younger,” the designer started, then turning back to Stan, “You look like our friend, Stanley Uris.” “Uris?” Stan echoed, chuckling slightly, “That’s an interesting last name it kinda sounds like Uri-” ”Urine! Right?” Richie blurted. Stanley grinned and nodded, “Yeah, Urine.” Beverly laughed and shook her head, “They’d hate that you immediately jumped to that,” “They?” Syd repeated, Bev simply nodded, looking a smidge nervous, “Did I do it right?” Sydney cracked a smile, instantly relaxing, “Yeah, you did it right, good job.” “Anyways!” Stanley spoke immediately after, wiping their lip again, “You said I look like someone? Because honestly, I’m not convinced.” Syd rolled their eyes as Bev held up her finger and ran back to the room she was in before. A nurse approached Stan immediately after they set all the now bloodied paperwork back on the desk. Syd had also collected items and paper while talking, and set theirs on top of Stan’s stack, hitting the bulk of it on the desk to straighten out. 

“Stanley Barber, right? Do you have insurance?” Barber went stiff and inhaled sharply. “No, no I don’t,” Richie perked up but kept his distance. Stanley started rummaging through their pockets. “I really just need someone to sew this up, the shiner is manageable. How much would that be, do you think?” The nurse raised a sympathetic brow and gently took Stan’s jaw, looking at their lip. “How much blood have you lost?” “Uh-” “A lot,” Syd answered, placing their hand gently on Stan’s back, noticing they were getting shaky. “You’ll probably need blood too,” “No, no, I’m totally okay I just need the stitches, hell give me the supplies and I’ll-” “I can cover their bill,” Richie blurted, pacing up with his hands shoved in his pockets. Stan jumped nearly out of their skin “Whoa dude you do not have to-” “No, no I got it, trust me I’ve got it.” The nurse simply shrugged, grabbing some bandaging to momentarily stunt the bleeding of Stanley’s lip and placing it there, “Okay, let me go get that paperwork.” “Holy shit, thank you so much thank you-” Stan spun around, lightly touching the bandage on their lip as a crowd of people piled out of the hospital room where Bev had entered. “No problemo dude I-” Richie looked back and smiled as his friends all filed in. Barber grabbed Syd’s arm, quickly becoming anxious and brushing their thumb over their corduroy. 

“Holy shit, Bev, you were right-” a taller, brunette man blurted. “I know, look at them!” Stan twitched uneasily, leaning into their friend. Syd bit their lip and crossed their arms, “Okay you don’t have to stare,” they snapped sharply. The group of older adults straightened up. “Can I ask your names?” another asked cautiously, his gentle brown eyes resting on the two. Syd decided he was safe. “I’m Mike Hanlon,” He said, lowering himself slightly and offering his hand to them. Syd shook it half-heartedly, Stan hesitantly followed. “Sydney Novak and Stanley Barber,” Syd said, thumbing at Stan when they introduced them. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m sorry this has to be overwhelming.”

Someone slammed into Stan’s back, making him yelp and accidentally jerk Syd forward too who quickly planted their feet. “Shuh-shoot, I’m sorry St-” They turned around, a sleep deprived man that Syd found vaguely familiar ogled at Stanley. “Stuh-Stan what happened to yuh-your-” “I got in a fight, do I know you?” Barber cut him off. The man’s face contorted in confusion, straightening up and crossing his arms, looking past them at Mike and the group. “Oh,” he muttered, “Wrong Stan. I’m sorry you juh-juh-just-” “Apparently look alot like them?” Stan interrupted again, gaining an exasperated groan from the man across from them, and a disciplinary elbow to the ribs from Syd. Bill looked to Syd and stared for a moment longer before looking back at his friends again, brows furrowed in confusion. Beverly walked up behind Stan, gently resting a hand on their shoulder which gained another anxious squawk. “Here, this is us as kids,” “Wait you were all friends?” Stanley asked, taking her phone gently. A fuzzy picture of a scanned in photo booth set.

Syd snapped out of focusing on the mess of a man in the flannel, still trying to remember why on earth he looked familiar. They looked over to the photo and their eyes went wide, that did look just like them and Stan. Though, Sydney noted, Stan would never wear clothes like that, too sensible. “Wow,” they muttered, “No, you were right I kinda get it now,” they said, in reference to the staring. Bill laughed awkwardly, turning to walk next to Beverly. “How is Stuh-stan doing?” Barber perked up slightly before remembering the situation, still staring at the images on the phone. “They said they’re feeling a bit better, taking a nap right now,” “Oh thu-they were uh-up already tuh-today?” The man sounded disappointed and shifted awkwardly in his timberlands. “Yeah, but I’m sure they’ll be up later, relax.” Bev gave a sympathetic pat that had a teasing undertone Syd picked up on easily. 

“This shit is crazy,” Stan muttered to Syd who nodded slowly. “I’d need to be a lot more high right now to not be freaked out.” They heard Beverly and Richie snort, then Richie returned to filling out that paperwork he had been handed at some point. “Dude,” Sydney slapped Stan’s arm gently, “Don’t talk about that here.” They glanced, embarrassed, up at the group of adults. The taller brunette made a ‘lips are sealed’ motion, Beverly snickered again. “I’m going to go sit with them,” Bill blurted and bolted into the nearby hospital room with urgency. Richie perked up, finishing the papers and turning them over to the nurse, “I should go check on Eds.”  Syd raised a brow, that name had not been mentioned. They looked back at the image on the phone, there was a kid who was piled onto the young Richie Tozier in the photo, Syd didn’t think it was anyone that was present. 

Stan fidgeted anxiously, picking at the cuticles, Syd popped their hand gently when noticing. “You two should keep in contact,” Beverly blurted, “Come visit once you're stitched up, okay? And be more careful next time.” “Yeah Stan,” Syd grinned. Stan crossed their arms, “Okay, thank you ma’am. Let me put my number in here,” they flicked through onto contacts and added themselves, “Text me and I’ll let you know when we’re done.” Bev nodded, taking back the phone. The nurse was waiting rather impatiently behind the young adults. Syd rolled their eyes and muttered a forced apology at the annoyed worker before they walked back for Stan to get their stitches.

[fenheart87]

manikin

Lukanette 2020 Exchange piece For @the-alice-of-hearts, enjoy! 

Marinette was on a mission,step outside of her comfort zone and again echoed by her technical design professor to be more daring and assertive and bold. She needed to round out her styles and portfolio as much as she could to make herself a more attractive candidate for any applications she submitted or even just expanding her online commissions and bulking her portfolio that way if she chose to start out on her own. It was difficult to just be set in one style and make it big when just starting. Mari figured that she would explore as much as she could before committing to one genre or style, it would keep her far from being burnt out like some of her fellow classmates.

“Hey Nathaniel! Have you seen Juleka?” She called out, walking a bit faster to the redhead who waited for her to join him.

“She was around this morning but I haven’t seen her since. Have you tried calling or texting her?”

“Yup, nothing but silence though. I’m out of touch with everyone’s schedules the more time goes by.”

“Is she complaining she can’t be super Mari and be our everyday ladybug again?” Marc teased, sneaking up and poking the shorter girl’s sides resulting in a squeal.

“Marc!” She smacked a red clad shoulder before they disappeared behind their boyfriend. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop making it so easy?” Nathaniel offered, smirking at Mari’s adorable pout.

“I hate you. I really do. Welp, if Juleka is busy and you’re both too shy to play model and dress up and have proof of it, I guess I need to find a model.”

“I’m pretty much free if you need a mannequin, class ends at three for me this week.” Marc offered kindly, green eyes peeping over Nathaniel’s shoulder.

“Oh wonderful! I found another sample fabric I wanted to try for you!” She did her jump and hip shimmy, ignoring the giggles.

“Only exception being Thursday, that’s date night this week.”

“Fine, have your boyfriend Marc on Thursday, I get your girlfriend Michelle the rest of the week. See you later!” Mari dashed away, giggling as the bright red spots on Marc’s cheeks.

After walking around campus and deciding against searching too far as she still had classes, she was no closer to finding her muse model but it did nothing to dampen her good mood. It was a sign that meant she would just have to explore the in and outs further and stay away from her usual haunts. Instead of using her eyes she decided to let her ears guide her, Marinette glanced around a few times and focused on conversations instead of what people were wearing, hearing the emotions in their voices. With the new mindset, carefully the young designer wandered around and sketched some expressions, new emotions to craft into fabric choices and color schemes to make them come alive as clothing to wear the emotion plain as day. There was a ton of laughter and giggles around her until she got closer to the library. The sound of a guitar drew her in like a sirens song.

Marinette needed a break from all the walking and climbing she had done so far and decided to stop by the library for the few books she had on hold. Skirting around the cliques that hugged the stairs more often than naught, the petite designer made her way into the library. Seeing Max working the check out desk, Marinette bee lined for him, smiling wide enough to crinkle eyes just slightly.

“Marinette, how are you today?” Max greeted, shuffling books around to scan them and write the names on the cards for the reserved items.

“I should have a few books on hold, all fashion related of course, there was one that was checked out but if you could see if it’s been returned?”

“Sure thing, book title, author or DEWY code?”

“There’s several, here’s my card.” Marinette held it out for Max to scan, rocking on heels slightly to a rhythm she could hear every time the door opened.

“Ah yes, you have five reserved and it looks like two have not been checked back on yet. Would you like me to check the return bin?” Max asked, finding the appropriate stack of books and setting them on the counter.

“Yes please, even if we can find one more that makes it easier to study and hopefully pass with flying colors.”

“Fashion has always been a huge part of you Marinette, as long as your heart is in it then you’ll pass with flying colors.” Max smiled at the rare blush on the young woman’s face, “I’ll check the returns for you, be right back.

Marinette breathed deeply to calm her sudden nerves, her friend’s unwavering faith in her abilities always managed to take the designer off guard but she wouldn’t change any of them for the world. While waiting, she filled out the cards for the books in the pile to make Max’s job easier but kept getting distracted by the wonderful music that kept sneaking through.

“I managed to find both luckily, if you could fill these out then you free to chase whatever has you so distracted.” The glint from his glasses made Marinette squeak in embarrassment as being caught.

“Thanks Max!” Quickly she stuffed the books in her backpack and marched at a reasonable pace to the door and only let out the breath she was holding once outside.

Students shuffled to and from the library, stopping to chat quietly or bask in the music for a moment before continuing their way. The solo guitarist was the center of attention, playing a mix of old and new songs. The overall genre seemed to be with the intent to soothe stressed students and teachers alike as they passed by, Marinette could feel herself relaxing and her creative block lifting. Deciding to obey her muse, the slim young woman snagged a bench that was being vacated by a couple who had finished their coffees. Unsure how much time had passed, the designer lost herself to the world of inspiration, completing outlines with notes and vague sketches with the knowledgeable experience telling her to be swift and flesh then out later.

The music had become a soft and sweet ballad, just hovering in the background for anyone to notice or ignore if they were passing by. Marinette took a quick glance at her outlines and notes, polishing little things or rewriting fabric choices, her eyes fell to the musician that she could finally see and she froze. This was exactly what she was looking for, his expression spoke of calm but hid the slight anxiety every time he started a new song. When he suddenly changed tunes and a couple stopped fighting because the music took over made his lips quirk in a faint grin. His clothes were made to blend in, ripped jeans and combat boots topped with a plain Jagged tee and lightweight layered Hoodie. That did absolutely nothing to help hide his hair with the blue tips, was that a tongue ring?! Marinette felt the need to sketch and design and she had to see what color his eyes were.

Swiftly but carefully she put away her supplies and made her way to the musician that was quietly packing away his guitar and removing the tips from his case. The designer caught his attention and when the weight of gaze met hers, Marinette just blurted out what came to mind.

“You’re hot, can I undress you?” With a squeak, she smacked her face with her sketchpad and took a few deep lungs full of air. “I’m sorry! I want your clothes- I just, you were playing and sound sexy- GOOD SOUND! I really like you- YOUR  style it’s mysterious but like nice- I really want to undress you- I mean I-!”

“Deep breaths.” His melodic voice cut through her anxiety like a hot knife to butter. “I’m Luka.”

“Ma-ma-Marinette!”

“Nice to meet your Ma-ma-Marinette. You’re an artist too?” He nodded causally to her sketchbook.

“Yes. Fashion designer. Project.” Few more deep breaths. “I need to branch out and try a new style and I usually create women’s clothes. So my professor told me to challenge myself and your music inspired me and when I looked at you, you’re perfect. That is- I mean, if you wouldn’t mind being my model?”

“So do I get to undress myself or is that your job?” Luka teased with a grin, causing Marinette to hide her face again with a squeak. “I have a crazy schedule but I’d love to help.”

“I have time on Tuesdays from two to five, Thursdays from five to seven and Saturdays after the morning rush so more like three or four to eight.” She rattled off, pulling out her planner to his amusement.

“Okay I’ll have to check my schedule, two of my classes are up in the air. How about we exchange phone numbers and then I can text you what’s my schedules going to look like? It changes week to week.”

“Most musicians do it seems, one of my best friends is a DJ and he takes all kinds of gigs so it’s hard to sit down and catch up.” They traded phones and saved their numbers before swapping back. “Some of this we can do via Skype if needed, you have to be comfortable with the design too and just wearing it to help my grade.”

“Seems like you’ve done this before.” Luka stuffed his phone into his pocket and packed away his guitar, shouldering his case.

“Fashion student, too broke for mannequins so I lure in unsuspecting folk with delicious free pastries from the best bakery in town.” She teased with a huge grin.

“Well then, I look forward to those pastries.”

Waving, they went their separate ways and Marinette had a skip in her step that had been missing due to the stress. Texting her other friends that were her usual models but this time with ideas of clothing to compliment the designs she had drafted for Luka. Everyone had a positive response and she had just enough people for a full collection, Marinette was sure to blow this project out of the water.

- - - 

Luka stared down at his phone with a smile. As far as first impressions go, he didn’t think negatively of Marinette. It was easy for the musician to recognize the spark of creativity making her blue bells shine and the dark circles the byproduct of sleepless nights from the muse keeping her awake to do her bidding. Her song was the dead giveaway, it was beautiful but unfinished with the crash of crescendos and decrescendos in spots, showing she was afraid to stay loud and bold.

“That had better not be another cat meme.” Juleka muttered, sliding into the booth across from him.

“Nope, I just got asked to undress for a pretty cute girl.”

“What girl wants to see you naked?”

“Not naked, she wants to dress me up.” Luka corrected, waving the waitress over so they could order. “Caramel cappuccino and one hot fudge vanilla shake.”

“Design student or art student?” Luka had no trouble hearing his sisters mumbles, even over the din of the coffee-shop.

“Design student, I guess she felt a good vibe with the music I was playing and she got bit by the creative bug.”

“Not the only one that got bit.” Juleka smiled innocently as the waitress set down their drink orders. “When’s your first fitting?”

“I don’t know, I told Marinette I would text her my schedule for the week once I figure it out.

"Well them, you had better bring me back an eclair and a chocolatine, try the macaroons.” With that cryptic advice, Juleka took her drink and left her brother confused. A ding from his phone had him opening a picture of a very familiar face forwarded from his sister.

Is this the ‘go get em tiger high-five from you?

You hurt her and you’ll answer to your future sister-in-law.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

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[mancavecloset]

The Waterpark, Part 2

Part 1

...

The four of us hadn’t been on the road more than an hour by the time I noticed Kyle and Josh had begun to read restaurant signs aloud as we passed them on the highway. The PB&J sandwiches, the chips, and the cookies were all ancient history by this point, and I got the sense that Kyle and Josh were itching to eat something else.

“I really want to make sure we have enough time in the park,” I said wearily, “But would y’all want to stop for… uh, well we already had breakfast, so… brunch?”

A chorus of “YES!” resounded from all angles of the car.

I rolled my eyes. I was used to putting a decent amount of food away during swim season, but these guys seemed to have hollow legs. I had been the least greedy when it came to the food, only eating a single PB&J, no chips, and just two cookies. Still, I wasn’t the least bit hungry, and frankly I was a bit surprised and turned on by the fact that it was only 10am and all of my friends were ravished despite sharing 11 sandwiches, 22 cookies, and a family size bag of chips between themselves.

“I do need to get gas soon,” I remarked. “Next exit with a gas station, we can stop for a quick bite.”

A few miles later, I pulled off and filled my tank. Josh graciously threw me some cash that covered about half of the gas money, and Kyle offered to cover my meal, with one caveat.

“… but dude, we have to go to Cracker Barrel,” Kyle remarked, pointing across the highway at its 50-foot tall sign.

“That’s not exactly fast,” I replied. But the quick reinforcement of support for the idea from Josh and Sam left me no choice.

“Fine,” I sighed, slightly annoyed that we would probably be pushing noon until we arrived at the waterpark. “Let’s make it quick though.”

---

We filed into the restaurant, Josh leading the way. I followed behind him, watching the ripples in his shoulders that jutted out from his tank top. My eyes wandered down to his muscular ass, which strained against his shorts. I slowed my pace, letting Sam also walk in front of me. Somehow, despite going to the gym far less frequently than Josh, and being a good 9” shorter than him, his ass looked even more impressive despite his baggy shorts, dancing as he walked like two tussling melons.

Kyle brought up the rear, and as he entered the dining area I once again caught his shirt riding up towards his bellybutton, showcasing his broadening stomach and wiggly love handles.

We sat down at the table and quickly looked at the menu. I wondered if I would get anything, but decided that since we were eating now, I might as well keep myself full so that we didn’t have to eat as soon as we got in the park.

I planned to order two eggs and some hashbrowns to go with my much-needed coffee, opting not to add any breakfast meats or toast, since I knew I’d never be able to finish them. My friends, however, seemed to have different plans.

“Dude I forgot how cheap the food is here!” Josh exclaimed excitedly.

“For real,” Sam chimed in.

Kyle, belly rolls resting inches from the edge of the table, nodded in agreement as he intently studied the menu. “Yeah, I can’t decide between the country boy platter or the pancake breakfast, so I might just get both since it’s so cheap. I can just heat up the leftovers tomorrow morning.”

I tried to mention that we had plenty of food packed and wasn’t sure there was a microwave, but Sam cut me off. “Oh shit, those both do look good. Smart.” I noticed him smirk just a tiny bit out of the corner of his mouth.

So Kyle ended up ordering two of the biggest meals that the restaurant had to offer, throwing in a side of bacon “for the table.” Josh ordered the country boy platter and also added a short stack of pancakes.

“I might as well carbo-load since we’re going to be running and hiking around the next two days, and I might sneak a workout in tonight anyways,” he reasoned.

We all rolled our eyes jokingly at him. So like Josh to bring up working out any chance he could. But Josh had a big appetite and fast metabolism, and he was probably right: the day at the waterpark combined with the hike we had planned tomorrow would probably erase a few thousand calories, not even accounting for this so-called “workout.”

Sam surprised me, also ordering the large, 1300-calorie platter. I figured he would have gone for something smaller since he had already had breakfast, two sandwiches, and a handful of cookies, but apparently he was also as ravenous as Josh and Kyle.

When I ordered my food, Kyle chided me. “Micah, just cause I’m paying for yours doesn’t mean you have to get the tiniest, cheapest thing on the menu.” He turned to the waitress, “He will also have a side of sausage.”

I lightly protested that I wasn’t hungry, but Kyle was having none of it.

“You came one slice short of beating Josh and I in the pizza eating contest at Cici’s, I know you’re hungrier than that.”

He was right about the contest, but he also failed to account that it had occurred in the winter, after an especially draining swim practice. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to make too big a show of not eating a lot, considering everyone else was pretty much pigging out.

I shrugged at the waitress and said, “I guess I’m having a side of sausage too.” I didn’t even bother asking her to hold the toast, figuring Kyle would badger me even further.

The meals came, and I nibbled on my hash browns and over medium eggs while taking in the sight of the three men across the table from me. They all attacked their food like it was the first thing they had eaten in 30 hours, when in reality it had been about 30 minutes.

Kyle’s two huge platters of food disappeared at a crazy rate. I noticed that as he ate through the pile of eggs, the mound of hash brown casserole, generous saucer of fried apples, slabs of country ham, two large golden biscuits topped with thick gravy, four pieces of toast, four thick dinner-plate size pancakes, and laughably small fruit cup, his stomach inched ever closer to the edge of the table. The plate of bacon, supposedly for said table, ended up consumed solely by Kyle as well. During it all, I watched his jiggly rolls dance under his shirt climb higher and closer as he shoveled forkful after forkful. As he neared empty-plate status, his shirt painted itself against the top arc of his belly, forming creases where his expanding belly rolls hugged against each other.

He started to slow down with about a third of the second platter remaining. By then, Josh had finished his food and patted his now slightly-distended abs in satisfaction. Sam seemed to have finished too, sipping intently on his coffee as he watched Kyle try to finish his immense meal. We all cheered him on, and when I mentioned that I wasn’t sure that the cabin had a microwave, it provided the fire he needed to power through the final remnants of the plate.

As he sat back in his chair, his jelly rolls morphed into a round arc, poking hilariously far out underneath his meaty moob-pecs and rounding down towards his straining belt. He reached down and loosened the belt a notch, leaving his pants button undone, which just gave his gut more room to expand outwards. He looked proud and stuffed.

“Fuck,” he said. “That was really good. Thank God I’m bulking.” He chuckled lightly. “Josh, I want to make sure I put this to good use, so maybe I’ll join you for that workout tonight.”

Josh nodded in agreement. Kyle stood up to go take a leak, and he had to brace himself on the table to do so. As he leaned forward, the gut rocked back and forth in his shirt like a cannonball on a sling. As he stood straight, it was clear just one belt notch looser was probably a temporary fix, as his belly poked out from below his shirt and formed a dramatic muffin top. His spare tire wrapped from one love handle to the other, hanging lowest in the center of his belly and covering about half of his belt buckle. The overhang was slight but undeniable, and made my cock leap in my underwear. As Kyle walked away toward the bathroom, his noticeably wider ass strained against the fabric of his incredibly tight olive khaki shorts.

Sam turned to me. “Micah, you really only halfway done? Wasn’t it you who wanted to get out of here quick?”

“I really wasn’t all that hungry.”

“Dude, if you never bulk, you’ll always be Lank,” Josh chimed in. Normally, the teasing remark would have bothered me enough to chow down more, but I was full.

“That may have worked in getting me to suffocate on pizza at Cicis, but I truly cannot eat more,” I said back. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t really get hungry while driving.” Or I’m not a huge human who lives in the gym and needs 8,000 calories a day to get ripped, I thought to myself.

“Not me,” Sam said, “I always get hungry on car rides.” He surprised me and asked if he could have the rest. “You know, since there might not be microwaves?”

“Go for it man,” I said, somewhat surprised, and pushed him my plate.

“Look at Sam-boy over here with the studly appetite. You’ve bulked up, haven’t you?” Josh goaded, reaching over and squeezing Sam’s bicep and shoulder.

“Yeah man, YogaFit has been really hitting the strength training stuff this summer and I mean, I guess I’m filling out finally,” Sam said confidently. The affirmation from his much-taller, muscular friend clearly boosting confidence.

“Better watch out, M, you’re going to be the only one of us that isn’t stacked soon,” Josh said, turning to me with a playful double-eyebrow raise.

I tried to hide how much the comment hurt. It sucked to see Josh slip back into his douchier self, but with Kyle in the bathroom, maybe he felt insecure. He knew Sam and I had grown closer this summer and that he and I had barely spoken. Without Kyle, we has kind of the odd man out. So I laughed it off.

Besides, I was still very aroused and very intrigued by how much Sam had been eating thus far. I began to notice how much he was filling out in the chest and shoulders. His biceps definitely did look more prominent, and even the muscles in his neck gave his once-boyish features a more manly look. Josh may have had a point about Sam getting bigger. Despite being a solid 6” taller than him and historically, about 30-35 lbs heavier, I surmised that with Sams newfound “man-body,” I probably only had about 15 lbs on him anymore. My eyes traveled down to a little belly poking against the fabric of his snug white shirt. Maybe only 10, I thought, cock stirring once more.

Still, the extra heft was probably a welcome sight for the slight-framed Sam. He had always had boyish facial features and had never really been able to put on weight, so filling out probably correlated with looking more grown-up. Regardless, he definitely had the start of a little belly on top of the new muscle, and I was interested in it.

Sam scooped up the last of my egg and sausage with a piece of my toast, and patted his tummy after his final bite. I made sure to walk behind him as I tried to determine if his recent ‘gains’ extended to his ass, but the baggy shorts made it tough to really gauge.

We cashed out and piled back into the car. A few miles into the drive, I checked my phone’s GPS.

“Good news – we’re just over a half-hour away!” I chirped excitedly. “We will be on a waterslide by noon!”

“Are we going to stop by the cabin first to drop the coolers off and change?” Kyle asked.

“Well check in isn’t until 4, and the coolers have plenty of ice, so we can just go straight into the park and then take a break when its time for check-in,” I answered. “And they have changing rooms in the park.”

“Oh ok sweet,” Kyle replied, going back to whatever game he was playing on his phone.

As I tapped my fingers to the beat of the alternative music playing loudly in the car, the circumstances of what I just told Kyle began to sink in. The first thing we’d be doing in the waterpark would be changing into our swim trunks. In the same room. The thought of the four of us naked together teased my dick into attention yet again. I was equally nervous and excited at the possibility of catching a glimpse of any of my friends in the changing room, especially after all the weight they each seemed to amass that summer.

At 11:30, we pulled out of dense forested road and into view of the waterpark’s entrance gates. Behind them, colorful waterslides covered the front side of the slope of a mountain, woven between bare spots of land – presumably ski paths for the winter months. We had arrived.

“Lets get wet boys!” Sam hollered from the back seat. We all let out a whoop in response and piled out of the car. We gathered our drawstring bags and marched through the parking lot, up to the park’s gates.

___

Because it was a weekday, the crowd was light, which was awesome because it meant no long waits for any of the slides. It was also awesome, because when we got into the changing area, we were the only four people in the entire room.

Josh led the pack into the room and turned right, into a row of benches and lockers that dead-ended about 20 feet in. Kyle and then Sam followed suit, which left me on the end of the row. Everyone kind of stared straight ahead into their lockers as we started to open our drawstring bags and pull out our swimsuits and towels. Out of the corner of my eye, I waited for someone to start changing, but realized I was the first. As I slid off my shorts and balled them up to throw into my bag, Josh spoke up.

“Woah guys, look at this!”

Everyone turned to see what Josh was talking about. There he stood, facing us, athletic shorts pulled halfway down his thighs. He was still wearing his Under Armour boxer briefs, but the fly was gaped open. His cock hung soft and thick through the fly, and flopped five or six inches below the opening to meet the waistband of his mid-thigh athletic shorts. Even soft, it was a big penis… borderline huge. It had definitely gotten bigger since the last time I’d seen it. Three years ago, Paisley had talked about it being north of seven inches hard, and that was back when his soft cock was smaller than I was seeing in front of me now. Hell, it was most of the way to seven inches even in its flaccid state. His expression turned upwards into an evil grin as he rocked his hips side to side, sending his dick flying around like an elephant trunk.

“Nice,” Sam deadpanned sarcastically, turning back to his locker. Kyle chuckled and then did the same.

I, on the other hand, found myself staring at the pendulous swing of Josh’s impressive cock for a second too long. A large central vein ran down the thick, smooth shaft, and his bulbous mushroom head hung low, flopping against the fabric of his athletic shorts.

When my gaze shifted upwards, I caught Josh’s eyes fixed back on mine. Still smirking, he bounced his eyebrows upward at me. Trying not to look guilty, I puffed air out my nose and rolled my eyes at him before turning back towards my locker. I tried to will my cock soft as I slipped off my underwear, settling for a half-chub that wasn’t entirely obvious. I quickly wriggled into my tangerine-colored swim trunks, not daring to steal more glances to my right. I was terrified of getting caught looking again.

As I slid my shorts and underwear into my bag, I heard Kyle making annoyed huffs and grunts to my right. Sam, who was midway through pulling off his athletic shorts, turned at the same time I did to ask what was wrong.

“These… fucking… shorts…” Kyle grumbled, trying to force the Velcro of his swim trunks to meet under his overhanging belly, which poked out from underneath his hiked-up shirt. The shirt was pulled up, perhaps for Kyle to see his shorts, a few inches above his belly button, where the round arc of his belly started to curve back towards his pecs. “… they must have shrunk when my mom washed them.”

“I don’t thi…” I started, but Josh cut me off.

“It’s all the GAINS man! Your glutes, your core, your lower back. Everything’s thicker now, man. Here, inhale your chest,” he said as he grabbed the two ends of waistband that constituted Kyle’s maroon floral swim trunks. The two Velcro strips were about 6 inches apart from each other, but they might as well have been a mile because there was no way they’d ever meet under current circumstances: separated by a long berth of overhanging gut. Still, Kyle did as he was told as Josh, now in just his boxer briefs and tank top, spun Kyle towards himself and tried to yank the two pieces of fabric together, chiseled arms rippling with exertion.

Kyle’s backside faced towards Sam and I as Josh tried to will the Velcro strips to meet below Kyle’s belly. What we saw was a good two or three inches of pure love handle spilling over the waistband of Kyle’s swim trunks, in every direction. Below the love handles sprouted a wide, jiggly butt that strained against the seams of the two-year-old swim trunks. Even Kyle’s meaty thighs filled out the pant holes nearly the whole way, where they finally opened up above his knees.

“Got it!” Josh exclaimed, pressing the two ends of the fly into eachother as Kyle still strained to suck in his gut. I was impressed that he managed to get it fastened at all, but his unlikely victory was quickly nullified as Kyle exhaled. The shorts flung back apart with a loud brrrrap, and Kyle’s exhaled gut crashed back down, splitting the Velcro fly once more.

“Fuck,” Kyle said.

“I have an idea,” Sam interjected, thrusting his loose athletic shorts to the ground and kicking them into his locker. This left just his powder blue Calvin boxers, and his bubbly ass jutted out from underneath their waistband, further than I’d ever seen.

I didn’t get to look long though, because Sam jumped over the bench and next to Josh. “You pull, I’ll tie,” Sam directed Josh. As Josh strained to pull Kyle’s shorts back together, Sam grabbed the laces, yanking them towards each other and weaving them across the other, before pulling the strings tight enough for Josh to marry up the Velcro. Sam double-knotted the laces and clapped one of Kyle’s love handles. “There ya go bud.”

The result was almost comical. Kyle’s swim trunks, which he had bought the summer after sophomore year when he weighed a trimmer 190 lbs, encased his lower body like a sausage. There wasn’t a free centimeter of space anywhere in the shorts. In the front, his exhalation lowered his overhanging gut to cover the entirety of the swim trunk’s laces. His meaty thighs pushed against every seam. Even his junk had no room; you could see his package pressed against the crotch of the floral trunks in a tennis-ball shaped arc. Kyle grumbled and turned around to put his remaining clothes in his locker, removing his shirt the rest of the way. The effects of the three-man effort to tie his swimsuit showed from behind as well, his love handles spilling comically far over the sides of his waist like a soft-serve ice cream cone. His globulous butt strained against the fabric holding it in - it looked like the seams were even starting to pull apart slightly where his fat, bubble ass mounded to its furthest arc. “I don’t know if I can go all day in these and still breathe… I guess they do sell swim trunks here,” he sighed, turning back around.

I sensed the slightest bit of shame in Kyle’s voice, almost as if he had begun to admit to himself that maybe his recent “bulk” had gotten a bit out of control. And a bit out of control was an understatement. Without his shirt on, Kyle’s fatty pecs rounded into muscular, fleshy tits, framed by a moderate smattering of light-brown chest hairs that thinned out as it traveled in a faint happy trail over his plump, fleshy belly. The “dad-bod” as we call it today was in full view, and he stood sturdier and much fatter than he had ever had before.

Josh seemed to have picked up on Kyle’s newfound shame as well. He reassured Kyle: “Dude, you’ve had those shorts since you were barely 16. You're a man now,” punching him playfully in the side. “You absolutely should get a new swimsuit that you haven’t had since you were just a kid. Man bodies aren’t built like boy’s bodies,” he said. Though Josh’s back was still turned to me, I was almost certain he darted his head in my direction as he said “boy’s bodies,” as I watched Kyle’s eyes briefly flick to my shirtless abdomen and back at Josh.

The validation from Josh (perhaps combined with seeing my “lanky” body) seemed to make him snap out of it, smiling sheepishly at first, but then proudly. “You’re right... and it’s bulking season anyways! Might as well have a proper swimsuit for it.” His stomach, looking massive above the suit’s skin-crushing tightness, jiggled in a downward arc towards his thighs as he swung his drawstring bag onto his now-bare back. “I’m gonna get us a spot along the deck chairs” he said, walking out of the locker room. He passed an incoming kid, skinny as a rail, who did a double-take at Kyle as he passed by, his big stomach swaying with each step at the kid’s eye level.

As I began to apply sunscreen, I turned my attention to Josh as he lowered his boxer briefs, big dick flopping out as he bent over to step out of them. I forced myself to steal only the quickest glances so as not to get caught staring, and it was all over too soon as Josh quickly yanked his blue and red-striped polo trunks up to his waist and stuffed his egg-sized balls and bratwurst-sized flaccid cock into the netting.

Sam, directly to the right of me, had been changing as well, quickly swapping his boxers for his trunks. I saw some bare skin out of the corner of my eye, but was too scared to fully turn my head as he was directly next to me. Sam wiggled his hips as he pulled the shorts up, and I realized he was struggling to pull the waistband up and over his bubble butt. This made me lust once again, thinking about the two bubble-cheeks exposed a few mere feet to my 4 oclock. Sam eventually got the shorts over his ass, but was now having some issues bringing the button of his pants together as well. Not nearly as dire a situation as Kyle’s trunks, but I stole a longer glance as he inhaled slightly and buttoned the trunks before exhaling his tummy, the slightest spare tire pressing into the waistband. They were snug alright, but as he turned around to leave, it was even clearer why Sam had struggled so much more to pull them on. His narrow waist curved nearly 90 degrees below the trunks’ waistband, jutting out to a proportionally enormous bubble ass. It pulled dramatically at the seat of his pastel-blue Nautica trunks as he walked out of the locker room. So much so, that the leg holes, which fell right above his knees last year, now ended much higher, at his mid-thigh. His ass swallowed the seam of the seat of his trunks, disappearing as his cantaloupe-shaped cheeks rubbed the material inward as he walked out of the locker room. I had to will my plumped dick from growing any further in my swimsuit as I dumped my sunscreen bottle into my drawstring and began to lock my locker.

Josh had apparently seen Sam struggle to get his suit on as well, because as Sam walked out of the locker room, Josh finished locking his locker, and turned to me. “Looks like you’re the only one that still actually fits in your suit, Lank,” he chuckled friendlily, pulling off his tank overhead by the back collar with rippling arms. His shirtlessness revealed two defined, bulging pecs, with perfect nickel-sized magenta nipples that sat atop an upside-down triangle of bulging traps, abs and obliques. His muscles were covered by the slightest layer of fat that only enhanced their size, creating a smooth silhouette like a marble statue. Deep “v” lines ran along the bottom of his six pack and pointed towards where his muscled torso met his polo swim trunks. The trunks were snug along his waist, and got even more snug on his upper legs, large quads and thighs filling out the upper part of the pantlegs. As a result, his package had nowhere to go but forward. If Kyle’s package created a tennis-ball shaped bulge, Josh’s girthy dick and huge balls formed a softball pressed up against the lower crotch of his trunks. He playfully turned his hips 180 to show his well-muscled ass straining against the swimsuit’s fabric, and I could see the outline of Josh’s sizable glutes.

“I guess you’re right” I half-smiled. “You and Kyle are both going to have to buy new suits I guess. For your... “man bodies,”” I air-quoted.

“Kyle needs a new suit so he can keep gorging himself without tearing through his pants,” Josh responded with a surprising glib acidity. “My man-body,” he said more playfully, melodramatically running his hands from his pecs to his abs to his hips, “looks pretty great in this tight suit, don’t you agree?” His facial expression changed from playful back to serious as his eyes met mine with surprising fire. As he finished the question, one of his hands moved from his hip to his immense package, giving it a light squeeze. I held his gaze, not really knowing what to say, focusing mostly on keeping my cock from getting any more chubbed than it already was. Perhaps three or four seconds passed, which felt like eternity due to the silence and unbroken eye contact, before Josh lowered his gaze, cracked a cheesy smile and clapped me on the back. “Let’s get out there and ride some water slides, Micah.”

I did my best to mirror his snap out of the awkward interaction. I smiled a half-sheepish, half relieved grin, and cheered, “finally! Let’s go!”

I followed him out of the locker room, shaking off the strange encounter and slipping my shades on. I smiled, knowing the day was young and I was about to spend the rest of it with my three shirtless friends in the hot sun and refreshing water.

...

part 3 to come.

[duckulamoved]

Ok ok ok I found some of my old writing I never finished earlier. On of them is a couple years old for a MLP fic I wanted to write that had my ocs in it. One of the ocs, Polar Freeze, is a pen pal of Rarity’s from Manehattan who has invited her and her friends to a fashion show. At the same time, they are called to Manehattan for solve a friendship problem. Rarity wonders how she will help her friend and solve a friendship problem at the same time, but it turns out, the two may just be connected. 

I wanted to write it as though it were a young readers chapter book. Which would be an exercise for me because I tend to be over wordy when I write. I’m not sure about the characterization so far but I think I may have done a good job (at least with Twilight who I know would be delighted to hear about and meet one of her best friend’s friends) here was all I found. (Unedited it’s just one page now I think)

When Rarity receives an invitation to a Fashion Show hosted by an old friend, she is elated. Less so when the Map calls her on a mission to the same city. How will she support her friend and deal with her duty as an element of harmony? The question weighs on her mind the entire trip, but she finds it may be the fashion show is her mission. 

--

The day was beautiful. 

Birds sang and fluttered about, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the grass seemed especially green. The residents of Ponyville trotted about their daily business, chatting amicably amongst themselves. 

It was such a lovely day there wasn't a frown to be seen. 

The Mail Pony was among them, his satchel filled with letters, he smiled knowing ponies would be pleased to receive their packages and letters from friends. 

He tipped a hat to the ponies who greeted him as he made his way to the Carousel Boutique. One of many stops left in the day, but that thought didn't break his stride. 

With one hoof he knocked lightly on the door. And just a moment later, it opened for him. 

“Parcel for Miss Rarity!” He said, producing the small letter from his satchel with his magic. 

“Oh, why thank you, Darling!” Rarity returned, taking the envelope with her own magic. It was a simple exchange, but the two bade each other goodbye as the mail pony trotted to his next delivery, and Rarity turned back inside. 

“More orders?” Twilight and Spike were visiting, helping Rarity to organize a recent influx of orders. Spring was just around the corner, and many ponies wanted to be prepared for the new fashion season. Spike spoke from over the top of a small mountain of envelopes. He was bored. This was not a way to spend a Saturday, but for Rarity he would try. 

“Thankfully, no!” Rarity said. She loved the orders, to be sure. But so much work was ever so slightly stressful. It was good to know the stack wouldn't grow any more today. 

As she spoke she grabbed a letter opener from across the room. “On the contrary, I've been very excited about this letter.” The opener cut through the envelope with ease before floating aside to the desk with the torn paper, leaving the folded note inside. 

“What is it, if you don't mind me asking?” Twilight said, turning away briefly from her already organized stack of envelope orders. She'd truthfully done the bulk of the work. But she was happy to do so. She loved organizing. 

Rarity smiled fondly as she unfolded the note. “Its a letter from a friend of mine in Manehattan.” 

“Like a pen pal!?” This excited Twilight. “Rarity I didn't know you had a penpal!”

“Oh, yes! We've been writing since we were fillies. But, Polar is rather shy, so I thought best not to mention her until she was ready to meet you all.” She trailed off as she began to read, eyes scanning the note. 

It said: 

Dearest Rarity,

I was very excited to hear about your latest fashion exploits. I'm so happy for you and your expanding business. I've visited your boutique in Canterlot recently and it's so lovely. I still check into Rarity for You often. I was sad to miss you on your last visit. I'm very proud of you and hope you continue to grow. 

Things are crazy as ever with my family, though I thank you for asking. My brother and I haven't exactly been seeing eye to eye lately and my family keeps talking about me taking over the business soon. I'm not ready, Rarity, and I'm not sure what to do. I hate to bother you about this but, given your past adventures I wondered if you might be able to offer some helpful insight. She's very busy I'm sure but I wondered if you might be able to ask the Princess for help, since you are such wonderful friends. 

I feel like I am talking too much, and I would love to catch up personally. My family is hosting their end of season fashion show. I expect it to be chaotic, given everything that's been going on, but it might be entertaining! I would like to extend an invitation to you. I would so love to see you again. And perhaps meet your friends. They don't have to attend! But the invitation is there if they like. I have tickets attached for each of you. I do hope to hear from you soon, and do let me know if you can make it! I will talk to you again soon. 

Your Loving Friend, 

Polar Freeze

Twilight and Spike let Rarity finish reading, although the Princess of Friendship could hardly contain her excitement. A pen pal! One of her friends had a pen pal! By extension, she wanted to meet this friend of Rarity’s. 

Hardly able to contain her excitement, and with disregard for manners, she said, “Ooh, what's it say what's it say!” with hooves tapping against the ground happily. 

Rarity set the letter lovingly on her desk for later response, though the tickets attached to the note still hovered above her. 

“Why we've all been invited to Manehattan for a Fashion event!” 

“All?” Spike asked. 

“All of us,” Rarity assured, sending a ticket Spike’s way. 

It was a small, glittery piece of paper, with words and swirls that sparkled and shined. The silver snowflakes across the edge almost looked real. Frosted Nights was written across the middle. 

“We get to meet your friend?!” Twilight was a little too overjoyed. 

“Why yes,” Rarity nodded, happily, “If you would like. Although,” she frowned slightly. “It does seem poor Polar is having some family issues. Her and her brother haven't exactly had the best relationship the past years and she is rather broken up about it. She thought you might have some insight, Twilight.”

At this, the Alicorn's eyes sparkled. “She wants my help. Rarity, I would be honored! When is the show?!” 

“Apparently next week,” Spike said, checking the date on his ticket. 

“Oh, that's so close!” Twilight tapped her toes in anticipation. 

“Oh, Twilight, Polar will be thrilled! I'll writet back to her as soon as I can.” 

Soon would have been now, truthfully, but both fillies felt an odd static run up their sides. It was the same feeling that preceded the soft glow of their cutie marks. 

The Map was calling them.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 22 of 30]

Summary: Erik and Yani face serious troubles...

Mature Audience. NSFW. Smut.

"Behind my pride there lives a me, that knows humility Inside my voice there is a soul, and in my soul there is a voice But I've been, too afraid to make a choice Cause I'm scared of the things that I might be missing

Running too fast to stop and listen It's time to step out on faith, I've gotta show my faith It's been illusive for so long but freedom is mine today I've gotta step out on faith it's time to show my faith…"

– "Strength Courage & Wisdom" - India.Arie

Erik was late arriving for breakfast in the front house. He jogged around the compound trying to offset tension in his body. Lack of sleep made him cranky. He felt like he was losing focus of the big picture.

The other mercs went through plates of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, biscuits, and grits. Erik put together a plate of lighter fare, some fruit, wheat toast, and a glass of orange juice. He glanced at Leona who replaced a platter of bacon with fresh sausage links and was surprised to see Yani's cousin Cee Cee in the kitchen pulling out hot biscuits from the oven.

When breakfast was over and the crew wandered down to the gun range to discuss departure dates and future rendezvous points, Erik straggled behind in the kitchen.

His eyes peeped Cee Cee again as he placed his orange juice glass in the sink. Leona wiped down the kitchen counter with a soft blue cloth.

"She won't work here anymore," Leona said with a soft voice.

Cee Cee leaned against the dining table in the other room watching him and Leona.

There was no need to ask why.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Leona nodded.

"Me too."

"How is Sweet Pea?"

Leona smiled big and wide.

"She good. Spending more time with her father…and sister…"

Erik went to the fridge and grabbed a bottled water.

"That's good," he said.

"She still ask about her Baba—"

"It's okay, Miss Leona—"

"Him don't need no explanation. Don't even talk to him about nothin', Auntie."

Cee Cee brought in empty bowls and brushed past Erik, shoving him a little.

"Cee Cee—"

"Fuck him. I told Yani he was just using her—"

"Quiet your foul mouth, gyal!"

Cee Cee looked startled by Leona's voice.

"Auntie—"

"We can still be cordial. Kind."

Leona's eyes took in Erik's dower expression.

"They are both doing well, Mr. Killmonger."

Erik left the kitchen, his legs moving so swift he could still hear his name on Leona's lips.

It hurt.

Like hell.

A physical pain that lodged in his throat and wouldn't leave his belly any peace.

He hated being at the compound. And now that she was gone for good, all he saw were dreary days ahead until he left that tiny rock.

During the meeting with Klaue and the other mercs, Erik once again found himself compartmentalizing his thoughts to keep sane. He also found himself looking forward to London. He needed to be around family, people who loved him, and to be in a new environment. What was once a warm paradise had now become a cold underworld.

Yani had turned all of her social media private. He had no more access to her or glimpses of Sydette. She cut off all contact. Blocked his number.

It hardened his heart. But it was for the best he kept telling himself. His bags were packed.

He was ready to vanish.

###

Linda was always hovering around Killmonger.

It drove Yani crazy.

Not because she cared about them being together, but because it was intentional on Linda's part.

The bulk of Erik and Linda's time together was spent with Klaue of course, but there were those times that Yani thought Linda was purposely being dramatic in front of her to get a reaction.

Touching Erik and grabbing on his arm after meals. Laughing a little too loud with him when Yani passed by with dirty laundry or cleaning supplies. Even when Yani used different routes to move around the compound, Linda found a way to be there.

"What's wrong with you?" Leona asked.

Yani stacked glasses and dishes in the cupboards then rinsed her hands in the sink.

"Nothing."

"Not with that face."

"Got a lot on my mind."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Just school stuff. Figuring out my schedule for next term."

Her Aunt watched her but didn't question her further.

"They still at the gun range?" Yani asked.

Leona glanced at the small viewscreens near the fridge.

"Yes."

"I'll be back—"

"Yani."

"Yes?"

Leona put her arms around Yani.

"I know it's not easy."

"I'm fine, Auntie. For real."

"I hear you say that, gyal, but mi know the truth."

"See you in a few."

Yani looked around her surroundings before she snuck a towel from the pool area and made herself blend into the foliage as she slipped down the hidden path. She hummed a little bit to herself as she pulled off her t-shirt. Adjusting her bikini top, she was glad that she opted to wear her swimsuit under her clothes. After a quick dip, she could throw her shirt and dark sweats back on with no one even knowing she had been in the water.

Reaching the final curve that opened up to the cove, Yani stopped and clenched her fist inside her bundled shirt.

Linda was sprawled out on a towel in a pink one piece. Erik was right next to her on his own towel, shades covering his eyes. A pounding pressure struck her left temple and a dark heat rose in her chest. The cove felt polluted with their presence. Nothing was sacred anymore and Yani wanted to cry. Why would he bring her down there? He knew that was her water…

"Taking a break?"

Linda stared at her as she smoothed out her beach towel.

Yani kept quiet. Erik didn't even budge. She wanted to kick sand on him.

"The water is actually a decent temperature," Linda said.

She stood up and walked into the water, allowing the water to reach her chest.

Yani pulled her shirt back on and turned around to head back to the kitchen with her Aunt.

"You down here too?"

Neal's predatory smile made Yani feel worse. Unger was behind him wearing trunks. She backed up from the two of them.

"The water is great!" Linda called.

Yani walked past the two men and when she glanced back, Erik was still sunbathing. He hadn't moved an inch.

Yani acted unbothered for a long time, but the last straw was watching Linda walk out of Killmonger's room giving her orders to bring him soup. Slinking around in a gauzy house dress and telling her not to disturb him. They probably fucked all night, using up another box of condoms, and expected her to clean their messy sheets.

That man had the damn nerve to make her bring him food to that bed. Just an excuse to rub her nose in his new sex life.

She wasn't hurting for dick though.

Zachary turned out to be a capable replacement.

The sex was…different. Calm. But satisfying.

They started hanging out together. Lunch dates. Occasional dinner dates. She brought him to social events with her friends and then finally brought him around family again. She kept Sydette out of the equation this time around. She didn't want to put her daughter through the attachment of another man who might not be a long-term partner. It was better that way. Sydette still asked about her Baba, but Yani kept her busy with daycare, play dates, and time with Chez.

Chez.

Who knew he could get his shit together to act as a father for once? Maybe Killmonger had knocked some damn sense into the man. Sped up his maturity. Being forced to give him Sydette was heart-wrenching, but in the end, it gave Yani the freedom to do things for herself on the weekends.

When Killmonger tried to tell her that he missed her, Yani became enraged. After screaming at him in Klaue's house, she was done. There was no way to be at the compound with him there. She went back to her apartment and blocked Killmonger from any access to her.

Zachary helped her forget. Especially that night when she saw Killmonger at the Bacchanal. He had the damn nerve to ask her to dance as if they were chummy like that anymore. When he walked up on her she wanted to spit in his face, tried her best to keep her hands to herself when she felt him standing behind her, all that body heat of his fanning out onto her. Thank God her homegirls kept him in check. They prevented her from clawing his face. Him standing there with short hair, almost clean-shaven, like he was pretending to be some new dude for her. Fuck him.

The lap dance she gave in front of the crowd was a declaration to him that alla her thickness was off limits to him for good. Once she was back in her apartment, she called Zachary over and finally gave him her sticky sweetness.

Strange though.

She gave Zachary everything on her couch, but not in her bed.

The bed that Killmonger bought her.

Each time she had sex with Zachary they did it in his bed at his place, or on her couch. Never her bed.

Different hands on her body, different energy around her, different conversations in her house made it easier to loosen Killmonger from her thoughts.

It wasn't full-proof though.

She caught herself having lucid dreams of Killmonger fucking her. She'd wake up with her pussy throbbing like she could feel him inside of her. Her slippery wet dreams felt so real. Swollen wet folds greeted her fingers when she woke up from those erotic imaginings. Bitterness slept in her mouth with his name still trapped there. Zachary would have his sheathed average length sink into her, and sometimes she would catch herself daydreaming of Killmonger in the middle of the act. Zachary could get quite worked up, but it wasn't the ferocity she was accustomed to. She wondered how long it would take to shake the ghost of that nigga's dick from her pussy. She wanted to hate that man to help her forget him. How could she when he still haunted her in her sleep and in another man's arms? It was crazy. But she knew it would pass. It always did eventually and then she was over it.

Erik seemed to be over it. He didn't bother to stay out of her way anymore, and when he passed her by it was like she was a non-entity.

She treated him the same and eventually, she became numb to his presence.

Almost.

Her last day working came once Leona received permission from Klaue to have Cee Cee trade jobs with Yani from now on.

Taking one last walk around the property searching for Jerome, she encountered a sobering sight. All the men and Linda hovered around Erik and Neal as they fought one another in an open circle. Hand to hand tussling. Shirts off. Both wearing loose joggers. Neal was using boxing moves that Yani was familiar with, but Killmonger was making moves that frustrated Neal. It was that capoeira he knew and some other fighting style.

Her heart thudded as she watched the two men give one another bruising punches. Neal lost his cool completely when Erik used his bare feet to strike his face with a series of tight cartwheels and backflips.

"Get him, Killmonger!" Linda shrieked as she tossed water from a bottle at both of them. Neal was able to get in some hard hits and when his fist made contact with Killmonger's cheek, something ignited in that man and his hands became swift weapons against Neal's chest and stomach.

The others urged them on and Yani felt herself getting queasy watching blood spurt from Neal's mouth and cuts from Killmonger's face from bare knuckles. Neal gave Killmonger a powerful uppercut that made him stagger back clutching his jaw. He flexed his neck and lunged for the man, placing him in a tight headlock. Killmonger punched the man and more blood flowed.

Neal twisted his waist and Killmonger shoved him onto the ground.

They traded more blows until Neal charged Killmonger knocking him onto his back. Yani gritted her teeth knowing the hard cement would break skin. Killmonger reached up and grabbed Neal's throat, his powerful hands choking tight. Neal thrust his hands up and broke Killmonger's hold on him. Rolling away from the leaner man's weak punches, Killmonger swayed his body in a dance-like rhythm around Neal causing the other man's frustration to bubble over. Neal reached for a thick broken tree branch lying on the ground and beat Killmonger with it. The abuse didn't last long once the branch was snatched from Neal's hand and tossed aside. Yani's Ex lost it.

Killmonger beat the man so bad that Unger and Shipley had to drag him away.

"Jesus…Killmonger…!" Linda shouted.

"Thought you were gonna back that shit up homie…said you could show me some things. Whatchu show me, huh? Nothin' nigga. You ain't want this—"

Huntsman helped Neal to his feet and away from Killmonger.

"Lemme go! I'm not done yet!"

Neal thrashed against Huntsman.

"Trust me, you're done. Go clean yourself up," Linda blurted, her fingers touching the wounds on Killmonger's face.

"Anyone else want a taste? All that talk…"

Killmonger spit on the ground. What splattered there was dark against the cement. He wiped his chin and his heated eyes darted around, challenging the others.

Linda's eyes were riveted to Killmonger's. She handed him a beer and he took a deep swig. Grabbing it away from him, she drank down the rest spilling it on her shirt.

"Making a mess," he said.

"You wish," she said.

Linda reared back and kicked Killmonger in the chest. Surprised, he dropped down and swept his legs against hers knocking her off balance. Linda recovered and threw up her fists to box him.

What was wrong with them? Was this their entertainment?

Yani couldn't take it anymore and left them to their violent play.

###

A sheet and pillowcase were tangled in the dryer as Yani pulled them out. She couldn't get the images of Killmonger fighting out of her head. Folding the linens, she wondered how he could be so brutal and willing to harm his own body when it wasn't necessary—

Killmonger barged in carrying a knit bag of dirty clothes. His left cheek looked slightly swollen, and he had a small bandage over his right cheekbone. He halted near the doorway for a second when he saw her, then went about his business of checking the washing machine. He tossed his clothes in, reached up for laundry detergent, and ignored her completely. He wore a tight t-shirt and camouflage pants. A Glock was tucked in the back of his waistband.

Yani continued folding sheets over on the wide folding table next to the dryer.

"There any more fabric softener?" he asked looking up at the shelf above the machines.

Yani reached under the folding table and lifted up a new bottle of softener. She slammed it on the washing machine and continued folding.

Killmonger took the bottle and opened it. He glanced at her for a moment and stuck the softener on the shelf above him. Lingering after his clothing load started, Yani felt irritated.

"You need somethin' else?"

"Nah. You?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

He sauntered over to the door.

"Why did you take her down there?"

"What are you grumbling about now?"

"That was my place…my private spot to swim and be alone—"

"You gonna stand there and whine about people swimming? You don't own nothing here—"

"But you know how I feel about that place!"

Yani's shrill scream shocked her own self, her fists clenched and pressed against her thighs.

"I didn't take her down there. She said she followed you and discovered it. You didn't do a good job of protecting your playground. She told the others about it. That's on you."

Yani reached out and struck him in his chest. She was shaking so hard as her nails raked across his keloids.

"What is wrong with you?! Bitch—"

He pushed her back against the folding table and Yani reached up and grabbed onto the silver chain he wore around his neck that had an onyx and silver ring on it.

"What you not about to do is have me come up out myself!" he yelled.

Grabbing her arms, he held them against her, his face hard and close to her face. His gold teeth gleamed in the laundry room light. Her hands shook furiously at her sides and she tried her best to keep tears from pressing out of her lids, but he saw it.

"Fuck, Yani…calm down…it's not that serious," he said placing his hands on her shoulders.

"It is for me."

"You right girl…you right…forget what I said."

She pulled back from him and started folding the sheets again. He didn't move from where he was and when she looked back at him, all she could focus on was the bruises on his face. It was like she was staring at a stranger. How did it come to this so fast?

She couldn't breathe. The room felt like it was closing in on her.

He reached out and cradled her neck, pulling her in close. His other hand stroked her arm and when she shuddered, he lifted her up and made her sit on the laundry table, her ass warmed up by a clean bed sheet.

"Hmmm…"

The groan in his throat was swallowed by her mouth when his lips sought hers out. His tongue pushed her lips apart and he leaned into her so her breasts pressed into his chest. The ring on his chain poked her.

She had forgotten what his mouth and lips felt like. No, that was a lie. She missed how his mouth and lips felt like. His tongue snaked around hers and her legs automatically opened wider for him. She gasped when he yanked up her shirt and unfastened her bra. Reaching behind himself he pulled his gun out of his pants and sat it next to her hand on the table. She watched him raise up his shirt and pull half of it over his neck, showing a chest and abs that were worked out more from when she last saw it naked.

Plunging his tongue down her throat again he stayed on her mouth until she felt her insides squeeze with anticipation. Hot breath in her ear, and hotter lips on her neck, Yani leaned back giving in more by the minute. He licked around her neck and she bent her head forward so he could lick her tattoos and give tiny kisses there.

His fingers hooked into the band of her loose cotton sweats and her hands jerked back to hold them in place.

His tongue slipped into her ear and the wet warmth made her stomach drop and her hands grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Baby…" he sighed, tugging on her pants again.

She let him drag them down, rocked her hips forward and lifted her ass to help him get them down to her ankles. He pulled down his pants and fisted his erection. His eyes sought hers and she felt all tension leave her body with a rising desire to join their bodies together again. She placed her fingers around his fat wet glans and squeezed. His eyes slammed shut and his mouth parted, the gleam from those gold slugs taunting her. Her skin tingled wanting him to bite her flesh. She placed his tip against her opening and when she enveloped his length, she didn't exhale until he was firmly rooted.

"Daddy gotchu all upset," he said digging in her pussy hard.

She gripped his length tight and his eyes stayed on her face.

"Taking it like a good girl…Daddy's good girl. All this dick…yeah…stretching this fat pussy out right. Don't be mad. Daddy's sorry…ohhh shit…you putting it on me girl. You still mad at me? Huh, that why you gripping me so fucking tight? You squeezin' Daddy's dick…ah fuck…keep squeezin' on this pipe….do that shit girl…punish me, Baby…teach Daddy a lesson…."

Yani's head tilted back, her mouth alternating between staying parted and becoming a tight pout. She felt so full. Zachary could never hit her walls like that. He was unable to hit the bottom of her pussy like Killmonger's extra inches. Her facial expressions must've excited him because Killmonger never looked away as he stroked her deep.

"Been keepin' this pussy tight for me…" he grunted.

He lifted up and pulled her pants all the way off so he could push her legs back on the table. The angle tugged on her clit and he rode that position while he continued watching her face. It was hard to keep her eyes on him as she closed them occasionally because she couldn't stand the intense pressure on her walls. He was moving in a way that prevented her from getting full contact stimulation on her clit. The tugging of her hood had her moaning under her breath. She wanted to scream but there was no telling who was around to hear her cries if she truly let go of what she suppressed.

"Look at me, girl. Keep them eyes on me. I like watching your face handle this dick-"

"Nigga it don't take this long to throw some clothes in the…oh, shit, my bad nigga—"

Shipley's flustered voice took in Yani's pussy being plowed righteously. Killmonger got in four more good strokes before he even stopped. Yani grabbed her shirt and pulled it down. She pushed off of Killmonger's dick and pulled on her pants.

Shipley's eyes stayed on her the entire time and Yani felt so much shame. The man held the door wide open.

"Yani!" Erik called.

She left, half walking, half running past Shipley and down to the cove barefoot.

Out of breath, she stepped into the water just to feel the coolness revive her feet. She would never come back there again. Not to the healing waters that caressed her toes, or the compound that had taken care of her since she was fourteen. She couldn't face any of the people. Especially Shipley. He would confirm that what they all whispered about was true.

The sun did a slow crawl to a blood-red sunset. Her body felt hot and sickened and embarrassed by the day.

She stripped and walked further into the water.

She wasn't shocked to hear a splash behind her as she swam further out. She heard his arms stroke through the placid water.

"Yani. You okay?"

He swam around her naked until he could see her face. They both tread in deep waters staring at one another. Killmonger tried reaching out to her, but Yani swam back to shore and pulled her clothes back on. She felt empty. Cold.

It hurt to walk away from her once special place.

And him.

###

On a lazy Sunday when Chez had Sydette, Klaue summoned her to the compound. Her Aunt texted her and said Klaue wanted to see her right away.

Yani was hesitant, worried that she would run into Killmonger or worse…Linda.

But the compound was quiet.

Klaue sat by his pool drinking a whiskey sour, and when she stood before him, he waved a hand for her to sit in the lounger next to him. She felt nervous, her eyes flitting around expecting Killmonger to show up and throw off her emotions.

"Sad to not have you here anymore, Yani."

Klaue's eyes were runny and pink. He had been drinking for quite some time. Salmon board shorts and a white polo shirt adorned his body. He offered Yani a drink but she declined.

"Here," he said, handing her an envelope.

A check.

Her eyes popped out at the amount.

"Mr. Klaue…"

"That should cover the cost of your schooling, lab fees, etc…"

Yani's heart sped up.

"Your family has taken care of this property for many years. I want to repay that…we want to repay that."

"We?"

"The bulk of that comes from Killmonger. He suggested some sort of severance package for you before he left."

"He's gone?"

Her eyes couldn't hide what she felt.

"It's always all work and barely any play. Family business. He didn't want me to tell you that he gave you part of that. But I wanted you to know. It's obvious that he cares about you and your Aunt. You got very close, didn't you?"

Yani turned her head away from him and focused on the check.

"Killmonger. Complicated. Volatile. Loyal. Easily my best…also one of the meanest men in the trade…and yet…"

Klaue stared at her.

She kept her eyes steady, but her fingers trembled. There was enough money in her hand to take care of herself and Sydette for the next few years. At least until she found a nursing position somewhere. It was beyond school tuition. It was a chance at a real life on her own.

"Thank you—"

"Thank him. He was the most generous. I'm taking care of school. He's taking care of the rest."

"Incoming call. Limbano, Robert."

"Duty calls. Excuse me."

Klaue lumbered up from his seat spilling a bit of whiskey. He shuffled down toward his main house and Yani ran to the front house apartment.

"Auntie!"

Leona sat in front of her tv with Cee Cee watching a nighttime soap.

"What is it?"

Yani shoved the check in her face.

"What is this?"

Leona's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

Cee Cee grabbed the check.

"Shit!" Cee Cee yelped.

"Who gave you this? Klaue?" Leona asked.

"Klaue…but mostly Killmonger."

"Why him do this?" Cee Cee asked.

Leona's eyes stayed with Yani's. Auntie knew, Yani was sure of that.

"Quick, go put it in the bank!" Leona said shoving Yani out of the apartment.

Yani grabbed her Aunt's arm.

"Why didn't you tell me he left?"

"I didn't know."

"I gotta go!"

Yani ran all the way to her car and drove straight to the bank.

Once the deposit had been made, and she waited to make sure the full amount showed up on her deposit slip, she sat in her car and felt the full weight of regret. Pulling out her cell she typed him a message. Erased it. Typed it again.

She swiped his number and felt her chest and stomach get tight waiting for him to answer.

But he didn't.

###

"My God, Addae! Look at my nephew!"

Erik stared at his Aunt Serah as she held her face with her hands staring at him in her front door. He had surprised his play Aunt by arriving a day early. But the bigger surprise was waiting for him in his Aunt's visiting room.

"Fuck outta here! Watchu doin' here, girl!"

Erik ran up and picked up his play cousin Marisol and twirled her around. He dropped her back on her feet and took a good long look at her. Marisol was breathtaking. Skin so rich with unblemished dark skin. Onyx eyes. Perfectly symmetrical features that could be cute and loveable one moment, but fiery and capable of trouble in the next. It was hard to believe sometimes that his play cousin who had been an ashy-legged crybaby tagging after him through the streets of Sao Paolo, and annoying him to no end, grew up to be the raven-haired beauty before him.

"Auntie sent me a ticket since you were skipping us this holiday."

Marisol's voice was a balm to his ears, her Portuguese accent bringing him back to Brazil and her mother's beef dumplings and rice.

"Looking good, cuz," he said.

"And you're looking big. I see you are eating well."

She bent her body low to the ground, her ginga smooth, her hands rocking toward her chest.

"Ready to play already, cuz?" he said.

Erik countered her moves in a mirror-like fashion.

"Oh no, not in my living room with my expensive artwork in the way! Take that outside!"

"We'll stay tight Auntie," Erik said kicking up his foot and tangling it with Marisol's hands. His cousin did a front walkover and twisted her legs around.

"My God, you two can't be together for five minutes without testing one another!"

"Oi quem mandou levar! Essa carta pra sinhá! Oi quem mandou levar! Oia la Besóuro preto. Oi quem mandou levar…!

Marisol's singing voice stirred Erik's movement, his hands and feet flew faster and Marisol held him off.

Erik joined her in the singing and Serah picked up one of her standing statues of a Cameroonian warrior and moved it from their dangerous leg kicks.

"I see nothing has changed, you are both still hard-headed," Serah sighed, standing back from them. She began clapping her hands, keeping the song rhythm going.

Erik did a slow backflip and he swayed in front of his Aunt and sang to her another capoeira song.

"A capoeira meu amor…a capoeira me chamou…a capoeira meu amor…a capoeira me chamou…"

His voice was choppy but true, and Marisol joined him as he serenaded Serah.

"Such a charmer!" Serah said.

She grabbed Erik's chin and kissed his forehead.

"Go wash up. Dinner is ready and you are lucky I made a lot since we weren't expecting you until tomorrow night."

The moment Erik smelled Serah's cooking in the kitchen he had forgotten all about St. Thomas and Klaue and Linda and—

His cell phone chirped up missed calls that finally caught up to him in London and he scrolled and erased many that were unimportant. But a certain number popped up on his screen and he stared at it. No text, but a voicemail.

Yani.

"Thank you."

Damn.

She had the money and Klaue opened his big mouth.

"Yani? Who is that?"

Marisol stared at his fingers and he swiped the phone off.

"I swear, every time I see you, it's someone new."

"Shut up."

"It's true."

Serah headed to the kitchen as his Uncle carried his bags to a guest room.

Erik unpacked, and once dinner was served and eating commenced, he put away thoughts about Yani and focused on his family.

His Uncle Addae caught him up on the political happenings in London and other parts of the U.K. Serah gave him a couple of books covering ancient sculptures from Central and East Africa to help him pinpoint pieces he had to look out for. They spent two days going through her archives online and she used 3D imaging to give him a feel for shapes and sizes. He already knew the vibram tattoo on his gums would verify any authentic Wakandan pieces with vibranium in them. They took a family trip to visit a few museums, and Erik took discreet pictures of the layouts of each, prepping himself for future trips if the need arrived.

The rest of his time was used playing chess with Marisol, catching up on friends, family and old girlfriends back in Brazil, going out dancing with her and taking long naps together on the couch like they used to as kids after binging bad horror movies all day.

When his Aunt and Uncle went out to do last-minute Christmas shopping, Marisol made him take off his shirt so she could look at his scars.

Her face took on a pinched intensity.

"JaJa," she whispered using his family nickname as she touched the new lesions that had finally healed after his Angola trip.

"I did it myself. Didn't want to bother you with it."

"How many more must you take?" she said.

"As many as I need to get me what I want…hey…don't make that face. You know what it is—"

"JaJa…"

"I'm done talking about it."

He picked up his laptop and turned on some soft music, setting the computer down on the coffee table in front of them. He pulled his shirt back on.

"I'm not putting any more on your body."

"I do it myself now. No need to bother you with it."

His lips felt tight. Her eyes looked away from his.

"Who is that?"

Erik tried to change the screen images that played with the music on his laptop, but Marisol was too fast. Her thin dark fingers swiped his screen and pulled back the last three images that flashed past.

"JaJa…did you…did you have a child?"

Erik closed his eyes for a moment and sat back on the couch. Sydette's big smiling face filled up the computer screen with his face right next to her. It was one of the last pictures he had with her that Twyla took when he said goodbye to his little girl. They were all dimples in that photo.

"She's mine, but she's not really mine—"

"Don't talk semantics. Is that your baby? Who is the mother? Wait…did Disa and you?"

"No. This baby belongs to someone else—"

"But is she yours?"

Marisol's dark coal eyes looked hopeful.

"No. Her mother is someone I was seeing."

"Show me."

"Not right now, Marisol…please…I'm not-"

"No worries. No pressure then."

She touched his face.

"JaJa…"

Yani still lived in his throat and deep in his chest. Shit. His own cousin could see her on his face.

Marisol patted his chest.

"She's a beautiful child. You both look very happy together."

"I was happy."

"You can't stay that way?"

"Nah…it's too complicated…"

"Hmmm, I've heard that before. This must've been serious. Complicated is in some Disǎ territory. This baby's mother have you wound up like that again?"

Erik's eyes cut away from Marisol's. She was so much like his mother in many ways. Able to read his emotions inside his silence. His fingers reached out and held Marisol's hand. Squeezed it. He leaned forward and scrolled through a photo folder and swiped open a picture of Yani and Sydette inside Klaue's car. The night he left her for Angola.

Marisol stared at the photo and he was met with bright white teeth from her lips.

"They are beautiful. Were you with them before you came here?"

"We didn't part in the best way."

"Do you ever?"

The smirk on her mouth was playful but understanding.

How many times had Marisol witnessed all his messy entanglements? Played referee when he was being sloppy with his dick? Jumped in front of women in her own home town throwing hands over him in public when he was being young and dumb and uncaring? Marisol knew so many of his darkest secrets and shared in two of them. Truth was, if she ever changed from being a teacher, she could be the most brazen killer.

She had a reason to be.

Years ago, they both experienced the trauma of their Aunt Lia's death at the hands of assassins, and that bloody history stained and bound them both. When he was nineteen and she was barely eighteen, they had done the unthinkable together. For revenge. For their Aunt and for his mother.

Erik touched Marisol's black shining hair. It looked like wet ink and smelled like the coconut oil he used to dress his locs in when he was younger. It was a calm smell. Familiar. Soothing. She smelled like coconut oil when she seared a sterile knife into his flesh giving him his first keloid scar on his collar bone. For the cop who captured his mother in Oakland and paved the way for her to be extradited and die a lonely death. Erik was fifteen then.

Marisol gave him three more when they both took out men in Sao Paulo, and he gave her the one and only marking on her body. Under her left breast. She had mixed an ancient concoction she found from an elder in Candomblé who had ties to some ancient maroon scarification rites. It was the start of the map on his body. The story carved into his flesh over the years.

Marisol was there from day one. She was the only one who knew the truth when his family questioned the strange rite. His Uncle Bakari may have suspected some things, but no one else was bold enough to ask for the truth. His past piercings on his face were just youthful experimentation before the Naval Academy. But the scars…

He leaned his head on Marisol's shoulder and she stroked his hair.

"Can you go back to them? Is it a done deal?"

He shrugged.

"You love them?"

He nodded and Marisol sighed.

"Maybe…maybe you shouldn't go through with your plan. This could be a sign for you…"

Erik pulled himself away from her and closed up the picture on his computer. The music still filled the room with hollow sounds.

"Does she love you?"

"She once did…now, I dunno. Like I said…complicated."

"You should fight for this then…wait…listen to me…sit down, JaJa. Hear me out. Perhaps what you really need is there. In that woman. In that little girl."

"I owe them, my parents—"

"Your parents would want you to be happy and free of this. Auntie Lia would want you to have your own life…I want you to have that."

"I'll have it after…"

Marisol leaned forward, pulling her soft shiny curls into a top knot as she moved away from him.

"You'd throw away a guaranteed happy life for an uncertain future? Uncle N'Jobu and Auntie Cali would feel hurt if they saw you now—"

"I feel them in here all the time!"

Erik clutched at his chest. The anger in his voice flew out and Marisol flinched and stepped away from him. He slammed his fist into his chest.

"I carry Baba and Mom in here everywhere I go and that woman…that baby…they pushed themselves in there too and I can't carry them all."

"Hey…hey…JaJa…listen—"

"No you listen! I owe them. My Baba. My Mom. I won't be able to fully rest until I have finished this for them."

They heard the front door open and Serah's excited voice calling to them. Erik jumped up and wiped his face. Marisol reached for his arm and squeezed it.

"We can finish this later—"

"Nah, I'm done talkin' 'bout it."

"I feel sorry for you."

"Don't."

"Fuckin' stubborn—"

"Like you ain't either."

Marisol pursed her lips and went to greet their Aunt and Uncle.

It was time for tree decorating and baking cookies and Erik was happy to see his Aunt feeling like a kid again wrapping gifts for all of them, and making constant face chat calls to Erik's Grandfather and Marisol's mothers. The energy was festive and light even though Marisol's words weighed on Erik's mind. She just didn't understand. He couldn't change his plans midstream.

He was satisfied knowing Yani had funds to build a foundation for herself and Sydette. That was enough for him. He could move on knowing she was good and the baby was good. That was all he could give them. Nothing else.

###

It came from one of the cruise ships that docked at the port a week before Christmas. Tourists came and went with the seasons for it was the ebb and flow of island life. No one thought to quarantine the sick little white boy from Wales when he first showed signs of the sickness, and when his parents trotted him out to a burger stand, the sickness spread among a few island adults and children. It wasn't until the boy died a week later from respiratory failure that health officials were able to trace where it came from.

When it hit St Thomas, it was like a firestorm and spread among the old and young children alike. Most adults were able to pull through, but several babies and toddlers did not. Five had died in two different hospitals already before Yani even knew her own baby was in danger.

"Hey Sweet Pea," she said watching her daughter climb up the stairs with her father. It was Sunday evening the time of handing over Sydette back to Yani so they could spend a few days together with her family before New Year's.

Chez held his other daughter Star in his arms, and Yani noticed right away that something was wrong with Sydette's sister.

"Is she alright?" Yani asked.

Chez held the little girl against his chest as he watched Yani pick up Sydette. Star's coloring was paler than usual and her sweaty brow concerned Yani.

"She hasn't been feeling too well the last two days."

"Take her to the doctor."

Yani stared at her own child. Sydette looked fine.

"Ursula is taking her tomorrow. We've been giving her liquid Tylenol—"

"Chez, I don't think you should wait. Take her now."

Yani reached out and touched the child's forehead. It was clammy and hot. Star had rapid breathing and her lips looked milky blue.

"She's sweating out a fever—"

Star's head lulled back.

"Oh God, Chez!"

"Star!"

Chez ran down to his car with the baby dangling nearly lifeless in his arms.

"I'm calling Ursula!" Yani yelled down to him.

She held Sydette tight as she spoke to Ursula letting her know the condition Star was in. Afterward, Yani jumped online to check for symptoms, and when she read of the children already dead, her stomach lurched. It was contagious.

Sydette looked fine and her temperature was normal. Pacing her living room, Yani called her roommate Nanette who went to Puerto Rico to visit her baby's father with Azriel.

"Don't come back to St. Thomas. At least not until after the New Year—"

"How is Sydette?"

"Alright. I'll keep you updated with news."

"Thanks, Yani. Do you think it was one of those unvaccinated kids?"

"The news doesn't say that here. It spread from China to Europe. Now it's here because of that little boy."

Yani watched over Sydette, feeding her liquids and bathing her carefully.

Later that evening Chez called her back.

Star had what the dead white boy from Wales had.

Yani was on winter break from school and she didn't have to take Sydette into daycare. Staying in their apartment, Yani looked after her daughter and prayed that she was one of the lucky ones. Star's condition worsened, and when she was placed in critical care, Sydette came down with the same exact symptoms.

Yani vacillated between anger at Chez and Ursula and anger at herself for her daughter's poor health. They should've taken Star in the moment she fell ill. Instead, the virus incubated and it was passed onto Sydette.

In the hospital, Yani sat near her daughter's bed as she was pumped with fluids and medicine that hadn't worked for any of the children that died.

Her Aunt Leona and mother stayed by her side as Sydette's condition became more fragile. A new drug was administered and for a few days, it looked like Sydette and Star were improving. Yani was able to get some rest then on an uncomfortable chair.

"Go get some sleep, your mother and I are here," Leona said as she passed her niece a paper cup filled with chamomile tea.

"I don't want her to not see me," Yani said. She was exhausted and scared.

"At least go stretch out in your mother's van."

"No. I want to be here."

All the ill children received round the clock care, and Yani's nurse training allowed her to be calmer than most of the parents on the same floor as her. Staying clinical and remaining alert in the room helped her a little bit.

Watching her baby girl shit on herself and sweat profusely with constant shivers was horrible to witness. Sydette had a fever so high that the doctors worried about her having seizures. Whatever this new virus was, it had the medical staff in a chokehold.

"A baby died on another floor," Yani's mother said walking in with two coffees in her hand.

"Why would you come tell her that?" Leona scolded.

Yani's mother tried to comfort her with a hug, but Yani's pressure was up. Her temples throbbed. She was losing her clinical edge. Sydette wasn't getting better. Star wasn't either. In fact, Star was declining rapidly.

Chez was in and out of their room, comforting one baby mother after the other. He looked distraught and heavily disheveled. His clumsy attempts at trying to keep humor among them to lighten things backfired and Yani found herself stressed even more with his presence. Ursula was constantly texting him to return to Star's room. All the waiting and doctors not knowing what to do wore them all down to gristle. Chez was pulled into two different directions. They would rip him in half.

"Just go be with them," Yani said with deep frustration in her voice. Star was the sicker of the two children and needed Chez the most.

She held Sydette's small hand and couldn't believe the weak little body withering away on the hospital bed was her child.

Twyla and her other cousins came to visit and hold vigil so Yani could eat and relieve herself in the restroom. The more people came parading into the room, the more frightened Yani became. Four days in, Star was put on a breathing machine, and Sydette was trailing behind her.

All she could do was cry.

###

Erik walked into his Aunt's flat full of good cheer and good lager. He went on a pub crawl with his Uncle Addae and they were both lucky that they were clear-headed enough to hail a cab and give comprehensible directions.

He was ready to crawl into a warm bed and sleep off a good buzz, but Marisol greeted him with his cell phone in her hand.

"It's been buzzing non-stop," she said.

"Why I left it to begin with," he said. His words were slurred and he kissed her cheek heading to his room.

"There are a ton of texts, JaJa. Someone talking about your Yani—"

Erik snatched his phone from her hand.

Fifteen messages in an hour. But it wasn't from Yani's number. It was her cousin. Twyla.

Erik swiped her number quickly. It was still early on the island.

"Big Man…"

Twyla's voice sounded all wrong.

"Twyla—"

"Yuh have to come here. Sydette is dying…she nuh 'gon make it. She sister Star passed away this morning. Please come back here. Fast. She's on a respirator and the doctor wants to remove it…"

Erik sobered up instantly.

"Dying?"

"That virus. It spread here. Sweet Pea got it and her sister had it too…and—"

The phone gave muffled sounds and Erik could hear Yani bawling in the background with her mother yelling in heavy patois.

"I have to go. Get here. Anyway you can…please. It's bad."

Erik held his phone for a long time to his ear, even after Twyla hung up.

"JaJa?"

Marisol touched his shoulder.

Erik bolted up from the couch.

"I gotta leave. I gotta get outta here—"

"Where are you going?"

Serah stood in the middle of the room watching him and Marisol.

It was the dawn of a new year, and his baby girl was going to leave the world. That had to be a mistake.

"I gotta go!"

Marisol followed him to the guest room and helped him pack his duffle bag.

"JaJa, what is happening?" Serah asked.

"I'll call you when I get there."

His eyes felt wild in their sockets and he could barely focus on his belongings being tossed into place.

"Marisol? Do you know-?

"He just has to get back—"

"My little girl—"

"Little girl?" Serah's face looked puzzled at his words.

He prayed that he would make it back in time.

Rushing out of the flat, he flagged down a cab that shuttled him over to the airport. He lucked out on a red-eye that could get him to St. Thomas. It was leaving within the hour. His body shook with fear. He was always too late.

When the vibram tattoo in his lip itched as he played basketball with his little homies at the age of 10, he ignored it until the sky above him glowed with streaks of blue clouds above his father's apartment complex. He ran so fast to get to that top floor…but he was too late.

When his grandfather placed him on a plane at eleven with his Aunt Shavonne and Uncle Junie to get to a Sao Paulo prison to see his Mom…it was too late.

Fate always fucked with him, held him back from going forward to get to the ones he loved in time.

All he had on his phone was the address of the hospital and a room number.

His anxiety crippled him on the plane and by the time he dropped down from the sky back onto that tiny rock, Erik was full of fatigue, sorrow, and anger at himself. The last time he saw Sydette in person, she was comforting him, lifting his spirits, and making him grateful to know her tiny soul.

Why did he give her a check instead of himself? What could money do for her now?

The dread in his chest carried him along with the cab ride to the hospital.

God please…don't let me be too late again.

Let me say goodbye properly this time…

###

Chp 23 Here

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