#but what kept me sane. were the LADS

[valkyrie1366669]

Trigger warning: mentions of abortion, cannibalism, miscarriages, product or rape, rape, childhood rape.

Snippet of chapter 6 A Bard's Tale of a White Bat, the Scarred Bear, and a Rabid Red Fox

"Conquer your endgame you mean?" Gale scoffs. Still sour about everything.

The redhead scoffs. She's had it with his smart mouth. Fine, he wants to comment about her sharp tongue. Let him have it. "It must be so easy from your perspective, Mr. Dekarious." She starts before glaring at the human wizard. "A hypocrite in the making about what's wrong and right. Blinded by the crown's potential power. Gale’s folly right? I respect you, as well as everyone else here. But I’ll not be watching my back for you to change your opinion of me. I'll simply take care of it personally like the rabid animal youse think I am- if you attempt anything. You saw what I did to Alfira, Gale. What do you think I can do to you? I had warned all of you that were present that morning."

"You didn't..." Shadowheart starts but she cuts her off. Her eyes flashed gold briefly as she was pissed. It was taking everything not to rip her tongue out.

"FECKIN' HELLS I DIDN'T! I told all of youse I was fighting a darkness in me and couldn't control myself! I WAS BEGGING FOR HELP AND GOT NOTHING!!!! It was all shrugged off. That was with me injured and tied up for the rest of the night. I lost count of how many hours I’ve spent listening to everyone's problems and want to help each of you. I nearly killed Astarion out of the simple choice of letting Isobel live. That’s how Bhaal works with his children.” She starts to speak more with her hands a bit and speech gets a little faster. Her anger was even causing some thorns to grow. Jahiera and Halsin use their magic to keep the foliage at bay.

Minthara’s head tilts a little. “Then speak, half-fairy. Whereas I find this side of you magnificent. Clarify for the childish minds.”

“We’re not acting childish.” Gale narrows his eyes at the Drow noble.

“Your tone says otherwise, wizard. You’re blindly pushing something out of your control. I met Orin. Trust me when I say Gwynnistri is more sane and trying not to kill you where you stand. I certainly would have ended you for your insubordination. So let her speak as you and the others put her on the stand.”

While Minthara spoke, the Bhaalspawn Druid had been trying to breathe. Tempting to cool her urges that were just along the edge. As they were getting closer to the edge of no control. “There is nae a day or night I worry I'll kill someone here. My head pounds and my body aches every time I resist it. Feels like hot pokers prodding my body all the time. Pain from my muscles ache from the first to last light, and I feel numb most days. I still occasionally throw up blood from that Myrkul cleric rearranging my organs and not eating properly. Kept awake from not just the parasite, but dreams of red- probably a sliver of what I've done." She chuckles at the end.

“Forgive me if I’m doubtful, but every Baldurian knows your kind. You are still Bhaal’s favorite. Even Gortash said that. Or perhaps how do we know you aren’t the shape changer.” Wyll comments.

‘The noble and blindly honorable ones are always the most annoying. He was still young.’ The Blood Druidess smirks. “Ye really want to go down this route lad? Because I’d advise you not to tempt it. Drop the attitude of seeing things black and white for the moment.” Her whole face darkened as she confessed a dark truth.

Gale scoffs. “We deserve the truth as you hid it. You are deflecting the situation.”

The urge to kill her two companions was getting difficult to control. Her dominant hand twitched to break Wyll’s horns and impale him with it. Cause Gale’s body to explode by making his blood explosive and lethal. “You’re his heir to his bloody throne.”

After the Blade of Frontiers remark, Gwynnistri palm strikes Wyll and Gale hard. Causing their noses to break as a warning to be quiet. “Me and twin brother were the result of rape. Bhaal had used my father’s form to make me ‘pedigree stock’ for his experiment. A Bhaalspawn raised outside his temple and raised outside of it. Fancy isn’t it?” She then uses her blood magic to heal Wyll as her anger gets the better of her.

Wyll still had a hand over his nose until he was healed. “Gwynn I..”

“Oh, now you’re sorry. Funny how I didn’t push any of you to mention your past. But I guess that was asking too much.” She laughs at it. Mostly from being emotionally drained and a little of her madness getting to her. Their bantering was edging her urges.

“But the worst of it wasn’t the gore, cannibalism, or murder, monster slayer. It was hearing those girls’ screams. It’s haunted me as I could hardly do anythin’ about it. I don’t remember all of it, but I remember a man cutting a lass up as he couldn’t fit. Even I had limits despite that picture of me you’re painting. For a brief time, I did try from a young age to please father dearest. It was a requirement among some he deemed worthy. All of my children were born dead or heavily deformed. One had skin like stone and another with half a brain. Not surprising as I poisoned myself often then to get rid of the parasite growing in me. I was no older than you were when you made the pact with Mizora when I had my first.”

Despite what the Druidess was confessing and the horrid looks on her companions' faces, she clearly accepted that a long time ago when she made sense of it. Hard to say how long she had known about it. Her partners didn’t know all of that either. Parts but not to that vivid detail as they didn’t want to pressure her into it. Though Jaheira has never personally met a female Bhaalspawn, the history was not foreign to her in that way.

“I killed and aborted so many of Bhaal’s children. Just so the mother would live. Or even a young lad tired of being used. I always got a whipping as I used my Druidic teachings to terminate the babes. Imagine seeing so many children and teenagers being parents. They asked for release as death was better than living. I still have those thoughts every once in awhile even when I’m happy. Incestial rape was more common than anything. I even ate my own babe’s corpses at times when they were no bigger than the pommel of your rapier. All to keep my rouse of keeping them safe as much as I could and when I was around. I was one of the few lucky ones as I killed anyone who tried or if I saw it. My job was to cull the weak, and those people are always my favorite prey.”

"Gwynn I..." Karlach tried to apologize, but instead got a cold glare. Unusual from the redhead as she was usually warm and soft-spoken with Karlach. "I'm sorry... I didn't know. I wish I realized it ahead of time." Her face seemed mournful for her friend as she knew the tales her parents would say about Bhaalspawn whenever she wasn't behaving well. How if she misbehaved enough, one would come after her. Funny how things worked out. Now apparently a Bhaalspawn is one of her closest friends.

The redhead sighs at her Tiefling friend. "As nice as that sounds; sorry doesn't change me fate, Karlach. If it’s not the Parasite that gets me, Bhaal will. You've chosen how youse want to go out on your terms. I have mine in case." She rubs her temple with her fingers to ease the mental spike in her head. “Enjoy your blueprints.” She was going to test everyone’s blood for a doppelganger. But she needed to have a moment or rest of the evening to herself.

[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

The following is a transcript of a lore-important roleplay that occurred on Discord. Some changes will be made to narration and dialogue to better suit flow.

Please enjoy.

Jane knew what needed to be done. He knew what needed to happen years ago, after the war, running away with Zhanna. He just wasn't ready to leave the only home he knew. But it was hardly a home anymore. More like a prison. A prison that contained his ceaseless nostalgia, and he intended to leave it there. To rot.

He unlocked the door to his apartment, sluggish, hand heavy. Claw, even heavier. Sauntering inside, the place was covered in a thick layer of dust. It'd been years since he went home to his apartment. How long had he continued to pay rent? He must be dirt poor by now, surely.

Maybe not. He hoped not.

He began with a ruck sack. Taking canned food out of the cabinets and lining them up on their sides inside the bag's coarse interior. Strapping his shotgun to the side wrapped in tinfoil, to vaguely conceal it's shape. Just a tent pole. Just a tent pole. No need to pry closer.

Next were his clothes. White, brown, red, blue, green t-shirts rolled up into tight bats. Dress and standard-issue pants folded neatly into squares. A few rounds on the top, like sprinkles. He had no idea how he was going to conceal his rocket launcher, but he'd figure that out later.

There was a rental in the parking lot. He didn't have a clue how he was approved for it under a name like Jane Doe, but he was, and he was thankful for it. He tossed his bag in the trunk, his launcher set carefully in the back, and sat down in the driver's seat.

She was smooth. New. Smelled a little like cigarettes. Stick shift. A little blue tree hanging from the rear view.

What a shame she'd never go home.

He peeled out of the parking lot and through the complex gate, down the road that lead to the base.

He wasn't quite done packing.

The smell of damp concrete hit him as the spring air permeated the walls, and his boots click, clacked, click, clacked down the beaten path. He beelined it straight for his dorm, hoping to God he was the only one wandering the ghost town that was now RED base. Hoping to God that if there was anyone there, that they wouldn't-

"Hey, Sarge! Been a minute!"

Tough luck. There stood Private, waiting for him in the hallway. They stood upright, proud, like they were showing off. They'd been training in his absence. He noticed. He always noticed.

…Tough luck indeed.

Jane tried his best to ignore them, hunching his shoulders and balling his fists. He couldn't face the kid. He couldn't face anyone. He was a coward.

"Hey, wait up!" Private excitedly trotted up to him, bandanna trailing quickly behind them. Once caught up, they batted the other's arm and smiled. "What's goin' on, old man?"

He couldn't explain why, but their chipperness made him angry. So deeply, deeply angry. "Don't-" He snapped, watching the lad recoil in confusion. "…Touch me."

"Who pissed in your Cheerios, man?"

They seemed offended, if not mostly bewildered at the sudden shift in behavior. Soldier had been behaving strange lately, sure, but never… hostile. Not to them.

"What's your problem?"

Jane was taken aback. "I-…"

He really wanted to tell them. Tell them that there was a chance. That they could still escape. See their family again. Hit the road with him, run away and never look back. But it wasn't like him. It wasn't like him, and he couldn't bring himself to put the same consequences on Private that he was putting on himself. He knew full well the risk he was taking. Private though…

"I can't say."

"Someone die?" They tilted their head, furrowing their eyebrows. "C'mon, now you have me curious."

Again, anger. Anger that he couldn't contain, anger at the fact that he had to lie to the only person that'd kept him sane in Dell and Yves's absence. Lie to a trainee. Lie to a friend.

He may as well have been in a pinstriped suit, dragging a cigarette like his lungs depended on it.

"I can't say, Private. Quit bothering me."

Private simply frowned. They weren't satisfied with the answer, clearly, and so Soldier did his best to veer the conversation in another direction.

"…Did you train today?" He asked, voice lowered.

"Usual regimen." They responded quickly. "20 push-ups, 10 laps, 5 of which with a bag full of beans."

His eyebrows raised facetiously. "Cans, right?"

"It was one time."

Jane couldn't help but chuckle. They tried so hard.

"Clean your guns?"

"Did that last week."

"And that room of yours?"

"Spotless, sir!"

"…Good." He finally said. He seemed listless. So weary with worry, like a father. He felt almost like a father to them. He wondered... he wondered if they felt like a son. If they ever found out, would they think he abandoned them?

They would be fine. They had to be. He had to convince himself that they would be, for the betterment of his own health. His own selfish peace of mind.

"I'm going to be gone for a while. Watch the perimeter for me, okay?" He strained.

Protect it. Please. It's my home.

"Oh, is that all? Piece of cake! When are you getting back, sir?" They bounced on their heels excitedly.

...Oh.

They were so full of life and light. Vigor. If anything was worth being that excited to fight over, it wasn't billionaires' front lawns. It wasn't too late for them, he knew that. He knew. But he also knew that they wouldn't listen. Ashel would never listen to anyone trying to change their heart's mind.

They really did want to be a hero. And they were stuck in a trench full of gravel.

He whinced. He couldn't do anything else, really.

"…Soon."

"Yeah, I can watch the base while you're gone. I'll tell Pauling you've gone and run to the hills, haha." They had no clue. Absolutely none.

"…"You're dismissed." He murmured quietly.

Jane pushed past them, feeling the cold emptiness of concrete overtake him. He felt their eyes linger on the back of his head, and then turn away after a beat. He hated to do this to the kid, but he had no choice.

He was getting old. He was getting tired. He had nephews he needed to start looking after more, and he was so angry at their neglect, so angry at the trauma they endured, so angry. So, so, so angry. He ripped open the door to his dorm and got on his knees, beside his bed, shoving things into his arms. Music boxes. A raccoon plushie. Several little gifts. A weighted blanket. A thermos.

Then, he moved. Like the walls were closing in on him, like there would be no escape if he didn't walk fast enough, out into the dirt road he drove in on and into the car he planned on stealing. His muddied boots tainted the carpeted floorboards, but he couldn't care. He had to run. He had to run before his ghosts caught up with him.

An engine revving cracked through the piney forest, and as his tires hit cracked, dusty asphault, they squealed.

[olivieraa]

actually, y'know, idek when was the last time I talked about ygo abridged

like if I happen to be on tumblr when an ep comes out I'm like *O* and I'll post about it cause to me tumblr was always a "get your feelings out in the moment" site so in those moments I'm like aaaah new ep!

but never like talk talked about it, last time would be over 10 years ago defo

honestly? its special to me. Ive a great memory but I defo struggle with this not knowing the order, so it was either a) I decided to finally watch AN ANIME for the first time ever and put on inuyasha, THEN got curious about returning to yugioh and discovered season 0 and THEN watched the abridged or b) I randomly remembered I'd never seen the end of ygo and so looked up amvs of it on youtube thus discovering ygo season 0 came first and then found the abridged through that and THEN realised I wanted to welcome anime into my life and so I started Inuyasha and sooooo on down I went, the anime road from then on

so, ygo abridged is at the beginning of that journey

at that time in my life, I was heavily struggling with ocd. and I was ditching school a lot. if I wasn't hiding in the town library for 6 hours, I was at a friends who decided to ditch with me. I had my two reliables. and we always watched the abridged together. quoted it non-stop. eventually I was dating a lad for a month, and when we broke up (he had the same friends as me), HE started quoting the abridged with them as well cause they showed it to him. made me MAD! lmao

it was also something I watched every time we went on a ride to look at houses during the recession in 2009-2010. those long drives. abridged kept me and my brother sane lol

and then cut to being online with online friends, and tumblr, we all shared the abridged love with each other.

it was just unfortunate the episodes were rarer at that point but definitely... more frequent than they are now. they were coming out prob around 4.... times a year. maybe? whereas they used to be weekly. so that was a big change.

and now they're once a year. you're lucky if there's 2.

but here's the thing.

yeah its a parody. but idk... the fact that you can just pick up where you left off every time and not be a confused mess makes me happy. the fact that the characters are so distinctive and you never forget their personality traits is amazing to me.

I'm just proud of LK bc he could have dropped it a long time ago. I've seen youtube channels have their hype years and then fans disappear CONSTANTLY. video views going from 2.5 mill to maybe 30k. it happens.

but a good chunk of people who have been watching the abridged now for 15 years now or more still get excited when a new once a year ep drops. you just pick it up, have a giggle fest, wipe away a tear and then move on. never sitting there in anticipation for the next cause you know it'll be a while. just... happy to go on youtube and see one randomly there on a random day when you're not looking for it.

it fills me with joy.

my ONLY con here is that, bruh, season 5 to me is the best ygo arc. I been wanting to see that shit abridged for soooooooooo fucking long. there's so many scenes that I wanna know what he does with. I want to see Bakura without Marik, cause LK's flaw with Bakura was that he knew how to write Marik on his own but not Bakura on his own. so I wanna see that more. I wanna see what he does with Set and Kisara, what direction he goes. I love Joey's ghost moments in the main show so I I'm hyped for that.

the sad thing about it is being hyped for something I prob wont see till.......................... 2028? 2030?

probably.

but I'll still be watching. if he makes it that far anyway <3

[hecksupremechips]

Why are we as a society not talking about guy cheerleaders????

[jaeminscoffee]

Knee highs and short skirts | N. Jm

Pairing- Na Jaemin x reader

Genre- Smut, fluff, college!au

Word count- 3.82k

Warning(s)- nsfw, softdom!Jaemin, pretty pwp, corruption kink, slight voyeurism? (they make out in public) possessiveness, dacryphilia (getting aroused by one crying or sobbing), fingering (for prep), unprotected sex (play it safe y'all this is a fiction), slightly inexperienced?reader, unintentional overstimulation (unintentional LMAOO), pretty filthy i say. Lyra back at it with smuts lol

Synopsis- It was hard to imagine that all it took was skirts and high knee socks and cute little jumpy girls for Jaemin to get highly turned on, but here we are.

Type- requested!

@kpopscape​

It was hard to imagine that all it took was skirts and high knee socks and cute little jumpy girls for Jaemin to get highly turned on. 

Watching you as you entered the campus had always been a sort of daily serotonin boost for Jaemin. More like, watching you smile and wave at every passing acquaintance regardless of the fact whether you spoke with them or not was a serotonin boost for Jaemin. You were extremely intriguing. 

You're a jolly person, an extreme extrovert, shy at first glance of course but nevertheless outgoing, you'd had little to no problem at all at making friends. Your close ones called you the human magnet and most would agree to it. Could you help it? Company is always better than being alone (unless preferred to be alone).

The first time Jaemin saw you was when you came into the campus first bumping into not his, but a very pissed Jeno's back in a very cliché way which resulted in him accidentally pour out his anger on you, which led to Jaemin having to find you later in the day to apologize on Jeno's behalf. That experience had a very interesting impression on the two lads, well, a not too positive impression on Jeno but the opposite for Jaemin. 

The next time Jaemin saw you was in his philosophy class, and god bless you and your perfect complexion complimenting all your curves and edges and oh of course, that cute black and white knee high socks that you wore with a skirt a little too short for him to stay sane and a sweatshirt loose enough to give you adorable sweater paws. That's when wanting to see you on a daily basis became Jaemin's sole reason to attend college. 

The next time was weeks into talking to each other, getting comfortable to a point where you went over to each other's house, exchanged numbers, went on small platonic dates and where your friendship started to turn into a touchy one, and you absolutely loved it. Well, Jaemin loved it more than you. Watching your face flush when he'd place his hands comfortably a little too close to there on your thigh had him feel sorts of emotions he's never felt. How your eyes would widen each time he'd place playfull kisses on your cheeks, or when he pulled you onto his lap to cuddle up closer when watching a movie or two, Jaemin lived for your reaction. 

Weeks after that was at a small dinner send off party of sort by one of your friends for the senior batch, where seeing you in a white body fitting turtleneck full sleeve with a grey skirt consisting of blue hue with a plain white knee high sock had him crave you more than before. When the occasional touches and kisses turned into a form of self destruction for Jaemin and those longing touches turned into a want to take it up a notch. 

And maybe it's the fact that Jaemin genuinely seemed intriguing to you, or the slight intoxicity you felt after a glass of not that strong of drink went down your throat, making you want to comply with everything Jaemin wanted. The expression he wore of pure bliss and satisfaction had you feeling proud of yourself. Like you're doing the right thing, like standing in a hallway beside your classmates bedroom with his hands around your waist in a vise grip, face inches away from colliding into a passionate kiss where anyone could bump into you two was a right thing to do. Like not caring about the all 'good mean no bad' girl image you'd formed to fade away in front of your classmates and probably next the entire campus was the right thing to do. 

The next time, well, this moment right now when you went over with him to his studio apartment hand in hand after evening lectures, it had been nearly impossible for Jaemin to keep his hands to himself. How your lips pucker into a pout complaining about all the workload you have, how you jump up in excitement at the sudden strike of another topic you want to discuss with him, or how you seemed so dreamy in general and all Jaemin could do was stare at you with an expression of pure admiration, desire and want to change the whole innocent image you held. 

"so Mr. Li asked him to-ah!" and all he could do was pull you onto his lap with his hand on your hip to hold you up in place and unintentionally cut your sweet voice's narration short, but he wanted to hear you more, "I'm listening, doll. Keep going"  he cooed at your flushed expression at the sudden proximity, pulling you closer to connect you two by the hip, tapping at your now exposed thighs as your skirt had ridden up at the shift in position to urge you to step out of your daze and continue speaking. 

"What.-what are you doing, Jaem?" you ask, resting your hands on his chest as you push yourself a little back to create some space, clearly astonished at the sudden spark of something at the area between your sock clad legs, only to be pulled back closer towards him once again. 

"Something I've wanted to do for a long time, keep going, baby, I'll just be doing my thing" and so you let your hand rest on his chest while continuing your story as he looked intently at you.

Being in such proximity with Jaemin had never been a new thing, it's how no matter how many times you'd see him up close you'd still can't look him straight in the eyes for more than a few seconds because of how strong his gaze is that would have you flustered. Ever since the said party, your first proper kiss and Jaemin's first step to calling you his, you wanted to stick around him and just him. You felt like yourself around him and he made you feel so loved that you were willing to let him do anything just to have him around. 

In Jaemin's case, it was that he'd not move forward with his plans if he'd noticed the slightest of discomfort in any of your actions, fearing that you'd leave him once and for all before he could even call you his. And so in that way, you two did what pleased the others the best. 

Smiling at how you slowly got comfortable with his warmth, he leaned forward, slightly startling you but you nevertheless continued speaking, "Show his homework to him, b-but he couldn't because the only co-opy he had.." you squeal in a breath as you feel his breath fan your exposed neck, courtesy of wearing a slightly deep V-neck to college and of course to the hangout that day, "Had..?" 

Jaemin rasped in a voice a little too low to what you're used to hearing, dangerously low that you felt yourself squirming under his grip, which elicits a groan from the male. Not knowing the weightage of your action, you accidentally end up doing it again as his plush lips come in contact with the sensitive skin. "H-had was.. mine-" 

"Mine, a pretty word, right doll?" The feeling of his lip moving against your skin was ticklish to describe the best, but good, good enough to have keeping your legs closed uncomfortable from the sudden pool of arousal that bedded itself in your foolishly white panties. "Yes..?" you answer with a shaky voice, moving once again to get rid of the said uncomfortable feeling which resulted in Jaemin throwing his head back to rest on the head rest of the couch, his perfect eyebrows furrowed into a frown, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

"Darling, if you keep moving like this, i won't be able to stop myself from doing what all I've imagined doing to you," he spoke with the same low voice of his, which had you unintentionally moving regardless of the empty warning that lingered in the air. That's when you notice the visible switch in the way Jaemin looked at you.  Determined to carry this forward and put an end to the friends title to develop into a whole new one.

"What you've imagined doing to me? W-wha-?" you let the question linger, not really expecting an answer when he looked at you with a smirk on his perfect lips. He let one of his hands off from your side to comb through your perfectly set hair while the other wrapped around your torso to keep you upright. 

"Should i tell you what I've imagined?" Surely fueled by desire, Jaemin still counted on your consent, basic etiquette and he wouldn't let it go down the drain just because of his lust. The silent look of curiosity gave it away that you really wanted to walk through the dream boys imagination, so you nod your head. "Words, darling. I need words"

Looking at him patiently waiting for your verbal confirmation, you swallow down the nervousness before looking him straight in the eyes with your own widened ones, "Y-yes."

"Hm, well, I imagined having you close to me, just like this, all responsive to everything I do."

"Then I imagined feeling that soft lips of yours once again, the one that I remember so vaguely. Will you let me taste it once again?" He asked, leaning in closer than what your bodies would allow, nevertheless feeling ecstatic at the effect he has on you. "Hm?" you could obviously not say no to the expression he wore, filled with excitement and expectations, happiness, desire and maybe.. love? 

Instead of answering, you lean forward, closing off the small distance that kept your bodies from colliding, pressing your lips onto his with least force. The type of kiss got both of you feeling hot, bubbly as you feel Jaemin smile against your lips. 

The kiss was a mix of aggression and passion, slow and fast, lust and innocent emotions, one strong enough to deliver all sorts of emotions and of course, sloppy out of desperation, "Still as sweet as ever," he speaks against your lips, beaming down at you with the same smile as you refuse to meet his gaze at the sudden shyness that overtook your desire. 

Jaemin's hands slip up the open clothing to grip your thigh raw, the feeling of his cold fingers making you shift position again, looking down and cowering behind your palms as you shield your heated face from the lad, "What's wrong doll?" he moves his thumb up and down, massaging the skin he had his grip on, "Talk to me, princess, do you want me to stop?" 

"No!.. I mean, n-no, it's just.. I've never done this before, ever" As though your usual behavior never gave it away that you're too innocent for anyone existing in the world, you confirm Jaemin's suspicion all the more, to which his smile only just widened, the burning desire to change the status if innocence way too strong for him to contain himself now, "I know, darling, I'll go slow, alright?"

At your nod of confirmation, he wastes no time to lift your shirt out of it's confinement inside your skirt and over your head to reveal a not so appealing bra, yet, Jaemin thought you looked absolutely exquisite in it. Just a plain white lace bra, a cherry on top to the innocent image you held that he oh so much wanted to destroy, "W-wait! Can.. C-can this..-nevermind," you sigh, not wanting to disappoint the boy in front of you at your insecurity, "Can what, baby?" you shake your head, "Tell me, love"

"Can..can the bra stay on.. Just this once..?" you ask in a soft voice as Jaemin notices your tiny gestures of an attempt to cover yourself a little, feeling a little too hot, "Do you want it to stay on?" he asks in a voice all too understanding, no signs on the disappointment you were worried about, you nod, "Then it stays on" he smiles before placing a chaste kiss at the valley of your chest and swiftly shifts you on his lap in a way that your back rest flat on his chest, a hand secured on your waist to hold you as close as possible.

You feel a sort of warmth spread through your body at Jaemin's understanding and non persistent behavior towards your request as you allow yourself to relax and go limp on his body, "Do you know how many times i've imagined this? You on my lap.." he moves his legs to break your legs apart, using his knees to spread them and hold them open, "All pretty and for me to touch," He attaches his lips to your neck once again with a better access this time as he lets his hands wander up and down your legs, the hand that held your waist moving down to bunch up your skirt and pull it up to reveal to leaking mess you'd become which made Jaemin twitch and you shy. 

"All wet for me, and for me only" you whimper at his shameless words as his wandering hands move closer to your heat, cupping it as he felt up the wetness he'd caused to form there, a throaty groan escaping him while doing so as you feel yourself jump at the friction you got for a second at the place you needed it the most. The thought of someone other than you touching your sex causing your insides to twist, in the best way possible of course. 

Jaemin resumed to feel up and down your wetness from over the fabric while still keeping his lips attached to your neck, just to make sure you were wet enough to take him, or better, his fingers. 

"J-Jaemin..," 

You let out a loud moan feeling his fingers directly over your clit once he pushed you drenched panty aside, coating his fingers with your arousal before easing one slender digit in, causing your back to arch.

Way too sensitive and aroused, it was obvious you wouldn't be long until your first high, and Jaemin knew that all too well as he felt your tight walls clench over one little finger when he started pulsing it in and out of you and a steady pace, minding to not make it too much for you, though, that thought seemed highly appealing to him, but he'd rather save it for the next time.

"Does that feel good, my love? Because watching you look all angelic like this for me is what I'd imagined next" he speaks against your hair, as you try to close in your leg at the friction you're getting suddenly becoming overwhelming for you, added to that came in Jaemin's words, talks, voice laced in adoration and pure want. "Y-yes Jaem, oh god.. "

Silently moaning himself at your godly sounds, he continues penetrating you to your first ever not self made orgasm, eliciting a loud high pitched scream from your side at the very intimidating feeling at the bottom of your stomach, feeling it undo as Jaemin coaxes your first orgasm out of you,

"Just like that darling, you're doing so well, so good for me" he coos, wanting to drag your orgasm a little more, as he lowers his unoccupied hands to draw small, slow circles around your clit, making you spasm uncontrollably over him, feeling your eyes glaze over at the now painful feeling, you push his hands meekly away from your core, 

Shocked over the fact that he got you to come for him with just a finger, he added another one in, muttering silent apologies at your sudden pleas for a break to make sure your stretched out enough for that upcoming activity, "Just a little more, my strong girl, just a little more," though sorry for dragging your orgasm, he felt himself get lost at your small sobs and tiny tears falling down the side of your face which he pecked away.

Increasing the speed of his hands, he presses his thumb over your extremely sensitive bundle of nerves once again, making your arch your back in a painful angle, the crown of your head resting on his shoulder as you shake your head at him, letting him know that it was getting too much for you to handle, 

"Come for me once again, baby. We need to make sure you're prepared enough, hm? Can you do that for me?"

As if on command, you let yourself fall apart once again, a loud cry resonating through the room along with you crunching your legs up to stop the burning from the intense high, Jaemin whispering praises against your hair while running his hand up and down your forearm to soothe you. "You did so well, doll, want to stop here?" he inquired selflessly, not caring about the fact that he's extremely hard and it had taken a painful toll.

You take a second to calm your breathing as Jaemin patiently waits for your response. Making sure your breathing is normal again, you shake your head from it's position on his shoulder as he presses a kiss onto your wet cheeks, "You need to feel good too.." you speak with your eyes barely open, Jaemin smiling softly against your cheek, "Love."

You let out a sound of confusion at the random word blurted out by him as you turn your head to look at him, "Say the word 'love' if it gets too much for you, alright?" you nod, at no further actions from his side, you look at him once again, realising he's all about the verbal confirmation, "Alright.." you squeal out, "Turn around and sit facing me, doll" he hurries.

Jaemin rushes to remove his skinny jeans alongside his boxers when you lift yourself up, letting his member stand tall and free from confinement, making him feel like he can finally breathe. Slightly intrigued by the above average size, you look at him nervously which had his head turn at your innocent expression, "We'll take it slow, darling, nothing to hurt you, hm?" you nod before replying out loud. 

He gestures for you to hover yourself above his hardness once he got the panties out of the way and discarded it somewhere out on the wooden floor of his housing. "Go for it whenever you're ready" wanting to give you full control of the pace for now, he let you take your time for your first ever time. 

Chest heaving up and down in both excitement and nervousness you slowly lower yourself, knees beside his thighs, hands a vise grip on his shoulder, letting yourself engulf just a little of his member, you wince, still a little sensitive from the previous orgasms, his hardness much thicker and bigger than his fingers to just ease down quick despite how easy it'd be considering the wet mess he'd made of you, "Jaemin.. " 

Contributing from his end, he pushes his hips up to get inside you a little more, not too fast for it to be painful for you. Slowly, you let yourself ease down on him completely, sitting down onto his lap with his dick inside of you, twitching at the warmth he finally felt. Jaemin hushes your silent cry of slight pain, "You feel so good around me, doll. Such a good girl for me, " 

You take the initiative to lift yourself up just a little so that more than half of him is out and glistening from your arousal making him let out an airy moan of satisfaction, feeling your tightness, finally after only having imagined how it felt for so long.

You move up and down slowly, thighs trembling, heart pacing fast with pride at the feeling of making him feel good from all the sounds he let out, mind hazy and body covered in sweat. "oh my, Jae-Jaem-ah!" you fall limp over his body at the sudden thrust from his end, maybe from growing too impatient. 

"Should i take it from here, darling? I need to come, will you make me come, doll?" you mumble out a bunch of 'yes!' as your face falls into the nape of his neck where you nibbled at the skin like how he'd done. 

Jaemin took control once again, a sudden burst of energy sparking through his body as he set a fast pace in pistoning in and out of you, your slickness and his precum ensuring it wouldn't be painful for you, rather, it felt extremely good. "Look at my good girl taking me so well, you're making me feel so good, darling, I'm so.. Uh, I'm so close-" 

You clench around him when you feel a knot forming once again for the third time that evening when you feel his tip brush against your sweet spot, eliciting a loud gasp from you as you bite down a little too harder than intended on his hot skin while pressing the side of your face against his broad shoulders. "Jaemin.. Jaem, I'm.. Oh god"

"I know, doll, i know.. Me too, let go for me" he holds your hips in a grip tight enough to leave a light bruise or two while reaching between your bodies to find comfort on your clit again, making you let out a choked moan as Jaemin ended up being the one doing most of the work. 

You fall off the edge once again, this time harder than the previous ones as your tears slip and fall onto his shoulder, seeping into his shirt and onto the skin, making him go faster, chasing his high while dragging yours for a second or two longer. 

"Jaem, too much..it hurts-" you sob in a whiny tone which was more than enough to throw Jaemin off his edge too, rubbing fast circles on your clit while ribbons of his essence coat your walls as he lets out a loud, long groan of your name.

He stops his moment on your clit, but continues to move slowly to draw out all the arousal from his member, only stopping when he feels himself grow soft inside of you, the feeling making you clench around him weakly which makes him jolt due to the sensitivity.

Knowing it'd only make a mess to remove himself from inside you, he decides to stay in, muttering out a series of praises that he let linger in the air. 

"That.. felt good," you speak into the silence, voice hoarse and weak, worn out from all the activity as you silently thank him for making you feel so good, a sense of accomplishment spread through his chest, finally fulfilling his wish of corrupting you, and most importantly, making you his. He kisses your forehead after pushing out strands of tresses that covered it, 

"Anything for my babygirl"

[jufebox-theghost]

Well here we are lads, it's been a year since mag 200. I would've made a post like this right after listening to the finale but it absolutely wrecked me, even now just writing this and thinking about it I'm holding back tears. Hundreds of people before me have probably said this but tma was the one thing that kept me sane and going through quarantine. Thursdays were my reason, if I tried anything I wouldn't know what the next episode would bring. These characters and the community surrounding it became my family. All of that to say thank you rq and all of the people I've built relationships with in the fandom, I love you all.

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

The Dragon’s Tale

This is the 28th time joining @flashfictionfridayofficial​! Thank you for the beautiful theme! This story is told by a water dragon. In Eastern Asia, dragons are believed to be guardians of weather and water. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 957

T/W: non

Jin (he/him): a human befriended with the dragon

I can still recall when I met Jin - this tiny, strange creature - for the first time. It was definitely a long, long time ago.  I'm sure of it since the trees surrounding my dwelling, like ancient sages, are actually the grandchildren of the trees which used to stand here. 

I occasionally indulge in reminiscence, especially when the sunshine dapples over my waterfall after the gentle rain washed the dirt away from the world. 

Jin came to my waterfall well hidden in the deep forest. Not to pay a tribute or a friendly visit, but to kill me. 

The villagers living at the fringe of the forest had been suffering from a flood, and they thought that it was caused by an 'evil dragon' dominating the forest. Jin was chosen to kill it - me - as he was the best swordsman in the village.

It was not my fault, though. I was a mere water-snake back then. Vicious floods, violent storms, harsh famine, and gracious rain - those things were decided by the higher-ups. I had to wait another 40 years to be a 'jiao,' a half-dragon, then another millennium to be a fully-grown dragon. I thought I was careful enough not to show my enormous silver-white body to anyone. However, someone saw my silhouette, deemed it belonged to a monster. 

I remember how Jin dived into my world with a glittering sword in his mouth. The sharp blade cut through the water, leaving some babbles behind. This reckless lad showed no hesitation or fear. My pure blue world was shaken to its core. I had a gut feeling that I must face this mortal being. Slithering from my hiding, I talked to his mind directly.

'Young mortal soul, drop your sword. Otherwise, the water will swallow you.'

Being caught off-guard, he gobbled water unintentionally. However, a crystal bubble I created from my breath encapsulated him before he floated upward.  

'Ugh, what is this!?' 

The sword fell off his mouth. He looked at me in surprise.

'Oh, so you are the evil lord of the forest? You are quite different from what I expected!'

Then, he added in a gentle voice.

'You don't look particularly harmful. You look like you're made of the finest silk.'

My deep sigh created ripples.

'If you seek an 'evil dragon' which brings hardship, you will never find one here. I am a mere water-snake, yet-to-be-a-dragon.' 

Jin kept silent till the echo of my sonorous voice faded away in the crystal world. Finally, he asked.

'So you are not a dragon yet. That means you have no power over the weather or rivers?' 

'Indeed.'

'How long have you been? And how long do you have to wait?'

This time, his eyes were shining with curiosity. A very strange creature. 

'460 years I spent here. Another four decades to be a half-dragon. Then another thousand years to be a dragon. Now, go back to where you belong, you frail being.' 

A sane person would leave as quickly as they could. But Jin was not, unfortunately.

'Hundreds and thousands of years? I can never take that! You must be quite lonely.' 

'We, immortals, live in a different world. A hundred-year passes in a blink of an eye.'

Jin still tried to say something, but I broke the bubble. He struggled in the middle of the thousands of scattering sparkles as he was pushed to the surface of the water. That would be the last sight of him, I thought. 

However, he came back the next day. And the day after, even though I didn't show myself again. He sang old folk songs (and it was terrible), read some poems, played pipa. He told me stories of his village, his life, his plans. What was the meaning of this? Mortal beings have a short time to live. Why was he wasting time? However, I found myself waiting for his voice floating over the cold surface of the water like a pleasant breeze. However, in his frivolous, innocent expressions, I could see a dark void, resembling bottomless water. Maybe that was what mortals call 'loneliness.'  Now and then, I started replying to him, just as the trees rustled in the wind. 

Jin's hair turned into silver-grey. His youth withered away. On the other hand, I was ready to be a half-dragon. My scales became shinier and thicker, my mane longer. 

'It's such a pity that I cannot see you turning into a half-dragon.'

His voice was shaky and weak. 

'I was happy being here. Even though I'm mortal and you are not. But I still do.' 

He coughed harshly, forcing him to stop talking. Yet, I could see what he would say next.

'Don't be silly, Jin. Be wise. You are asking me to give you the sacred water of this waterfall. I can see that.'

He smiled like a child. I could not find the dark void in him any more - his mind was like a clear, tranquil lake. 

'Yes, then I can re-incarnate and see you again, dear-yet-to-be-a-dragon.'

'But that means you'll be bound to this waterfall - and me - forever. And there is no guarantee you retain the memories of previous life or ability to see me.'

'For evermore, why not? And it doesn't matter. I'll find you.' 

A very strange creature. 

For the next hundreds of years, Jin visited me in various shapes. Sometimes, he appeared as a girl lost in the forest. Sometimes, he brought his children. He had memories occasionally, calling me from above. But most of the time, Jin lost memories. 

Yet, Jin would and will never fail to find me. 

And sing his funny songs again. 

Or maybe it is me who sings to his mind, calling out his name from afar.

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

[spookyboywhump]

SO I didn’t sleep on it uwu because I cannot sleep uwu new OC new content lads my apologies

CW: Human trafficking (I think), dehumanization

***

The young prince stood in place among the other shackled young men, lined up to be evaluated, to have their chance at being sold to a powerful man, a king no less. The boy to the right of him could’ve been no older than eighteen, he stood there trembling with fear, a soft whimper escaping his throat. The man to the left of him seemed to be close to his age, he stood still and silent, a blank look in his eyes, his shoulders sagged. He was scared for them, he was scared for each and every one of them that would be subjected to this- every one of them except himself.

He stood up straight, kept his shoulders squared back and his eyes narrowed. He was one of the lucky few who had to be gagged for this event, a leather muzzle keeping his snarky comments locked inside and keeping him from biting anybody who got close enough. Despite the fact he was dressed in rags, shackled at the wrists and ankles, and muzzled like an animal, he still intended to carry himself as the prince he was, refusing to show a shred of submission to these people in hopes he’d keep himself sane long enough to escape.

They had been instructed beforehand on how to behave when the king entered the room, to keep quiet, keep their head down and their eyes on the floor unless spoken to, and he chose to ignore the second rule. He stared straight ahead, not sparing a glance at the king as he spoke to the sellers, it sounded as though he was a frequent customer of theirs. It disgusted him more than anything, and he was sure that showed on his face. He sure hoped it did anyway.

He was towards the middle of the line, waiting patiently as the king took his time looking over the other men, occasionally making comments out loud about features he liked or outright saying that one simply “wouldn’t do”. It was only a matter of time before the king reached him, and they locked eyes right away, it was all he could do to show him he wasn’t scared of him. The man was older than him, not by much but definitely older, and there seemed to be a hint of amusement in his cold blue eyes. It only lasted a moment however, in one quick motion the king suddenly backhanded him, his head snapping to the side and the sound of the slap seeming to be the loudest thing in the room.

“Mind your manners, pet, and keep your head down.” He warned him, before simply moving on to the next man, leaving the prince to stand there seething in anger, his hands clenched into fists. He considered himself lucky that he didn’t show much interest in him, but he was still so angry over being treated this way, over the blatant disrespect he’d been given a lot lately. Were it not for the muzzle he would’ve sworn at him, it was probably best for his own safety that he’d been silenced. For now, he obeyed the ridiculous rule, keeping his head down and letting his long dark hair fall to hide his face, to hide the fury in his eyes.

The king took his time with the rest of them, considering his options carefully it seemed. He didn’t particularly care, he just wanted this to be over with, listening to his footsteps as he made his way back down the line, this time certain of who he was after. The prince’s blood ran cold when he stopped in front of him, grabbing his chin and tilting his head up, forcing him to face him.

“Tell me about this one, please?” The king said politely to one of the sellers, who hurried over to do as he was told.

“Well, your majesty, this would be Prince Kassian, of the Reyedal kingdom.” He explained, and he swore he saw the king’s eyes light up at that.

“Yes of course, the little prince.” He said, and Kassian glared at him, roughly jerking away from his grasp.

“He’s a fighter, as you can see. He swears and he bites without that muzzle, honestly he’s a bit of a nuisance.” The man said, exasperated, and he felt a small sense of pride knowing he’d made his life even slightly more difficult.

“Oh, I can train that out of him.” He said, catching Kassian’s attention as he added, “I do like a challenge, he’ll do perfectly.” He said, sparing a brief glance at the prince if only to revel in the way his eyes widened, for a moment that bravery and defiance shattered as he realized exactly what was going to happen to him from here.

As the two men discussed payment, speaking about the prince as though he were simply an object, he stood there numbly, the realization still sinking in. He’d already had his title, his status and his freedom stripped away as though it were nothing, as though he were nothing, reduced to simply being a product to be sold, a product that was being bought by a king who seemed all too eager to break him down. He didn’t spend too long letting the despair sink in however, by the time the two had come to an agreement he’d made a decision of his own.

He knew then and there, he wasn’t going to let this man break him- he knew then and there, he would die before he let that happen.

[skeezsbbygirl]

call me that too + kim seungmin

this one’s for anon who requested a seungmin scenario with a dash of oppa kink. i didn’t go too overboard hehe, just a sprinkle of a suggestive theme at the end (i’ll leave it to your imagination asdjhfrirgjgl cuz i can’t handle them feelssss ugh)

nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy! oh and thank you for the love that you guys are showing for “peaches + bang chan” uwuuuu (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

REQUEST BOX IS STILL OPEN. STREAM GOD’S MENU AND VOTE FOR OUR BOYS.

[5:12 p.m.] A yawn escaped your lips as you managed to go through all your assigned lectures for the day. You logged out from your university's portal and shut your laptop close, not wanting to stare at the bright screen any longer. You sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the drawer that contained all your caffeine-related pick-me-ups. As you were about to grab a mug, your actions were halted by your phone's ringtone, signalling a call as it rang on the coffee table from your apartment's living room. You managed to accept the call before it was dropped.

SeungMong <3

"Hey," you answered, sauntering back to the kitchen as you cradled your phone in between your right ear and shoulder to keep your hands free. "Baby, are you busy?" Seungmin asked. You shook your head but you mentally facepalmed as you remembered that the boy on the other line couldn't see you, "No. I just finished some school stuff. What's up?"

"Can you come over? Chan-hyung wants to take us out for dinner," Seungmin replied and you could faintly hear Jisung and Changbin screaming in the background -- something about Chan covering food expenses for the first time. You lightly chuckled and responded, "Yeah sure, I'll be there in twenty."

An hour passed and you were all gathered at the boys’ go-to restaurant, which was three blocks down from your university's dormitory.

"Am I dreaming?" Jisung teased as he hopped off Chan's car, Changbin and Jeongin not far behind him. “Somebody drive him back home,” Chan groaned to which the younger one giggled, jumping on his back in the process. “Hyung, come on. I was just poking fun at you,” Jisung cooed at the elder, earning him a light flick on the forehead from Chan.

You beamed at the sight of the boys playfully bickering. “Pay attention to me,” Seungmin whined and nudged your shoulder. You broke into a cheesy grin and gave his cheek a peck, “You always have my attention.”

Seungmin extended a hand towards you, to which you gladly complied, squeezing his hand three times as you intertwined your hand with his -- your silent way of saying ‘I love you’. 

Soon after, you guys were seated inside the restaurant and you fell into each of your own said conversations. 

“How was your day?” Seungmin asked as he adjusted his seat closer to yours. “Better now that I’m with you,” you said in a voice soft with affection. Seungmin chuckled, “Stop it.” You shook your head, leaning closer so that your forehead touched his. “You’re so cute,” you teased, which earned you a pout from the older male. “You do know that I’m a year older than you, right?” Seungmin bragged. You rolled your eyes, “Your point being?”

Seungmin sighed in defeat, opting to plant a kiss on your lips, but you were interrupted by multiple groans and a chorus of complains. “Get a room already!” Felix exclaimed with his hands covering his eyes, a poor attempt to discard the sight of yours and Seungmin’s “sickening” affection, as Minho described it. You stuck a tongue out at Felix, “Stop being so bitter.”

Felix faked sob and Jeongin joined in on his act, embracing the older male and patting his head.

Soon, your playful banter came to an end as your orders arrived. You guys were eating in silence, uttering a compliment here and there towards the dishes that you were served, until Hyunjin called for your attention.

“Oh, (y/n), before I forget,” the older male started, only stopping for a second to sip on his drink. “I found that outline you’ve been looking for,” he continued. “Please tell me you have it,” you pleaded, eager to finish the book review that your professor has quested upon your class a week ago. Hyunjin nodded, “The copy is in the car, I got you.”

You cheered as you reached out your hand to give him a high-five. “You’re the best, oppa.”

With your response, Hyunjin immediately side-eyed Seungmin’s reaction. He might have known something or at least sensed something, specifically when Seungmin blabbered -- well, more like ranted -- about you not calling him the said endearment you just used on Hyunjin a few seconds ago. 

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Hyunjin was an hour away from a deadline, and yes, he admits that he may have finished his project sooner, but a certain someone, who goes by the name of Jisung, decided that it would be more fun to play video games over at Felix and Changbin’s dorm. “That stupid project isn’t even due for another day. Chill out, dude,” Jisung claimed with burgeoning excitement. Instead of turning his friend down -- or better, kicking his tempting ass out of the dorm -- he caved in.

Hours later, he was cramming at least two days worth of work into an hour. Then comes your boyfriend, Seungmin. “Hyunjin!” the younger male called out from their dorm’s entrance. “In here!” Hyunjin hollered, his fingers still hot on his laptop’s keyboard, seven more questions and a descriptive about his said stand on the project, and he’ll be done -- both figuratively and literally, his brain’s slowly pan-frying itself to destruction. He mentally cursed Jisung.

“Procrastination at its finest,” Seungmin mocked as he entered Hyunjin’s room. “You can nag me later, bur right now I have to finish this and then kick Jisung’s ass,” Hyunjin said with firm persistence. The younger lad sighed and sat down on a bean bag at the corner of the room. “I don’t have the energy to nag,” Seungmin whispered, but Hyunjin still managed to catch his words. He jokingly rolled his eyes, finding slight amusement towards Seungmin’s puppy expression.

“You and (y/n), had a fight?” Hyunjin asked, his attention still on his laptop but he figured he needed Seungmin for a little background noise to keep him sane, plus the guy’s one of his best friends. “Not really,” Seungmin disagreed. “Then, what got you all gloomy?” Hyunjin insisted, but he was only met with silence.

“Seungmo, come on, spill.”

“She addresses you as an ‘oppa’,” Seungmin blurted out after a few seconds. “Who addresses me as what?” Hyunjin asked, his eyebrows contorted in confusion. “(y/n),” Seungmin answered as he buried his face in his arms. “Seungmo, you do know that she does that to everybody that’s older than her, right?” Hyunjin replied, “It’s called being polite.”

“Well, I call it being unfair.”

Hyunjin chuckled in amusement, “Please elaborate.”

“You and I are the same age, which means that I’m older than her too, but she doesn’t call me that,” Seungmin whined.

And that’s how Seungmin ended up being silent for the rest of the night. You, being unaware of the situation, shrugged it off, thinking that he was just exhausted from his vocal lessons. Until, Hyunjin decided to let you in on the puppy’s cause of gloominess.

“Here, now go ace that literature course,” Hyunjin handed you the outline he promised, giving your head a pat in the process. “Thank you, oppa.”

“One more thing, (y/n),” Hyunjin said as he leaned down and whispered, “Seungmin wants to be called that too.”

“Huh?” you turned to him in confusion, but Hyunjin just stared at you and decided that you would come into revelation in a few seconds. “Oh,” you gasped, eyes lighting up in the process. “That’s why he’s been acting weird,” you added. Hyunjin smiled in approval, “Do something and wipe that pout off his face.”

The car ride back to your dorm was silent. Seungmin kept his eyes on the road, no words were exchanged between the two of you and he clearly showed no effort of doing so any time soon. You’re slowly running out of time as your building came into view a few minutes later. Seungmin slowly stopped the car and got out, he jogged towards your side and opened the door for you.

Go time.

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Seungmin said. His expression was sad but he still managed to give you a kiss on the forehead. He was about to pull away but you prevented him from doing so by holding his face in your hands. You stared at him lovingly, thanking the universe for bringing this man into your life. 

“I love you, oppa,” you whispered, but loud enough for him to hear you. 

A soft gasp escaped from his lips as his eyes widened, “What did you just call me?”

“Oppa, why?” you giggled and gave his nose a kiss. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel like I’m on top of the world right now, but you never call me that,” Seungmin wondered, his arms now wrapped around your waist, allowing him to pull you closer. “Let’s just say, a little bird told me,” you teased.

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

You laughed, “Don’t get mad at him.”

“Listen,” you called back for his attention, “I don’t call you oppa because I use that on everybody who’s older than me, well close friends of course, but you know what I mean.”

“And you, Kim Seungmin, are not just anybody. You’re my person, my everything, my whole world. You’re special to me and you matter the most,” you explained, pouring your feelings out for the said man. You were about to say more in order to get rid of Seungmin’s doubt, but he cut you off with a kiss.

You guys were practically making out in your dormitory’s parking lot, but it’s the least of your worries right now.

You pulled away first as you tried to catch your breath. “I love you so much, (y/n),” Seungmin confessed, his expression now darker as you witnessed his eyes fill with desire. “And I’ll prove that to you.”

“What do you mean, oppa?”

Seungmin leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Don’t test me, baby.”

You whimpered in response, “Do whatever you want. I’m all yours, oppa.”

[babylooneytoonz]

Sweet Temptations - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part-2

Read Part-1 here.

Warning - SMUT

Requested by - @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @peakyfooky @bubblegumflamingos @thomashelbyswhore

You looked at your reflection in the mirror; you were glowing. Your eyelashes curled perfectly over your eyes and the corner of your cherry painted lips puckered into a smile of your own. It had been a month since you had let that blue eyed Peaky Blinders gangster bend you over your desk and fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Since then, although you hadn't met him again, he made it a point to be a part of most of the important events that you and your husband happened to be a part of.

Lingering glances were shared, lips licked fervently and the man slowly undressed you with his piercing, blue eyes, fucking you with his eyes. The way he admired the olive green dress that hung over your ample arse at the Epsom Derby, you couldn't get the look off your mind. It was tantalizing, refreshing yet scandalizing if someone was to notice, but no one did.

You had tried hard to find yourself a minute alone with the man, your carnal desires clouding over your perfectly sane, sharp mind for a bit that day but much to your dismay, Michael was glued to your side all the time, although he paid you no heed.

You were laying in your massive king sized four postered bed, revelling in the fact that your husband was out on a business trip to London and wasn't coming back home for atleast a few days. Your newly shaved legs rubbed against the soft, silken sheets, the friction causing slight irritation and inflammation but you didn't seem to mind. A lit cigarette rested in your left hand and a half empty bottle of Irish Whiskey lay on your bedside table, the tip of the bottle imprinted with your lipstick.

A loud knock on your door caused you to sharply turn your neck towards it. There was an urgency in the knock, and the knocking wasn't dying down.

"For fuck's sake, stop trying to break the damn door, will ya? I'm coming."

You slid out of bed, wrapping your robe around your body as you made your way to the door and unlocked it. One of Michael's men was standing there, his eyes thrown open, his face and his clothes covered in dried up blood. At first, you were shocked. You threw the door wide open, letting the man get in, and followed him.

"Mrs. Button, we've fucking been cornered, those fucking Blinders, they attacked the pub in London—"

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Blinders; the image of the handsome Blinder devil plastering itself to the back of your eyes like a still of a black and white movie. You wanted to smile as it felt like Tommy had after all, been true to his words. You knew he had done it for you.

Donning on a mask of sudden sadness, you blinked rapidly, hoping to get fake tears to provide a blanket of cloud to your eyes, you spoke, "Michael? What about him? Is he okay?"

"Mrs Button, the news is bad, he was shot at the back of the bloody skull."

You bit hard on your tongue; trying your best not to smile.

"And?"

"You tell us what to do, eh, you're the new boss, ain't it?" The man sluggishly replied, a tiny hint of a smile on his lips; it was ghostly, barely there, but yet you noticed it.

"Well, we plan a funeral, what else?"

He nodded, finally letting himself smirk freely around you and so did you.

These were your men now. You didn't have to be scared of a dead man anymore. He could do you no harm.

"Lad, wait."

Your voice rang out in the hallway, the moment he turned to leave. He turned towards you, blinking, waiting for your command.

"Remember the crate Michael kept hidden in the barn? That fine single malt Scotch Whiskey?"

"What of it, Mrs, er, Miss?"

"Pull out a bottle, and go celebrate with the men. And get a drink for me too, will ya?"

Your smirks matched each other's as you saw him nod briefly and leave.

Freedom felt amazing.

Thomas Shelby had not only freed you; he had also given you a chance to get everything Michael owned, down from his business to the mansion you lived in— it was all yours now.

The chill at the cemetery was biting, your long black overcoat did nothing to protect you from the frost that was causing your cheeks to wither and turn stony. You stood in a corner, a few of his men on either of your sides, heads burrowed slightly. You knew it was all an act, and the minute they stepped out of the cemetery, they would be out celebrating, for Michael was not a pleasant boss to work for. But you couldn't blame them, you felt the same.

You felt elation, you felt free and you wanted to celebrate. Worst of all, you wanted to see him.

Your Thomas Fucking Shelby—

As the coffin was lowered to the ground, and the short, bald headed priest mumbled verses from the Bible, you looked down at your feet, your mind distracted. You needed a smoke.

"Excuse me." You mumbled to the woman standing next to you, and lowering your head, you pushed your way away from the ceremony through his men, making your way up to the embalming area, to smoke. The minute you stepped into those close confines, you took off your overcoat and dumped it on a chair, straightening the crease on your black mourning dress.

The embalming area was sheeted with a blanket of quiet, a solitary confinement. This place had a lot of stories to tell perhaps, of death, of tears and of the human mortality.

Then how could a place such morose be a cause of a start of your new life? It wouldn't even have crossed your mind, but a part of you knew, death and life, there is a fine line between it. A death can pave way for a new life— the life of a newfound love, built on the extermination of your abusive husband.

You knew Tommy would come; so it wasn't a surprise to you when you whiffed his fragrance lingering in the air— of cigarettes, alcohol and a bit of mint.

"You're here, I can feel it." You whispered into the thin air, only to feel his arms creep up behind you, in a teasing manner, his fingertips trailing against the fabric of your black mourning dress. You were not this kind of woman, a woman that would rejoice in someone's death, but the countless years of torment you had seen, in the form of your now dead husband was enough to wipe off any traces of the respect you had for him in the dead form. You couldn't care less, if outside, his coffin was being lowered into the ground.

"Thank you," your whisper came out breathy, your eyes rolled back in the back of your head and slowly, you rolled yourself to face the Blinder devil, placing your hands on either of his shoulder while his hands held you tight by your hips, holding you in place.

"Hope you gave him a peaceful death." You mumbled, nuzzling your nose into the side of his cheek, his wafting fragrance seeping through your nostrils.

You heard him hum and nod, his plump lips moving along as he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, "As peaceful as that bastard deserved," he mumbled into your shoulder; in his thick brummie accent.

You stayed glued to the man like two trees rooted side by side, for a few minutes. Finally, after what felt like a short period of time, but would have probably been minutes; you reluctantly pulled away, bringing your palm to cup his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him; waiting for the minute the fireworks will erupt.

The kiss was warm, his lips plump and salty, a bit dry, owing the countless cigarettes the man smoked during the day but he knew how to make you weak in the knees but just a kiss, making you want more and more. "Oh Tommy.. Tommy.." His name slipped out of your tongue, your honey like voice repeating it as though it will fly away if you stopped saying it.

Tommy grunted in response to you dragging out his name from your lips, his arms grabbing you by your hips and lifting you up slightly. The moment your feet lifted off the ground, you locked your legs behind Tommy, who had by now seated you on the embalming slab, his hands raking over your sides, trying to feel your curves and inches.

You were panting in desire by the time you felt Tommy hoist your skirt up, running his cold fingers along your inner thigh, in a teasing manner. Your core was throbbing, your panties already soaked and waiting for him.

"Tommy please." You whined, need dripping off your lips like saliva.

"Oh the things you bloody do to me." Tommy murmured, letting his palm rub over your lips over the fabric of your panties, letting out an inaudible grunt when he felt his fingers start coating with your slick, even before he'd taken off your panties, "I haven't even done anything yet, and look at you, getting all wet for me already, yeah?"

"All you have to do is look at me like that, Mr. Shelby," You purred through pursed lips, fluttering your lashes.

"I want to do a lot more than to just look at you, love."

Tommy's hands came to rest over your shoulders, and you felt the strap of your dress slide off, letting your bare shoulders glisten under the semi lit light of the embalming room. Pressing his knee in the space between your legs, Tommy bent slightly, taking in your hard, erect nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue teasingly swipe over it before he started ravishing your nipples, one by one. Instinctively, your hands flew to his head, your fingers burrowing in his matted hair, tugging on it. You arched your needy core forward towards him, hoping that the friction and the heat from his body would provide a soothing pleasure to your aching core.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Tommy smirked, slowly letting himself drop on his knees, so your core was parallel to his face.

"Tommy, please," you pleaded, your voice heavy and coated with lust.

Your panties were tugged down, and Tommy's digits ran fervently over your entrance in a teasing manner, causing you to throw your head back and let out a whimper. His finger finally slid into you, causing you to squirm at the welcome visitor to your body.

"You like that, eh, you like being my whore?"

You bit your lip, letting your palms out of Tommy's hair as you started rubbing your own breasts in a teasing manner.

"It takes two to tango, Thomas, if I'm your whore, then what are you to me?"

Your question was buried without an answer, and you didn't ask again. But this was because you felt you had lost your capacity to think. The feeling of Tommy's lips, pressed to your core, his tongue sliding in and out of your entrance, circling around your sweet spot was too much to keep your wits. You fell backwards, spreading your legs as wide as you could, to provide the man an easy passage.

"Tommy, I'm going to —"

You felt fireworks in your body, a sudden feeling of ecstacy, of what you'd call nirvana. Your eyes clouded with pleasure as you came even before you could provide Tommy with the warning, squirting all over his face. Satisfied with himself, Tommy slowly pulled back, licking your juices off his lips; and all you could think was, how hot he looked, with your juices all over his mouth.

"I thought it will take a lot bloody more to get you to do that, love," he smirked, pulling himself back up on his feet as he unbuckled his trousers and slowly let it fall to the ground. You could already see the massive tent poking out like a mountain in his boxers so you reached out, grabbing his cock over the fabric of it, stroking it, feeling it get even harder under your touch.

"Fucking hell," he grunted, letting his eyes shut for a brief second before he tugged off his boxers and adjusted himself right at your entrance.

Your eyes met his; as though he was asking your permission. You didn't know why you did it, or why he let you do it but you leaned forward, letting your lips meet his, the exact same moment he slid his erect cock into you, slowly filling you up. It wasn't just sex, it was something much more, he was making love to you.

"Am I still your whore?" You murmured, your panting heavy and bothered.

"You'll always be my whore in bed, look at you, driving me nuts with that tight little cunt." He murmured back.

When you both finally came undone, panting and moaning and covered in sweat and each other's bodily fluids, Tommy slowly fell on you, exhausted, his eyes shut, his head buried between the crevice of your breasts. You wrapped your hand gently around his neck, holding him close. It felt strangely intimate, and strangely, you felt your heartstrings being tugged at. This was an all new feeling for you; you had never experienced anything remotely close to this.

Were you falling for him?

Or was it just lust?

What if he just left you after today?

What if you were his means of getting his stress out?

These questions that you asked yourself were enough to give you an answer for your first one.

You were falling for him. And you were scared he'll leave you. And you were scared that your heart will be ripped apart, and there will be no one to mend it.

Instinctively, you winced and pushed him off you. He was startled, confused and he followed you with his eyes. You pulled up your panties and tugged the skirt of your dress back in place and pulled the straps back up, adjusting your dress again.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"They must be looking for me, yeah?" You mumbled, absentmindedly. You couldn't, for some reason, look at him.

He didn't reply. From the corner of your ears, you heard the sound of the fabric of his trousers, that he had finally pulled back up and buttoned. He then slid on his wrinkled shirt and started shuffling through the contents of his trousers pocket to look for his packet of cigarettes.

You sighed, grabbing your box of cigarettes that was laying abandoned on the embalming table, and tossed it to him. He caught it mid air, pulling out a stick and sticking it into his mouth.

"This was just sex to you, wasn't it?" He was blunt, his voice cold, unlike what you had seen him the two times you had met him. Up close. Up front. He was now what he showed the rest of the world that he was. But his question was raw, bringing out the broken man inside him, a man who'd been trampled on, left, rejected.

"That's the funny thing, Mr. Shelby." You whispered, your voice soft, broken as you looked down at your hands, nervously fumbling with the hem of your dress, so you didn't have to meet his cold icy stare. "I wish it was just sex to me. But unfortunately, it's not. And I'm not ready to get my heart broken even before its fucking started beating again, you know?"

The man let out a soft sigh, smoke coiling around him as he exhaled and he slowly walked up to where you were standing, hesitantly.

"This has been lovely, Thomas and you have saved my life, saved me from a monster. If I can ever repay ─" Your palm mechanically flew up to his chin, slowly cupping his cheek, your thumb stroking against the side of his face. You had half expected him to move away from this affectionate embrace, but he didn't. Infact, he seemed to melt into it.

"You can repay me."

Your hand fell to your side, clenching at the fabric of your dress.

There he was, finally revealing the truth, of course he wanted something from you.

"What?" You almost snapped.

As if thinking, the man in front of you blinked , before you saw him slide his palm into his pocket and pull something out. You couldn't see it, whatever it was, was too tiny and was masked securely inside his palm, sheilded from your eyes.

"I know this is not the most appropriate places to ask, but will you marry me?"

You took a step away, or rather, your body suddenly went limp with elation. You couldn't feel your legs, it was as if your knees had turned to jelly. You'd heard it right, didn't you?

"Say that again, will ya?" You croak.

Tommy shook his head, almost faintly, with a tiny of annoyance in his eyes, but somehow he did it again. But this time, even more creatively. Your eyes widened as you saw him go down on his knees, and this time it was different. It wasn't sexual and he wasn't going to ravage your pussy with his mouth. He opened the box and in rested a beautiful diamond ring, the diamond massive enough for your heart to leap in joy. It was beautiful.

"You, Miss (Y/N) (L/N), will you finally accept my offer to marry you, yeah?"

You couldn't help but laugh. He really didn't know how to do this.

"Is this a business deal?" You chuckled, throwing your palm out that he caught with his free hand.

"A business deal for a fucking lifetime." He slowly slid the ring over your ring finger and you swear you saw a warm smile on his face, as he looked up at you, with love.

[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Author's Note: I'm posting this far later than usual because today simply got away from me. Doncha hate that???

Summary: The Company of Thorin Oakenshield reaches Mirkwood, where Thorin will offer a deal to Thranduíl on Kili’s behalf, and later on, Amara runs into an old friend who fires up Thorin’s jealous streak

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, the Company, Thranduíl, Aiduin of Mirkwood

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,205

Taggin: @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @tschrist1

As it happened, their luck, did in fact hold out over the fortnight it took for them to reach Mirkwood’s border. Thorin scowled as they stood at the Mirkwood border, where two of Thranduíl’s men stood silent sentry. He didn’t want to be there. After all, the last time he and the others found themselves in Mirkwood, spiders had tried to eat them, elves tried to kill them, and Thranduíl himself had them tossed into then dungeons. If it hadn’t been for Master Baggins, who never did explain exactly how he managed it, snagging the dungeon keys, they might still be in those tiny, damp, woodland cells.

But, the hobbit had freed them, smuggled them out in barrels, in which they bounced about like corks tossed on the river’s swift current, battling not only the elves trying to stop them, but the orcs sent to hunt Thorin himself.

He looked over at Kili, whose eyes practically gleamed at the sight of the wood. It was because of this place he’d met Tauriel, the she-elf who’d saved his skin the first time. Saved his skin and apparently won his heart. Although Kili rarely spoke of her, Thorin had the feeling he knew exactly what went through his nephew’s mind. Most likely the same thing that went through his own mind whenever he looked at Amara.

Which was why they were at Thranduíl’s front door. As much as it would pain him—and it would definitely pain him—Thorin would willingly gift the Seven Stars of Middle Earth necklace to Thranduíl if it meant Thranduíl would give his blessing for Kili to court Tauriel. The same blasted necklace that kept the woodland elves from aiding Erebor in its time of need, that caused Thranduíl to threaten Erebor with what became the Battle of the Five Armies, would find its way to Mirkwood, no matter how much Thorin hated to do it. He had no love lost for Thranduíl and knew the feeling was mutual, but he’d put aside his own dislike and distrust of the Elf King if it mean Kili would find the same happiness with Tauriel that he’d found with Amara.

With that, he climbed down from his saddle and stepped up to the sentries. “Thorin Oakenshield to see Thranduíl.”

“Does His Highness expect you?”

He shook his head. “He does not, no. But tell him I have something he wants and I am willing to discuss parting with it.”

The two sentries looked at one another, then the shorter of the two turned as the doors opened noiseless, and disappeared inside.

Thorin stared down the second sentry. He didn’t like being in Mirkwood. The air was heavy with apprehension and dread, its waters were enchanted with what some considered black magic, and the spiders alone were enough to make him want to avoid the woods with ever fiber of his being, for they were no ordinary spiders. They were big enough to hunt man, dwarf, and elf, and did so without impunity. Even from where he stood, at the edge the wood and vine bridge that would lead them into the Kingdom of Mirkwood, he could see the wispy white spiderwebs in the distance. Just the sight of them was enough to bring back the claustrophobic feeling of being wrapped in one of their cocoons.

He fought off a shiver as the memory of being wrapped so suffocatingly tight, of being unable to move much more than a finger or a toe, rushing to the forefront of his mind. Again, if it hadn’t been for Master Baggins and his sword—which he’d dubbed Sting—they might not have survived long enough to find their way into those dungeons.

“What is taking so long?” Dwalin grumbled from his saddle.

“I am certain Thranduíl is trying to come up with some reason to deny us entry,” Thorin told him over one shoulder, “all the while his curiosity kills him because he knows he’ll not be able to.”

“I say we keep moving,” Dwalin countered. “Why are we even here?”

Thorin grinned at Kili. “Do you wish to explain or should I?”

Kili held his stare easily. “I am not the one who always railed about how untrustworthy elves were. I do believe that was you, Uncle.” He winked. “Tell me, do you still feel that way?”

He asked it with all the innocence one could put into a sentence and Thorin’s grin faded as the others all snickered. “Enjoy your laugh at my expense,” he growled, looking from one dwarf to the next, finally letting his gaze land on Kili once more. “But, remember, I have something he wants. So, I’d think twice about baiting me, Kili, since I’ve yet to actually give him what it is he covets. And if I decide to keep it for myself, you will most likely not be welcome here again.”

Kili’s face went red as the others now turned their snickers in his direction. Dwalin laughed the loudest. “Last time ye blushed tha’ bad, laddie, was when ye mistook an elf-lad for an elf-maiden.”

Now even the sentry grinned as Kili’s face went redder still. From the corner of his eye, Thorin saw Amara shake her head and he almost smiled when she said, “To be fair, it is sometimes difficult to tell them apart.”

Kili smiled at her. “Let them have their fun.” He looked back at Thorin. “I won’t have to eat any words.”

Now, Thorin smiled over his shoulder at her. “I don’t mind eating these words.”

“Mr. Oakenshield,” the first sentry returned, his expression neutral, “My Lord Thranduíl will see you. Follow me. Edyrm will see your ponies to the stables.”

The others dismounted and Thorin didn’t miss how Edrym’s gaze lingered on Amara. Thorin said nothing, but reached out to link his fingers with hers. “She’s with me.”

“Thorin!” Amara whispered.

“What? I’m merely stating a fact. You are with me.”

“I know that, but he does not care one way or the other.”

He shrugged. “I take no chances.”

She said nothing, but he didn’t miss how she rolled her eyes. Well, let her. He cared not. He had no problem making it perfectly clear to any curious elf that Amara was with him. Childish, perhaps, but he rather enjoyed knowing that they would at that moment be wishing they were him. And sane man—be they Man, elf, or dwarf—would want to be in his boots.

They followed their guide into Thranduíl’s palace. Unlike Rivendell, Thorin found no peace or tranquility in Mirkwood. Everything was dark, earthy tones of brown, beiges, red and gold, with hints of green here and there. The air felt heavy and thick, damp from all of the roots and vines that made up the palace walls. The walkways were wide, open of both sides, with what looked like endless drops on either side. Nothing had changed since the last time he stood in the throne room, where the Woodland Realm’s king sat perched high atop his throne.

Unlike the Rivendell king, Thranduíl was tall and lanky, with sleek almost-white blonde hair and wide, almost clear blue eyes. He wore a crown woven of golden twigs and leaves encrusted with gold and brown polished stones that changed color depending on how the light—what light there was—bounced off them. He wore long, flowing robes of gold over green, and two slender fingers on each hand bore rings of the same gold and brown stones in his crown.

Those blue eyes were not the least bit friendly as he peered down at them now. “Thorin Oakenshield. It has been some time since we last spoke. I believe I’d had you dragged off to rot in my dungeon, hadn’t I?”

“The dungeons from which I promptly escaped,” he retorted, unable to hold back his smirk.

Thranduíl offered up a bland smile. “Your hobbit friend had more to do with that than you did, did he not?”

“Be that as it may, I still escaped.”

“And then, of course, there was my visit to your doorstep.” Thranduíl’s voice grew colder, if that was even possible. “When you opted for war over negotiation.”

“I was not myself then.” Thorin cast a quick, sideline glance at Amara, whose hand tightened about his ever so slightly.

The Elvenking’s expression turned sympathetic, but only for a moment or two, then his face slid back into its impassive mask.

“So, what brings you and your—” Thranduíl’s piercing gaze slid about the others gathered around him, lingering on Amara just as Edrym’s did—“company, to my realm?”

Thorin glanced over at Kili, whose color had returned to normal, and said, “I come to you with a business proposition. One I’d rather discuss one on one with you.”

Thranduíl’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so? The last time you were in my chambers, you thought to insult me. Then, you challenged me to war.”

A bit of heat came to Thorin’s face and he fought the urge to look over at his company. He’d said the same thing to Thranduíl that he’d insulted Amara with when they’d first met. “Our meeting last time was a bit—ah—tense, on account of not only had we had the pleasure of dealing with your spiders, but then we were, for all intents and purposes, treated as prisoners.”

“You were, if I recall,” Thranduíl reminded him, his voice void of any emotion whatsoever, “trespassing in my woods. Of course you were treated as prisoners. As for the spiders, they are not mine.”

“Oh, for the love of—“ Dwalin growled, but Thorin cut him off.

“Hush,” he snapped, without looking at Dwalin. To Thranduíl, he said, “Even so, I do have something I think you would be interested in and I am willing to bargain for something in return. But, I’d rather do so privately.”

Thranduíl’s lips disappeared into a thin white line and the slender fingers slowly fanned across the arm of his wooded throne. Then, he nodded. “Very well. Lorsan, show our guests to the dining hall and make certain they have something to eat and drink. Then, you may show them to the guest chambers,” those eyes flicked back to Thorin, “as I assume you will wish to pass the night.”

The last thing he wanted was to try to sleep in this tangle of vines and roots, but since he very well couldn’t say that, he nodded. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

He turned to Amara. “I will join you all when I’ve finished here.”

She looked up at Thranduíl, then back at him. “Why do you look so serious? Is something the matter?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, catching her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m about to throw myself on my proverbial sword for Kili and I think I’ll have but one chance to get it right.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Tauriel?”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, good luck.” She bent to brush his cheek with her lips, a hint of laughter in her voice as she murmured, “Remember, be nice.”

“Am I ever not nice?”

She pulled away, one brow arched, “Ish kakfe—”

“Unfair. You said yourself I was in unimaginable pain and so could not be held—”

“I did and you were. Just tread carefully. Elves are vain and Thranduíl more so than most.” She patted his shoulder and followed after Balin, who waited as the rest of the dwarves filed out of the throne room.

Thorin turned back to the Elven King, who now stood atop his high dais. With extreme care, so as not to trip over his robes, he slowly descended and swept toward him. “What is this about? You seemed quite adamant that you were interested only in war the last time we met.”

“Nearly dying has a way of changing the way one looks at things,” Thorin replied evenly. “I have had time enough to reflect on my actions and the mistakes I made leading up to the battle. And now, I’ve come to rectify those mistakes.”

“Have you?” A hint of amusement wove into Thranduíl’s voice, his gaze direct and unwavering. “And if your terms do not interest me?”

“They will.”

Lorsan led the group down deeper into the palace, where the air felt even colder and damper, and smelled of moss and rainwater. Amara shivered from the dampness, wrapping her arms about herself and rubbing her upper arms to try to warm herself, for all the good it did.

The others didn’t seem to notice the dank chill. Either that, or they didn’t care, for they chatted amongst themselves. She lingered behind them, looking about at how the roots from the trees of Mirkwood wove through one another to make the walls of the palace below.

“Amara?”

She froze at the soft, smooth voice that skimmed over her ears like satin. She knew that voice—or had known it, was more accurate—and when she turned and spotted the tall, slender he-elf, with the shimmering blond hair and eyes that were almost as dark as freshly watered soil, her smile rose of its own. “Aiduin?”

“You do remember me.”

“As if I could forget,” she said with a laugh as he caught up to her and threw his arms about her. “How are you?”

“I was fine but now, I think it safe to say I am even better! What brings you to Mirkwood?”

“She’s with us,” Dwalin growled, coming up behind her. “And it would be in yer best interest, laddie, to take yer hands from her.”

Aiduin’s eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon?”

Dwalin none-too-gently knocked Aiduin’s arms from either side of her. “There. Was tha’ simple enough for ye?”

“Dwalin!” She glared at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Thorin won’t like another man putting his hands on ye.” Dwalin glared at Aiduin. “He won’t like it a’tall.”

“Thorin?” Aiduin turned his puzzled look to her. “Oakenshield? You’re with him?”

She nodded, but before she could say anything, Dwalin cut in with, “She’s his intended. So, if I were ye, I’d make myself scarce before he sees you.”

“Dwalin!” Amara gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s enough.”

She turned back to Aiduin. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d decided you were going to strike out for parts unknown?”

“Miss Amara,” Balin stepped up alongside his brother, “you should come along.”

“You all go on ahead and I will catch up in a few minutes.” She gestured to Aiduin. “He is but an old friend and I’d like to catch up with him.”

Balin and Dwalin both frowned, which made her frown right back at them. “Do not look at me that way. Go.”

“Thorin won’t like this.”

“Why? There is nothing to like or dislike. Aiduin is, as I said, an old friend.”

Balin shook his head. “Very well. But—”

“If you say Thorin will not like it again, I’m going to scream,” she replied politely, but firmly. “Thorin will not care. Why should he?”

The brothers exchanged looks and she rolled her eyes. Then, she tucked her arm through Aiduin’s and said, “We have some catching up to do, don’t we?”

Aidiun didn’t look so certain. “Your friends don’t seem to think it wise.”

“It is fine. Besides, I’ve had only them for company for a fortnight. Now it is time for me to spend time with someone else for a change.” She smiled up at him. “So, shall we?”

Aiduin led her away from the grumbling dwarves, and she tried to ignore the nagging feeling that Thorin would indeed disapprove of her going off with another elf. But Aiduin wasn’t simply any other elf. He’d trained in Rivendell with her, before striking out for those parts unknown. How he came to be in Mirkwood was something she wished to know.

“Your friends seem to think you are going to get in trouble.”

She sighed softly. “They worry. They mean well, but at times, they can be overbearing. So,” she looked up at him, “do tell how you came to be here?”

“It’s quite simple. Mirkwood needed a healer. I needed work. Thranduíl took a liking to me and here I am. How about you? Are you still in residence in Rivendell? Or do you now wander like the dwarves?”

She smiled as they strolled along an open walkway, away from the palace and into the woods. It didn’t feel quite so suffocating out in the forest itself. “I wander with the dwarves now,” she told him as they stopped near a small pool. Trees alive and dead were all around, fallen over the pathway, vines doing their best to reclaim them. “Although, wander is not the correct term, I suppose. I’m journeying to Erebor.”

“As their healer?”

She shook her head. “No. Thorin and I… We are to be married.”

Aiduin’s smile faded, but only just. Then, he caught it and it returned in full force. “You are betrothed to a dwarf? I am not so certain I believe that.”

“Why? Why could I not be betrothed to one?”

“Well, because… he’s a dwarf. And you, Amara… you could have any elf you wished. If you set your sights on him, even Thranduíl would be unable to resist you.”

“I am hardly interested in Thranduíl.” She let out a laugh then, lightly punched him in the arm. “But I am interested int what you’ve been doing. So, do tell.”

“Me? Not much, I’m afraid. I told you, I wandered about here and there, and needed work, so here I am.” Aiduin shook his head. “Hardly a fascinating tale.”

“Oh, but to one who’s never been beyond Rivendell’s borders, your vagabond life is utterly fascinating to me.”

“Really? It’s a lot of traveling, sleeping in strange places, and never knowing where your next meal is coming from.”

“Ah,” she laughed, “a true vagabond.”

“More or less.” He leaned against the low wall of woven branches. “Do tell me, how is Rivendell?”

She hesitated, a feeling of homesickness rising to squeeze her heart. “It was fine when I left. I was fortunate in that my replacement was right under my nose, and a pleasant surprise as well. Lord Elrond is the same as always, although he was a bit weary from having so many dwarves in residence.” She looked off in the direction the dining hall, where muffled shouts and laughter floated from. “They are a lively group, you know. Very high-spirited.”

“And how did a dwarf win your hand? This I must know.”

“He and his nephews came to us gravely wounded.” She turned back to meet his gaze. “The Battle of the Five Armies, you know.”

“I heard about it, yes. These are Erebor dwarves or Iron Hill dwarves?”

“Erebor.” She reached up to touch the braid Thorin had woven in her hair, her fingertip tracing along the ornament. “Thorin is their king.”

“A king?” Aiduin’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”

“It is. But he nearly lost his life at Ravenhill. Azog the Defiler ran him through.”

“He is fortunate he found his way into your Healing Room.”

She sighed softly, still tracing the ornament as she remembered that very first day, when the attendants brought Thorin into her Healing Room. “I didn’t think he would survive that night, to be honest. The sheets over and beneath him were absolutely soaked in his blood, it had soaked through his clothes, the mail he wore, and he was so deathly pale.

“But,” she lowered her hand, clasping it with her other one, “dwarves are strong and they are fighters and he held on. No matter what setback he faced, what challenges he had—and there were quite a few—he met them head on and beat them.”

“He sounds very lucky.”

She nodded. “He was. Mahal was on his side.”

“I think it’s more he was in the best of hands.”

A pleased heat stung her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t know about that, though I thank you just the same. But he’s of the line of Durin and Durin’s Folk are strong. I think he would have lived regardless.”

“So,” Aiduin looked over at her, “what brings you all here? I should think you would be making for Erebor.”

“We are, but Thorin’s nephew, Kili, is sweet on an elf named Tauriel. Because of her—“

“Tauriel? The captain of the guard?”

Amara shrugged. “I don’t know. Is there more than one Tauriel here?”

“Well, no, but I thought she was sweet on Legolas.”

“Legolas?”

“King Thranduíl’s son.”

“Oh.” She didn’t quite know how to respond to that, for she didn’t know if Kili knew about Legolas.

“Amara?”

She looked over and smiled as Thorin strode toward them. “How did your meet with Thranduíl go?”

“Fine, thank you.” Thorin didn’t return her smile and in fact, glared at Aiduin as he said, “I thought you’d be with the others.”

“Well, I would have, but then I bumped into Aiduin.” She slid her arm through Thorin’s and said, “Thorin Oakenshield, this is Aiduin Drannor. Aiduin, this is Thorin Oakenshield.”

Aiduin smiled and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Indeed.” Thorin didn’t take his hand. He didn’t smile. In fact, she could almost feel the hostility radiating from him. “How do you and Amara know one another?”

“We trained together in Rivendell,” Aiduin replied, lowering his hand. “She was Ilyana’s star pupil.”

“Oh, hardly. You were far more skilled than I.”

Thorin’s arm stiffened against her. “We should join the others.”

With that, he turned and gave a sharp tug on her arm to pull her back toward the dining hall. She peered back over her shoulder at Aiduin, who stood there almost dumbfounded. “Thorin, that was rude.”

“Ask me if I care,” he growled, guiding her back along the walkway.

“What is the matter? I was only talking to him.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“Didn’t like the way he—“ she rolled her eyes—“and how was he looking at me?”

“As if he was trying to picture you naked.”

“Thorin!”

“What?” He glanced at her. “He was.”

“That is ridiculous. He is a friend and that’s it.”

“I’ve never heard you mention him.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in years, so…”

“Trust me, I know what I saw.”

By then, they’d reached the dining hall and she yanked her arm from his grasp. “You are being ridiculous, do you know that?”

“Am I? I should think I know a look like that when I see it.”

“You are and I am done discussing it. He's a friend. No more and no less.” She moved down and sank onto the bench beside Dwalin.

Thorin followed her, sitting across from her. “Do you want to know how I know how he was looking at you?”

“No.” She glared at him. “I don’t, really. Because this entire conversation is silly.”

“Too bad, because I’m going to tell you.” He cast a sidelong glance at Dwalin, who shrugged and did not look away.

“I am not having this discussion here.”

“Fine.” He rose and came around to her side. “Walk with me, then.”

Mindful of the eyes on them, she sighed and stood. “Very well. But I think you are being ridiculous.”

“So you’ve said. Excuse us,” he said to the others, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back as he guided her toward the far end of the dining hall, where the room opened to another walkway.

Once they were out of earshot of everyone, he turned to her. “Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Because I am fairly certain it’s the same way I look at you.”

She just stared at him, her irritation draining away as she moved to slip her arms about his neck. “Thorin, he is but a friend. And even if he is looking at me that way, you can be certain I am not looking at him that way.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Thorin.”

“I don’t. And if it weren’t for the fact that we are all worn out from traveling here, I would say we were leaving this evening. But I have to admit, I’m looking forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed this night and one that has no questionable smells or stains or extra dwarves. We can leave at first light come the morning.”

She smiled. The last inn before Mirkwood had been nothing short of a horror, as the innkeeper had only three rooms for the fourteen of them and she and Thorin shared theirs with Fili, Kili, and Bofur. “No. This evening, we should have some peace. Did you know Bofur sings in his sleep?”

“I did, actually.” He sighed softly, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. “I’ve no wish to fight with you, amrâlimê.”

“Nor I with you.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “And you’ve nothing to worry about, you know. Maralmizu, Mr. Oakenshield. Nalish.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes softened and he murmured, “Maralmizi, kurdelê.”

Disaster averted.

[finewalls]

Tell me about your experience joining this cult and how much it's brainwashed you 🥺

Well it all started back in 2011 when I was only a wee lad. A certain boy band was brought to my attention and boy was I hooked. ( I’d like to keep the name of this band concealed for privacy reasons.) 

It started innocently, just listening to their first single, and viewing their music video for it, repeatedly. Then another song, another video, and finally the album. Now this is probably the turning point in my life, as it was early 2012 when a friend of mine introduced me to tumblr.com and to this so called ‘’[ship name redacted] organization’’. I was shown so many pictures and videos and let me tell you I was easily convinced. That was my first experience with the brainwashing cult.

First they would feed me pictures of these two boys, making me believe they were a couple. And I believed it all, the brainwashing was indeed effective. Whenever I would break out from their trance, or find any way out, they would just push me deeper into the cult. 

Now I am proud to say I managed to keep myself sane through most of it, even if I was fully convinced of their stories and gay theories. Through the next 3 years I was part of the cult but kept my eyes somewhat open. Then we hit 2016. 

The certain band I was talking about ended up going on hiatus at the end of 2015 which meant I finally had the change to exit the cult and break free from their madness. I successfully removed myself from the band altogether, I needed a clean break. The next year I kept tabs on things, checking up on band members and such, but I am ashamed to admit, I also kept checking on the cult sometimes... through twitter.

Now skip ahead to 2018. I had been away from tumblr.com for few years, when a memory resurfaced. The first ever post my friend has showed me was back in my mind. Now I couldn’t sleep until I found that post again, so there I was, ready to deep dive yet again. I knew I was entering dangerous territory. What if the cultist find me here lurking and lure me in again? Could I risk it? But the post kept haunting me, I had to make sure my memories didn’t fail me. So into the deep blue net I went. and sure enough, the brainwashers popped up.

I thought I was strong enough to ignore their temptations. I was sure I wouldn’t fall into the cult again, I couldn’t allow that to happen to me. But I was wrong, oh so very wrong.

First it was the post. Then the recommended posts. Then the videos came in, then the compilations, then the TOP 30 videos and lists and stories. Suddenly I’m shown fan fiction, and fan art and illusions on top of everything. I was drowning in this madness, I could find my way out, the cult has me in their grasp. I was still fighting the urge to enter tumblr again, as I knew one login meant lifetime of living in a cult, brainwashed to the point I couldn’t tell fiction from reality. But I knew, at that point I already knew, it was too late for me. I was back where I once were before. Locked in this organization, brainwashed daily.

Once I was back in I noticed things have changed since the last time I was in here. It wasn’t just brainwashing to believe two men were in love, they convinced me that I am a man. And I knew I wasn’t the only one force to undergo that change. Everyone who 4 years ago swore they were cishet are now suddenly every letter of the alphabet mafia. It was at this point I was deep in it now, and there was no way out.

It’s been 3 years since my final fall. I have been trapped in this cult 8 years of my life in total. Even though I am aware that the information fed to me isn’t to be trusted and I know I have been brainwashed to believe everything, I cannot stop believing them. I am trapped and I don’t know my way out. I don’t want to find my way out. The cult has become my family, my home. I cannot save myself anymore, but it’s not too late for others. Stay vigilant. Stay safe. 

[footywritingworks]

Red Lipstick On Him {Trent Alexander-Arnold}

For my dear @marcdurm. Yes I wrote it for you so I hope you like it 😂😘

Also I’m not that good at writing smut but I hope it’s still good enough

Word count: 3.9k

Leaning over the bathroom counter of the hotel room, you applied the last bits of make up to your face. You rounded it up with your favourite lipstick, a bright red shade suiting the dress you were wearing. The red, floor length gown with a slit on the side hugged your curves just right, the small gemstones stitched onto the fabric made the dress sparkle with every movement you made.

Being in Paris with Trent was something very special, especially in these conditions. He had the season of a lifetime, being the best player he could be, resulting in him being nominated for the Ballon d’or. You were incredibly proud of him. It wasn’t easy being with him. He took losses really personal and beat himself up if he didn’t play that well. But you stayed by his side, heeding him up and helping him out of the hole he sometimes buried himself in. He always said that you were the thing keeping him sane and grounded. But of course you knew it wasn’t just you. It was also the support and love he got from his family and friends that kept him the same Liverpool lad he always was.

The anticipation made you nervous, making yourself fidgety and playing with the engagement ring on your hand. Tonight was really big and you hoped to be able to celebrate something later tonight with Trent. Which is why you brought his favourite set of lingerie to Paris with you. Just like your lipstick and dress it was red, almost like the jerseys of Liverpool. There was no denying that Trent adored the colour red on you. You bought it for their first champions league win and it’s been his favourite ever since, even tho he had to rebuy the panties from time to time because he ripped them off of your body.

You got out of the bathroom and stepped into the bedroom when you saw Trent. You knew he always looked gorgeous no matter what he wore, but seeing him in a suit was a whole different level of handsome. He was wearing a back suit with a vest and a bow around his neck. The material was tight around his arms, making his muscles more visible. He looked broader in general with his shoulder looking even wider than before. He wore the silver watch you bought him for your last anniversary around his wrist. He looked truly incredible. Your mind was already making up scenarios on how you could get this suit off him and have your way with him. Goosebumps rose up all over your skin and a burning heat traveled south. You wanted him. You wanted him so desperately.

When Trent saw you his jaw dropped. He never had seen that dress before and it made you look like a goddess ready to take him with you wherever your heart desired. He came up to you with a huge smile on his face, his arms wrapping around you. He pulled you close, wanting to kiss you but you turned your head so his lips landed on your cheek.

“Lipstick, Trent. No kisses until the after party.”

He pulled away pouting and giving you the ‘are you serious’ look. He wasn’t pleased with you not kissing him and as much as he loved the red lipstick, he would much rather see it smeared around from passionate kisses. You gave him a small smile and stroked his cheek while the other hand grabbed for his and began to pull him to the door.

“Come on T. The faster we go, the faster we will be back. And then you can ruin my lipstick all you want.”

The gala was a great experience. Seeing all these football stars upclose was something you couldn’t get used to even after being with Trent for so long. You were almost bursting with pride when Trent was declared best player of the season and won the Ballon d’or. Tears were forming in your eyes as he walked up to the stage to get his well deserved trophy. You really had something to celebrate tonight. You really had something to celebrate tonight, first at the after party and hopefully later in the hotel on your own.

The after party was held in a big ballroom with chandeliers on the ceiling and golden decorations. It looked really fancy, much fancier than what you were used to. There was a buffet full of snacks and some people were going around with plates full of Champaign flutes. Trent grabbed one for you both and lead you to some of the England lads that were also nominated and so at the after party as well. You were mingling for a couple of hours, you getting a little tipsy from the Champaign you kept drinking.

You were giggling quietly, pushing yourself closer to Trent. His arm was wrapped around your waist the whole night, showing you were his missus and that you were the one always supporting him. But the more you drank the tighter his grip on your waist got. You were used to Trent getting more possessive when he was drunk but tonight it only made the fire inside you burn even stronger, making your need almost desperate. The couple in front of you was engrossed in their own conversation which gave Trent the opportunity to lean down to your height, whispering in your ear.

“You don’t know what you do to me baby girl. If we were alone you can bet I would rip this dress off your body and fuck you until you couldn’t anything else but my name. I’d make you cum until you can’t anymore.”

His words were the last straw for you, every considerate thought was thrown out of the window, leaving you with the burning heat in your body. Your skin was tingling and the muscles of your core clenched around nothing, making almost painful not to have him inside of you. He pulled away with a smirk on his face. He knew what he was doing to you. You lost your patience and pushed yourself on your tippy toes, so now you were face to face with him.

“Please, Trent. Do it. I want you to ruin me. Right here, at this party.”

You clung to his body, your thigh rubbing against his crotch, feeling a bulge growing. Trent was still smirking, pulling you closer so your body was pressed against his.

“Oh, baby girl. I won’t fuck you here. I would have to do it fast and you would have to be quiet and we both know you’re not one to stay quiet. Besides, I want to take my time with you.”

You were basically begging him with your eyes but he stayed strong. So you tried the last thing on your mind.

“Baby. Let me at least suck your cock. You deserve it. Please.”

Your last words were barely a whisper but they affected Trent in the biggest way possible. He held back a groan and grabbed your hand, pulling you to the toilets. People were dancing and the music was loudly playing, so no one noticed you making your way into the woman’s bathroom together.

He was pulling you into a free bathroom stall, locking it behind you while you got on your knees, the red dress falling around you. Trent leaned against the wall while you unbuckled his belt and opened his dress pants. You pulled down his pants with his underwear and your mouth watered at the sight of his cock springing up against this stomach.

You took him in your hand and pulled him to your mouth. You licked over his head, which made Trent let out a deep moan. You pulled away and spat into your hand before moving it up and down his shaft, your spit acting as a lubricant.

Trent began to groan when you took his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue over his skin before taking him even deeper. You felt him reach the back of your throat with your hand still pumping the inches you couldn't fit inside. Your gag reflex kicked in, your throat constricting around his cock. He seemed to feel good, his hips bucking into your mouth and his moans growing louder. You pulled away and looked up at him. He swore he could cum from just looking at you like this. Lips swollen, eyes slightly red and a string of spit still connected to his cock. He could see some marks of your lipstick on the skin. How much he loved that fucking lipstick.

"Shhh baby. Be quiet. Don't want me to stop, do you?"

Trent furrowed his brows. You wouldn't dare. He grabbed your head at the back of your neck to tilt your head upwards. You loved when he was dominant like this. It made your whole body tingle and you felt your panties get wetter by the second.

"Don't be naughty baby girl. Or I will have to punish you."

And then he pulled your mouth back on his cock, encouraging you to continue to suck him off. He was getting closer and closer to the edge. His breaths came out sharply and you could see his chest rising and falling rapidly under his dress shirt. And then he came with a groan as his hips bucked into your mouth as he emptied himself inside of your mouth. You swallowed and licked him clean before you stood up again to press a kiss against Trents lips. He pulled himself back inside his pants and smiled brightly at you.

"You make me crazy, you know that? I love you so much."

You smiled at him. It almost seemed unreal to love someone as much as you loved each other. But you and Trent made it possible. Many people told you that what you two had was something really special. His parent were especially happy for you two, claiming you had 'heart eyes' when you looked at each other or one of you was just as much as mentioned to each other. It all seemed like your own little fairytale with you being the princess and Trent being your prince.

You pulled him close to you by his shirt and have him one last passionate kiss before turning to the bathroom mirror to make yourself look presentable again. When you were done Trent took your hand and led you back to the ballroom. You each took one glass of champagne and got back to conversing with other people.

All throughout the evening you and Trent were getting more and more to drink. You were dancing and laughing and just having a good time. Little did you know there would be tabloid articles gushing about how adorable and perfect for each other you two were and how you were one of the Top 3 power couples Liverpool had ever seen.

Around 4am you were on the way back to the hotel, the taxi almost gliding through the streets of Paris. You were cuddling up to Trent, your legs touching and your head laying on his shoulder. His hand was laying on your thigh, caressing your skin that peaked through the slit of your dress. Your head rolled back so you could look up at him. His eyes sparkled and his smile made you feel the love you had for each other. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you closed your eyes by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"I love you Trent. So much."

Trent leaned down to kiss your lips and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered like they always did when he was around. Like they always would. A lifetime without, without his love, was unimaginable for you. It would be unbearable. You wanted him to be your husband and have children running around your garden, the perfect mix of the two of you.

"I love you too. More than anything."

His voice send electric sparks through your body and your core clenched around air once again. His voice was raspy and deep, almost sounding like his morning voice. The need inside you growing more and more. You let out a whine, hoping Trent would understand what you wanted from him. He thankfully did and inched his hand considerably closer to the inside of your thigh also going up on you leg. He was what felt like mere inches away from your pussy. You were writhing already, trying to relieve the pressure by pressing your thighs closer together. But Trent pried your legs open and put his and over your already wet panties, which made you let out a breathy moan. If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would be embarrassed about how you were acting, but right now you couldn’t think about anything else but him.

„Do you want me that bad, babygirl? You’re soaked.“

His words were a hot whisper in your ear and you couldn’t wait to finally get inside the hotel so he could have his way with you. His hand now moved up and slid inside your panties. It slightly relieved your need but it also made you even more frustrated. His hand just laid there, without moving, his fingertips brushing over your clit every time the car shook from the pavement. On his face was a big smirk that drove you crazy. He always did that. He used every possible opportunity to tease you in public. You should be used to it by now but it only got worse the more he did it.

Finally the taxi stopped at the hotel and Trent took his hand out of your panties to pay the driver. He got out first and walked around the car to open the door for you. He held his hand out and helped you step out of the car yourself, the same smirk still evident on his face. He looked so cheeky, like a child who took some candy without their mother noticing. It made you only more frustrated.

He put his hand on the small of your back and led you into the hotel. His hand felt like it was burning on your skin and it was tingling with anticipation. All hairs stood on your body ready for any kind of touch he'd give you. Your own arm wrapped around his waist so you could push yourself closer to him. His bodyheat radiated off him and it was like you were both burning for each others touch.

You passed the nightguard on your way to the elevator, wishing him a calm and good night. He gave you a smile and nodded to you.

"You too, Mr and Mrs Alexander-Arnold."

Your face instantly became red, the blush rising up from your neck to your cheeks. Even after being together for so long and being engaged for a little while you still blushed whenever someone thought you were his wife already. You'd have to get used to this in the future.

You stepped into the elevator and he pressed the button for your floor. Just as the doors were closing, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms tightly around you. Your hands found themselves on his cheeks, stroking the soft skin.

"It's so hot when people think you're my wife. Because you belong only to me. You're mine. My missus."

That was all it took for your desire to get the best of you. You pulled him into you and smashed your lips against his. The kiss was full of passion and lust, tongues moving and teeth clashing. His hand traveled down your your body, hiking your leg up around his waist by your thigh. His grip on the flesh of your thigh was strong with his nails leaving Crescent marks on your smooth skin. It made you moan out loud as you threw your head back.

Trents kisses wandered down to your neck. Kissing, licking and biting the sensitive skin made shivers run down your spine. You felt yourself get wetter by the second. It was almost like your whole pussy was throbbing, desperate for attention. But Trent wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

He focused on the skin between your neck and collar bones, one of your most sensitive spots. His tongue ran over the skin before sucking on it. It made your core clench and you let out a moan louder than the ones before.

Now you wanted to feel more of his skin on yours. The bow had already been loosed over the course of the evening. But you wanted the vest and dress shirt gone too. While he still caressed your neck you opened the button of his vest. You could feel his muscles under his shirt and you couldn't wait any longer. You had to do something. Now.

Your hands gripped at the top of his white dress shirt and the you ripped at it. You could hear the seams breaking as the buttons flew around the small space. Trent raised his head from your neck and looked at you. His brown eyes bore into you and and he raised his eyebrow. He wasn't happy with you ripping his shirt. He gripped your jaw with one of his big hand to hold you in place. Both of you were breathing heavily but Trent went into full dominant mood.

"Do I have to punish you, babygirl? You've been such a good girl all night and now you decide to be naughty. Typically."

Trent had never looked sexier than this. His shirt half ripped showing off his beautiful skin with his lips slightly swollen from kisses. His eyes held the lust he was feeling.

"No Tent. I just want you. I want you so bad. Please."

You couldn't see more of him because he turned you around so you were facing the wall. He pressed himself against you and you could feel his hard on rubbing against your butt. He gripped your hair to pull your head back so you could feel his breath on your neck. His voice was even more rough now, almost growling.

"Do you see, feel, what you do to me baby? I can't get enough of you. And we both know I always take what is mine."

Before you could say anything the elevator door opened on your floor. He took your hands and pulled you to your room. As soon as the door was closed he pranced on you like a starved lion. His kisses deep and his hands all over your body. You walked to your bed and you let yourself fall back onto the sheets. He opened the last buttons of his shirt as you admired his chiseled abs in the moonlight that shone through the windows.

He shed himself of the shirt and vest and crawled over your body. You began making out again. His kisses and his hands being all over you. You didn't know where you ended and he began anymore. All you felt was the burning passion that connected your bodies.

Trent sat up again and turned your body around so you were laying on your stomach. You loved when he'd sometimes manhandled you. It made you all giddy inside. He unzipped the gown very carefully because he knew you wanted to keep in one piece. Once he had stripped it off you he ripped off the red lingerie he loved so much.

"As much as I love this on you. I needed this off you. I'll buy you more. Much more."

You turned yourself back around so you could kiss him. You loved the feeling of his heated skin on yours. Your hands moved to unbuckle his belt and one of them slid under his briefs to feel his cock already hard in your palm. He pulled your hand out and pressed it on the sheets next to you. He began kissing down your body, taking extra care of your chest my massaging and nibbling on your nipples. Your back arched off the bed by the feeling what run through your body. It felt amazing. And he got even lower, kissing over your stomach before he reached your core.

You could feel his hot breath on the slick skin of your pussy and it made you squirm, wanting him to finally do something. He kissed your inner thighs slowly moving down. You bucked your hips up to get him closer but he just held your hips down with his arm.

All of a sudden he just dove in. First with a long lick along your folds before closing his lips around your clit and sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back and your hand gripped onto his hair for support. You always loved when he ate you out but this seemed different. It felt different. Better than ever before. He even ran some of his fingers over your entrance to check if you were wet enough and then pushed two fingers into you. He curled them upwards so they pushed against the bundle of nerves inside of you. Even though you tried to keep your moans low until now, you just couldn't anymore. Loud moans drifted out of your mouth and your chest was moving up and down repeatedly from your heavy breathing. He was eating you like a starved man. It was like his tongue was everywhere at the same time. It was overwhelming.

With him having his mouth on your clit, sucking so deliciously on it, and his fingers moving inside you felt like you were coming in no time. Your pussy clenched around his fingers and you could almost feel the smirk on his lips as he helped you ride through your high.

Your were still breathing heavily when he kissed his way up your body again. When you were face to face again you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. You hadn't even realized he had pulled his pants and briefs down, now also naked above you. When he pulled away from the kiss he leaned his forehead against yours. His brown eyes bore into yours and all you could feel was love radiating from the two of you.Trent pecked your lips one last time before moving to sit up to get a condom. But you stopped him by grabbing

his wrist.

"Don't. Just leave it there. I want you just like this."

His eyes widened. This would be the first time you would have bare sex. You were still young and didn't really want children yet. But you have been together for so long, the moment just felt right to not be as careful as you had been before. If it happens it happens.

His whole face lit up and he leaned right back down to kiss you again. He aligned himself with your entrance and pushed it. You gasped loudly at the stretching sensation. As many times as you had sex, you would never get used to his size. It always left a pleasant burn while adjusting.

You threw your head back in pleasure as he began thrust into you. The sensation of his bare cock was something you never wanted to miss again. Feeling every ridge and bumb of his skin without a barrier was so much better than you could have imagined. He hit spots inside of you that you never knew could feel so good. The both of you were breathing heavily but still connecting your lips in passionate kisses from kisses from time to time. Your hands were clasped together. The whole atmosphere was something you had never experienced. So passionate, so loved, like your souls were connecting.

And Trent really was your soulmate.

[choco-glow]

Is This Thing On?

“You, my dear Shan, are a hard man to find at the best of times.” Theron smirked, just a little, as he sipped his drink from the half-hidden booth he’d chosen, gesturing for Jonas Balker to sit in the opposite seat. Both agents toasted one another, and Theron leaned forward a little into the light, chuckling when Jonas swore heavily at the bruises and cuts marring his face. “And what the hell kind of shit have you been in this time?”

“C’mon now, Balker, I know you know what I’ve been up to, I’ve been fending off your droids for months now all over Rishi so that Lana didn’t stab me. Besides, they look worse than they are.” Jonas glared him down…and sighed a little, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a long draught off his own whiskey.

“Force help me, I do. So, the Revanites…”

“Currently in rout on Yavin-4; we’re now working with the Grandmaster of the Jedi and Darth Marr to build a joint operation…which you also know about, because I know I saw you in and out of the Imperial camps at least twice. You fit the uniform just fine, but that accent sucks.” Jonas flipped him the bird, but shook his head and smiled anyway, and they fell into familiar roles, bantering back and forth as they exchanged information both useful and already used, that rare combination of being both spies and best friends since they were teenagers…and as they ordered fresh drinks, Jonas paused a little bit, and looked like he’d bitten a lemon. Theron just sighed.

“C’mon, out with it.”

“…are you alright after that torture?” His voice was low, soft, and honestly concerned…and Theron gave his friend a faint smile, lacing his gloved fingers together and leaning in a little. Closing his eyes, Theron took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, calming his thoughts, his whole being, drawing on everything Master Zho had ever taught him, because even with the stunt he’d pulled to escape…it had been horrific. The pain wasn’t as bad as the mindprobe, and even now, Theron shuddered at the memory of Revan’s casual perusal of his very soul…but he’d gotten his revenge, in the sweetest way possible, and that had also gotten him the opportunity to break free.

“It was…it was bad. Very bad. But you remember those holovids I had to watch all the time when I was a kid? The ones that were made specifically for the Shan family?” Jonas blinked, suddenly confused by the change of subject, but nodded anyway, well aware even now of the ranting Theron used to go off on about the utter stupidity of those vids…and Theron grinned. “Well, I kept a special link of ‘em for the explicit reason of throwing it back in Revan’s face if I ever got the chance. And that idiot gave me the perfect opening.”

“…No.”

“Yup.”

“You didn’t.”

“Damn right I did.”

“How the fuck were you not stabbed?”

“I have no clue. But it worked, I escaped, and here we are.” Jonas narrowed his eyes, and pointed accusingly at Theron now, who was trying to pull his best injured innocent face over the wicked grin.

“Bullshit, there’s so much more to that story, and you owe me the whole thing, Shan.”

“Fine, fine, but we’re gonna need more drinks.” He slapped down a full credit chip on the table, and Theron felt his grin widen even further. “Alrighty then, strap in, because this is gonna be fun…”

---

Eighteen years earlier…

Padawan Theron Shan, thirteen, arms crossed, robes a mess, his lip busted open from the last scuffle, stared resolutely at the wall as Masters Kaedan, Bakarn, and Zho tried to figure out a suitable punishment. Fighting between Padawans was strictly prohibited, of course, short of controlled sparring, but defending a Padawan who was disabled from several of the wealthier children of the elite on Coruscant did merit some praise…but he’d still started a fight. Ngani Zho sighed faintly, and turned to his wayward pupil.

“Theron, please speak to us. We understand why you fought as you did, and we want you to know that defending Padawan Ask’lil is a noble, kind thing…but you still cannot brawl as you did today.” Theron shrugged, slouched as he was in the chair, still glaring a hole in the wall, and it was Syo who shook his head.

“I fear we won’t be getting through to him this way, Ngani; however, there are the old holovids we could show him. It might be good to give Theron a sense of right.” Master Zho noticed Theron glance up at that, but didn’t call him on it, only nodding a little in confusion. Certainly, they had many holovids for Padawans to learn from, but he wasn’t sure what Syo was talking about…until a familiar figure appeared, and Zho had to keep himself from dropping his head in his hands.

“Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem.” Righting the microphone in the vid, they watched as none other than Revan himself smoothed his robes down, gave the camera a weak smile, and launched into what was possibly the most boring ‘you must keep to the side of Light!’ speech Ngani had ever heard. Now he knew why he’d forgotten this; he’d repressed the memories from when Satele was young.

Theron was staring in horror now, glancing around the room as if looking for escape, and Ngani grimaced in sympathy, because this was just…painful to sit through. Everything from “even thinking impure thoughts can lead to the Dark side” to “Remember, the best way to end a fight is by talking out your differences.” It was cringe-worthy at best, and as the holo finally came to a close, he resisted the urge to punch Kaedan and Bakarn both. Barely.

“…and remember the Jedi Code. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.” Revan winked out, the room finally quiet…and as the Masters stood up to leave, Theron took his chance and bolted out the door. Ngani didn’t have it in him to stop the boy, and though both Syo and Jaric were disgruntled, he calmed them down with a few words and made his way back to their rooms.

“Master, please please do not let them show me that again.” Theron’s voice came from his hiding place in the vents, and Zho chuckled, motioning for his Padawan to come down.

“I’ll do my best, lad, but you’ve got along way to go. Now, come down and let us work on your form…”

—-

“Oh c’mon, not another round of this stupid vid…”

“Then stop picking fights with other Padawans, Theron!”

“It’s not my fault they have punchable faces…”

“Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem. Welcome, young Padawans, and may the Force be with you…”

“Arrrrrrrrrrgh.”

---

“No.”

“You have to watch it.”

“No.”

“Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem. Welcome, young Padawans, and may the Force—-”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“THERON.”

---

“Snooooooooooore.”

“I know you’re awake, Theron.”

“Snooooooooooooore.”

“Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem. Welcome, young Padawans, and may the Force—-”

“…..SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE.”

---

“Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem. Welcome, young Padawans, and may the Force—-”

“I hate this shit.”

“I do too, lad.”

“We could just leave and let it play…or destroy it.”

“And risk listening to Jaric scream all week long? I’d rather listen to Revan.”

“Dammit.”

“Theron, stop swearing.”

“All due respect, Master: fuck no.”

"Remember, the best way to end a fight is by talking out your differences.”

“Did you hear that, Theron? We should talk things out.”

“Arrrrrrrrrgh.”

---

Six weeks prior

Panting, blood trickling from his half-fried implants, head pounding, Theron closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting back a whimper as his two broken ribs seared through his abdomen. He hated interrogation tables for a number of reasons, as did any other sane being, but at least he was lying down at the moment; gravity was not kind to injuries when vertical. And the blinding light that they’d been using on him was off too, small mercies for that…and Revan had also left, which allowed Theron to rest a little before figuring out his next move.

I could just…break out and leave, there’s enough little ways to escape, but with my ribs, the vents and holes in the cave ceiling aren’t possible…I could take out a guard and dress up, but I don’t know the codes…and his people are too paranoid. Dammit…shooting my way out might be the only option… He turned his head to the right to peer through the darkness, narrowing his eyes as he studied the console…and a spark of joy leapt in him when he realized he could see a link between his implants and the console. It’s a Republic model! These idiots must have stolen from Alderaan, because I know that code all too well��

Then, a sudden, vicious grin stretched over his handsome features, and Theron Shan activated the link, uploading an obscure old video to the whole of the Revanite compound as he also had his manacles unlocked and the door opened.

“Take this, you fucking hypocrite.”

"Is this thing on, love?”

“Yes dear.”

“Oh good—-CRAP. Uh…okay. Ignore that. Ahem. Welcome, young Padawans, and may the Force be with you…”

Theron’s laughter could be heard over the alarms sounding as he grabbed up his blasters and hightailed it out the door.

—-

Sipping his fourth drink now and feeling a delightful buzz, Theron grinned at Jonas’ face. The older spy looked like he’d been slapped by a fish, jaw dropped, drink frozen in midair, and Theron couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up, wheezing a little as his ribs twinged in warning under the bandages.

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You’re a mad bastard.”

“And you’re surprised by this?”

“No, just…impressed. Honestly so impressed. How in the name of the Force did that go down?”

“Oh, I probably got us shot at a whole lot more when Revan saw that, he was furious, but damn, it was worth it. My…partners in crime were confused until I explained it, then Lana actually congratulated me for throwing the whole base into chaos.” Jonas just shook his head, finally downing his drink, and Theron slouched back into the warmth of the booth, content to rest for a while longer yet.

“So…how did your…ah…the Grandmaster take it?” Theron smirked at that, and Jonas groaned.

“Let me guess, she hated it too?”

“With a passion. Apparently, all the Shans have been…rather combative since then, I wonder why, and so the Order kept that vid in safe keeping for any future Shans to watch and ‘learn from’. Which…really, has never worked. She thought it was the funniest fucking thing and that was the most bonding we had in years, pretty much since I was born. She patched me up as we talked about it, might just make a habit of spending time with her after all, especially since she’s mellowed out with age.”

“…Wow, I never would have guessed that that would be the outcome of all of that…but what about your old master? I know you lost him before all of this…” Theron gazed out over the cantina, and felt a faint smile touch his lips in fond memory.

“…Master Zho would be proud.”

[grim-faux]

2 _ 13 _ A Turbulent Impasse

 First

 The child was c̸̤̒o̴̘͒m̶̛̰p̶̣͒l̴͖̓i̶̢c̷̰͆a̴̭t̵̠̅ë̵̝ḓ̵͝ at times. This was nothing new. He did his best to deal with the dips and sways in his mood, spontaneous as they were.

 “Please, child. Come out,” beseeched the tall figure, soft and careful.

 The boy was entirely hidden under his clad uniform, drenched hat and equally drenched coat. Back to the Thin Man and a portion of the rugged cinderblock wall concealing his shape. If not for the steady movement of his torso on the visible side, the Thin Man might’ve speculated he’d encountered a clever decoy. Aside from that miniscule movement, the child refused to budge. Infuriating, immutable, bristling thing.

 The rain fell steadily, trickling through crevices and gushing from gutters carved out of the wreckage of some building. Somewhere too near, the retched shrill of a Viewer wailed out as it collided with its certain demise.

 He knew they were leading up to this, he could sense the rise in tension and flighty tendency of the boy. It could be a slow coil of budding that hit a snag, and altogether the child withdrew into a vacuum implosion, wherein he became nonnegotiable nor consolable. On other intervals, it came sudden and with no perceivable prompt. The boy was perplexing and irrational, ditching on the spot to conceal himself from reach and sight. Such as now.

 Not only was it a tight crevice in broken mortar, but also a crevice well beyond his generous reach. He remained unwavering at the gap, hat tilted far back to allow visual of the shape jammed within. “You are soaked. We need to get you out of this weather and dried off.”

 Why? Why was he like this?

 “Are you stuck? Mad?” he attempted, seeking some visible suggestion of anything that might’ve offended him. “Hurt? What is it? Please tell me?” No answer. But the shoulders did tense, and the child tightened. How was it possibly he wedged himself in further? He couldn’t believe the boy was that small. “I need to know. What have I done? How shall I fix this?”

 “Fhhh,” was the only direction the boy would supply.

 Crackling and flashing, the Thin Man reared back and fixed his hat. “Very well, stay there if that suits you. You don’t seem to need me.” He almost expected the lad to emerge immediately, as usual when the threat was delivered. He took several steps from the opening, only offering one slim glimpse back to view if the hat emerged with the face cloaked beneath. Much like his own hat at times, barring out the constant downpour. No such timid exploration, not even a shuffle in the layered ambiance. The boy was cemented and barricaded within his ways.

 The man in the hat did not go to-too far, opting to relocate a couple meters or more behind a jutting slab of cement bent precariously. He took a cigarette from his coat and lit it, resigning himself to wait this out. It was one of those moods he dipped into. Wouldn’t respond or react to anything impelled by the Thin Man. What to do? What to do?

 At least the child was not prone to shooting off. He was hiding, not feeling. A difference in semantics. It was no less irritating, not able to grasp the why of all this. Was it the weather? Perhaps, they had walked too far and the child thought the Thin Man wasn’t paying attention. That may could be, though it did no good to stuff himself into a cold and soggy hole in the wall.

 The Thin Man rubbed his brow, and checked around the edge of the wall. After all this, it was possible the boy would crawl from his crack and go on his own. That would be fine, it was up to the child, and he was indifferent to intervene. The boy was fickle and emotional, it was a test managing those trifles.

 He couldn’t possibly be warm in that hole. He was going to die from hypothermia. At least it would end their miserable existence; his one hope, his very frayed tether and drive to keep track on this irrational child. The boy remained in his spontaneous refuge, unchanged. If the child was truly all right remained a mystery, but he was not with the desire to haul him out or demand answers. He could endure all day, night, week, and then some.

 With a flash of chattering particles through his suit threads, the excess liquid snapped free in a prattling drum. He tapped his cigarette and leaned on the side of the dripping wall, passively observing the space Mono occupied. That child. He grieved the lost connection, the sliver of familiarity he once saw so bright and vivid in those eyes. The child was no longer a past echo, he was barely a tattered memory fluttering through the alleys. When did he lose that boy? This situation would be more favorable if he could grasp a shred of that tenacious soul, instead of… whatever Mono had become.

 Hours. Hours. The tinge of light through the clouds diluted, a streetlamp visible through a gap in the collapsed wall flashed with vibrance. The Thin Man lost track of how many cigarettes he slayed, he scarcely recalled what he was waiting for. Departing might have been the sane solution, since he had no viable method to maintain the child’s stability. It might’ve suited him to take a seat in a chair, any old chair, and wait same as he had before that damned door opened.

 He rubbed a hand against his face. His entire existence was a game of waiting.

 Looking down, he spied the child. As if he’d been stationed there the entire time and all of this was completely average.

 “Done, are we?” he huffed. Mono only gazed up at him, expressionless and eerily silent. He’d never seen a more sodden child.

 Void of a follow-up rebuke, the Thin Man flicked aside his cigarette and resumed marching through the ruble. The child slipped into empty presence seamlessly, but he knew the boy followed. The boy was just that way, and he had no compass to guide through the turbulent emotions.

 The child was not so prone to speek while out in the open uncertain pathways between stops for eat or rest. Through the uncertain course the boy was quiet, followed, and listened. It was an endless quest, some spans of seeking while the weather was good yielded better results than others, while other patrols rendered a cursed cycle of nothing worth mentioning in terms of edibles. Location of viable foods would always be the forefront, since that settled a period for stop. Somewhere through the sequence of disappointments, the Thin Man ceased to care if a domicile rendered a pantry stocked prior to desertion, or had not been raided out by other creatures, usually rats or insects, or other such… pests.

 A stable and fixed location for the child to center himself, assure his safety and certify the absence of enemies. Rarely did the boy stop for a moment to drip, let alone sit and catch his breath. The first order of business was go through rooms compulsively, even with the Thin Man standing right there observing all this play out. And if he didn’t intervene and get that child to stop for a millisecond, he’d go off to search the nearby floors. A DOZEN TIMES OVER.

 The Thin Man gives the boy distance. It’s the least he can provide, when it is a̶͂ͅp̸͚̍p̴̡͋r̵̰̃o̴̢̒p̴̨̾ŕ̴̬ǐ̶̧a̵̤͐ṭ̸͛ë̸̮́. Otherwise, the child would run himself through the floor and straight into the ground. What good would all this be, then? Allow the boy the misfortune of collapsing in the middle of a corridor, where some hostility might pluck him up before the Thin Man could give a damn.

 Try and try, insisting and demanding to the boys face – when he can snare his undivided attention – “Rest first. Then you can go look.” These terms are delivered to the smaller without contest, the child shying under the brim of a hat as if threatened by the skin of his hide.

 The child is not usually receptive to the ultimatum, and before he realized it, his charge has vanished. Teleported, most likely, but gone without a trace all the same. Once more, the Thin Man has failed to manage the child and fortify a structure of laws to follow. Does the boy ever listen?

 Mono is child, and thus his needs are basic and simple. If he is not present, then he is out foraging like the varmint he is. The Thin Man can’t fault him for that. After a time, the child will eventually resurface as if he’d never disappeared. That is encouraging at least, the boy felt safe enough to stay nearby. Albeit craftily hidden, the Thin Man could pick up on the tinges of the transmission when he paid mind to it.

 While the boy rested, the Thin Man could take a short leave to pilfer some foods and collect some literature. Books, dime novels, really anything that could pass in the place of a television; during which he needed to keep in a stationary location, a territory where the child should retreat to. He kept specific attention for any material that might hold insight to the Tower, its workings, or anything that could indicate the station of its appearance. Thus far, no leads let alone specific mention. It was as if the monolith never existed aside from the cycle they were shackled to.

 Regardless the futile quest, the Thin Man persisted his private investigation. Seeking any form of speek, even if it was a glimpse or tabloid speculation.

 Then, there was the child. Cropping up at the most inopportune moments.

 For the past bend of time he sensed something was coming, but held out on baseless optimism if he ignored it the child would simply go off an entertain himself with some curiosity. In hindsight, the child was always eager to bring him some random artifact and present it, for his approval yet. He had to break wean him of that habit.

 The bench seat built into the window accommodated his stature, and he hoped the ledge was too high for the child to scale on his own. It wouldn’t stop the boy from harassing him at floor level, but made his presence more tolerable.

 “Sing box?” the voice peeped. The child climbed up his slanted shin and leapt to the side of the ledge. He barely caught the tattered cloth, and managed to hoist himself up. “Her? F’not kill, okay? Her?” The child moved a little away and sat on the miscolored fabric, legs swaying. As if they were about to have a long winded and meaningful conversation.

 “What?” This all came out of the blue sky, which didn’t exist.

 “Hurt,” the boy insisted, hands clasped together. He mimed out swinging down, focus intense. “Hurt sing bohx. Turn. N’crank.” He wound his hand around, the gesture easy enough to grasp. “Make sing. Pretty. But….” He tried to say Her name. The girl. He hadn’t improved. “Monster. Angry. Hurt. Hurt? She hurt.” He pushed his hat back and looked at the Thin Man. “Did. But… f’not. Angry girl. M’hurt. Did that.”

 This… was not a good topic to get wrapped up in. “I really couldn’t say what would happen.” He flipped a page in the book, the topic about purchase power or some other rubbish that didn’t exist. “I thought you settled on your reasoning for why She does what She does.” If not for his own experience of liberating his Six, he would have no grasp of what the child was referring to. It wasn’t as if he never considered his destruction of the music box as the inciting event which drove her to abandon him. The brutal execution of the precious treasure was the only reason he settled on, which drove his… friend, to subject him to his fate.

 “You killed her sing box?” Mono nodded. “For what reason to do such a thing?”

 The child looked aside, one hand plucked at a callous in his palm. “Laughed t’ee. N… watch. Hate’t.”

 Ah yes, he forgot about the laughter. A cruel thing it was, he enjoyed hurting it. If he truly had hurt it, and it was not mocking those efforts and the grueling challenge it was to release the girl. All that might and sacrifice wasted.

 The Thin Man set the book on his thigh and plucked out a cigarette. “You think now your friend left you, over a slain music box?” Mono shrugged.

 “Mooo-zik.” He tiled his head. “Mean? Slaa-Nuh.”

 “You tricked it to death.” He buried himself back in the book, chewing on the end of his cigarette. This… bizarre child. This was infinitely better than learning about all the little corpses he stumbled over. Returning the boy to the Tower would be a mercy. “Only Six knows why she did what she did. Maybe even she doesn’t know. Would sympathy make the ache all the less?” The boy gave him a sharp look, but he dismissed it.

 There was no denying his unyielding curiosity, it contaminated much of his-own thoughts during his childhood. If he had been led to the Tower and invited within the walls, as the younger-one had been, perhaps he could connect with this unquenchable guilt. But he was not given that liberty. He fought with every fiber of his physical substance, was maimed to the brink of death, only to realize at the end how twisted his course was. The vile irony and sick joke he was duped into playing out. He robbed the boy a portion of that misery, but that self-destructive nature refused to be quelled. How utterly maddening.

 He realized he wasn’t reading, but glaring holes into a corrupt page of marred speek. The child shifted closer, eyes bright. Internally, he groaned.

 “Why n’take. Her. Th’n Mono? T’door?” He tugged at his collar and gazed off. “F’rr reason?”

 This was tiresome, but he humored the child. For now. “We’ve been over this. I was to bring you to the Tower. That is it, the whole of the reason. The complete story.” He flipped a page, while the boy’s mind brewed over the rehashed details.

 The child recycled through the events, the same trail that the Thin Man blazed while he was child, and he had brandished the name Mono. The creature, which She had become – a nightmarish parody of his dear friend. Why was the boy so insistent on revisiting these shades? He couldn’t leave well enough alone.

 “Th’nn steal,” the boy murmured. “N’Mono, f’rr Tower? Want?” He dug harder at the callous in his palm, until it bled. And quietly, “Eat?”

 The Thin Man let a thick vapor obscure his vision of the child. “That is not important anymore. Don’t dwell on what was meant to be.”

 “Dew-ell….”

 “Don’t. Spend. Time. Wondering.” He recited. “It does no good.” The cycle was perhaps ongoing, immutable and diligent. Perhaps he was always meant to return the boy to his inevitable fate, his future home. It continued the cycle, as certainly as when She dropped him through the narrow escape. Her narrow escape. She stole his future away, his… entire world.

 He took the cigarette and crushed it into the fabric of the bench cushion.

 “S’more n’to not say,” uttered the child’s wispy words.

 The Thin Man set aside the book, and that was apparently a cue for the child to relocate to the floor. He leaned over and snared that boy with his glare. “What does it matter anymore? It is done and over. Discarded into a past you’ll never glimpse, and you won’t contend with it ever-ever again.” The child backed away, fists clenched at his sides. “You can’t possibly change what has been or will always be.”

 The boy rallied himself, if only a margin. That vibrant spark in his eyes igniting, if only for a bare breath. “T’know. Important.”

 “Fhh!” The Thin Man rose and strode through the small living room, headed for the corridor. “There is nothing to know. That is no longer important.” The small boy pursued right on his heels. Of course he does.

 “I have no answers for you, child. None that would make sense, anyway.”

 “Try?” the child chirped. “Wait.”

 “No.” The whole interrogation was overdone, far exceeding his patience.

 The Thin Man reached the main door and took the handle, cautious of the spry child trying to dodge in close to his shoes. He made a lackluster attempt to grab for the boy, but the smaller reversed into a full and spectacular wipeout, tumbling to his backside. That was the distraction the Thin Man needed, to shift out of the room. The door was not locked, but it would take the lad some while before he managed to escape into the corridor. Even if he followed by the Thin Man’s means, he wouldn’t keep up. The Thin Man made certain of that, flickering out of the moldering passage in a few flashes.

 Later, when the Thin Man has relocated to an isolated room lost in some ramshackle building, on the verge of collapse and much too dangerous for this younger-self – he did reflect. On his self, on Mono and his motives, on the entire drama. It was only natural, he supposed. To revisit that doubt and guilt, bear the spotlight of blame. To the child it was all the same, he committed a crime and his punishment was deserved. The unknown incident tore him to pieces, possibly more than the betrayal itself. Why-Why….

 But W̴̪̙̥̖̄̉H̴̭̟̟̳̉͐͗͘Y̷͖͇̅?̴̱͆̆̓

 HOW WAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?! THOSE QUESTIONS HAUNTED HIM HIS WHOLE LIFE!!

 He didn’t need this little echo tormenting him. The Tower sufficed that role, snorting and mocking his fresh cynicism for the world. Until it reveled one day, when he awoke and realized who he was. Just Who he had become. Confront the reality that the one he had been running from, should have been the one to run to. It was all twisted and backwards. The Tower was livid, as it must always have been alighting onto this moment….

 Y̵̮͋̾̎͜ͅE̷͍̫͈̎̉̄͌S̶̖̲̿̍̒ ̴͍̠̫͈̽C̸̠̍͊H̵̛̯͍͕I̸̡͔͆̊̊L̶̛͍͕͖͖̅D̸̻̦͎͔̎̄̕

̴̛̛̩̅̃

̵̭̻̓Ḯ̴̯̮͙̮Ṭ̷̛ ̴͕͔̒H̶̢͚͗̄Ả̶̢̭͕̔̍Ś̶̡͉̃ ̴̞̠͙̈́͐͜Ả̴͍̪̳̿̈́̍L̶̜̽̔W̴̡̞͉̆͊̿͜Ȧ̷̩Y̷̞̫̺̙͝S̸̼̃̌͠ ̶͓͕̰̍B̴̥̠͆̔͑E̶̡̻̭͗̊E̸̗̪͊͑N̵̞̦̦̺̈ ̶̖̬́̿Ỷ̶͓͈Ô̸̖̓Ủ̸̧̠͎͊

̶͍͉̻̩̎ ̵̦̮͔̾̓͂

̶̬̅͐

̸̳͖̅̑̉Ȉ̵̳̲̦́͑͌͜T̴̟̈́̓̓̚ ̶̨͕̎̌͗ͅḦ̶̖́̑A̷͚̝̿̍Ṣ̸̖̍̑̈́̓ ̴̣̞̻̰̃͒O̸̙͔̪̪͌͑̿̆N̷̦̮̎L̶̠͍̈̂̍̇Y̵̼̹̅͝ ̶̘̬̤̃̉B̵̢̪̲͛Ĕ̶̙̚ͅE̴̘̒ͅN̶̡̙̰̣͌ ̷̛̱͒͛Y̶̡̡̦̓͆͠O̶̘̓́̂U̴̙͚̾̊

̴̧̳̳̾

̸̣̒͜A̶̳͛̏̈́͂L̵͓̽͂̓͘Ḽ̶̫̞̒̈̈́ ̶̢͉͙̫͠A̷̻̗͆L̴̝̠̮̓̓͗O̵̡̡̹͕̔͂N̵̢͚̥͋G̷̲̯͔͕̉̂̓̕

̴̝͇̈́͋

̶̱̏͐̏͝Ŷ̵̡̒O̷͈͍͘Ủ̶̧̳̗͑̓ ̴̰̟̔̓͗N̴̝̼̺̈́̓̃ͅḚ̶̥̺̠͑͒͝͠V̶͎͈̎̑̕Ě̶͎̪̞̐̀͜R̷̛̰̤͈̥

̴̥̣̜̓̆͠

̶͓̩̐̃C̴̲̰Ḧ̵̢̛͔̖̻́̓͘A̸̦͑N̸̙͐͊̈́G̷͓̮̩̉Ȩ̸̛͉̞͂̚

̵̡̄̐

̵̨̛͉̟̂̓W̷̗̍͑̑̆Ḣ̸̳͎̟̩̂̈A̸͍͍͎̥̒͝T̸̻̜͋ ̸̮̜́͝Ḧ̴̱́̎̓̔A̴͙͆̅S̷̖͇̭̣͠ ̸̡̜͕̞̓̈́̋B̷̨̩̺̓E̷͖͆E̸̡͐̈͂͛N̸̨̼̘̰̍͑͌̍

̶͙̀

̸̧͑͆̀́͜S̵̮͎͓͎̔̃̀̿Ḧ̸̺̟̲̼́A̵͔͐͐̍̚L̴̠̈́͐͋͝L̷̞̏̈ ̶̞̟̒A̴̪͙̞͑L̸̨̧͙͍͛͑̈́W̷̭̫̥͊Ă̸̦Ỷ̸̠́̑͘Ṣ̵̤̑ ̴̨̘́͑B̴̮̗͖͔͗E̴̤͘

 The despair for that revelation decimated him to the core. He could only scream.

 Following some undefined lapse in time, he returned to that residence, and checked if the child continued lurking. It was best to leave him when his charge lumbered into this mindset, Mono was much too singular and direct. Obnoxiously so. Not taking hints nor withdrawing while it was wise. He did it on purpose, the Thin Man is certain. Mono was a purposeful child.

 Even on his unannounced return, the child remained fixedly hinged on some… topic. To his credit, the boy didn’t emerge outright to excavate a long dead subject. While the Thin Man resumed study into a new slew of book content, he became adept at sensing those little eyes glaring out. Usually from the available furniture – under a table, the missing slot of a dresser drawer, or behind a fabric chair of any shape – the boy secluded away, content to watch and bide on the solemn stillness. Like a trap of sorts. Awaiting an unspoken moment or convoluted cue, perhaps an unknown lull in his resolve; the Thin Man wasn’t certain, he only knew he didn’t prefer it.

 However, he primed for when the child reeled up for the tiresome secession, and supplied a simple – “No, Mono. Don’t even.”

 This dispelled the child for a time, and the little eyes would evaporate. Ghostly, and eerie. Either for another period of sulking, or to explore around and satisfy his persisting urger to wander. Excessive and never ending need to know every crack or fray of carpet in a temporary shelter. Exhausting.

 If he proved himself – and that is an IF – to be a sufficient threat to the child, the Thin Man’s presence would be dismissed. Almost assuredly, what always… as perpetually as the cycle persisted. No certainty or theory existed, to state that the younger couldn’t terminate his elder at any point. None of that would have an impact on the boy’s current course, he’s confident. Not that he’d have a place to despair over this abrupt event, though it would be insulting.

 Going through the rooms of the current shelter, the Thin Man knows that his younger-self is not present. It is compulsion more than anything to do a search, scan over broken furniture and eyeing a possible fracture with hidden depths accessible only to the children. This is natural for the boy to venture beyond the refuge for some scavenging. Even when the kitchen of the current abode held edibles, they didn’t endure for long. If the child returned – and that is an IF – it might be time to abandon and seek a fresh haven. IF.

 Losing track of the child is not a highlight concern, since the Thin Man is inexorably drawn to the boy. Even if Mono lost fervor for the ongoing association, it was inevitable that they would cross paths in due time. All this only mattered to the child and how diligent he was to keep focused, and not stray so far he became lost or trapped somewhere, or without running off on his own private adventure. None of that the Thin Man would interfere with, and he wondered if that time was soon. What did the child want? More often the boy was reclusive, unwilling to impart guidance. Often, he wanted to talk about the dead children. Why did the boy have to be so gruesome?

 He sat at the kitchen table, legs outstretched because the table is too short for his knees, and the chair of average size, but not flattering to his limbs. Chin in his palm and cigarette forgotten at his fingers, pondering and speculating the possible scenarios that could exist now. If he disappeared today, or tomorrow, or a dozens years into the future. None of that would matter to the child, not until much-much-MUCH later. Not until the boy awoke one day, only to realize he was no longer child. The years are gone, discarded the whole lot, like She discarded Him. Today, his child-self couldn’t begin to grasp the inevitability. He existed, thus the child subsisted.

 What about him? If his predecessor was so benevolent and managed to capture him. He couldn’t begin to envision the sort of intolerable horror he would’ve become. He didn’t mourn the little boy lost to the Tower. Gave up, good riddance. Saved the man in the hat all the ache and despair they would become.

 He didn’t realize the boy had returned, not until he focused on the shape perched in the entry of the kitchen. Checking where he was, or gauging whether to assault him with a revised form of inquiries. Or maybe the boy was lonely.

 The Thin Man crushed the smoke in his palm and shuffled out from the table, awkwardly. It’s surprising the grating didn’t spook the boy off. As always he leaned low to clear the doorway, intending to bypass Mono. On a whim he caught the child before he could retreat a step, and brought him to eye level while straightening. He halted and stared. The boy glanced aside.

 “What happened to your face?” The child shut his eyes as he brushed aside his hair with a thumb. One eye was purpled, and his lip cracked. Or cut. And he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Child?” Mono would not break silence, but cowered down and shielded his face with his hands. Grit and sand stained his skin, and gravel intermixed with his unruly mop.

 The Thin Man rumbled to himself as he trekked through the corridor, to the bathroom. “At times I can’t get you to shut up, but when I ask a question, you won’t utter a peep.”

 Light sprawled across the gaudy tiled walls, upon his entrance. It was a relatively small water closet, with a ruptured medicine cabinet caved into the wall, and the minimal facilities available to a bathroom. He set the child on the sink, but the moment he loosened his grip, the boy bolted. It never ceased to amaze him how fast the child could move, under minimal motivation. The Thin Man whipped around, the name on his lips and the bulb above the mirror bursting – all in time to witness the coat tail snap around the doorframe. If the wound(s?) were serious, he could have taken pursuit. As it was, hauling the boy back was not necessary. The injury baffled him, and likewise angered him.

 Possibly another adult out hunting children. Like with Viewers enduring withdrawal of the signal, he was no stranger to dealing with threats to the denizens of the transmission. It was entirely possible the boy stumbled into a child pack, and for whatever reason they attacked. Or… vice versa. The answer could be as simple and embarrassing as the boy losing his footing and faceplanting. The main takeaway, he was alright. Well enough to calculate an escape and shoot off without further hazard. A peace offering of food might draw him out, if only to put the child in a better mood.

 It might’ve been more productive to follow Her out of the Tower. He’s certain it would’ve been more entertaining, and the child would come to appreciate his choice in due time. At least it would sort out the paradox of whether the cycle was continuing or not.

Next

[chaos-event-horizon]

Has V!Toshi ever made Rian cry? (And how kinky was it?)

Oh. Oh we're just. We're just literally going for Rian's throat now, huh?

Okay, there are 5 major instances, in the current villain canon, where Toshinori has brought Rian to tears fairly early in their relationship:

The first night they met, when Toshi saved Rian's life and brought him to the hideout. After he and Rian had a small negotiation about making sure Toshi calls Rian by his real name and gender, our wee lad had the good sense to ask if there was anywhere in the city he'd be allowed to hide. Toshinori, of course, had his unique sense of Deja Vu and couldn't imagine getting rid of the kid. He said "You can stay here, for now, where you'll be safe." It took a minute for that to register with Rian, but he basically immediately had an emotional breakdown. He'd never been safe before. And for once, he finally believed he had someone who was safe. Toshinori's still, after years of being together, genuinely haunted by the fact that this kid thought that he was a reliable safe haven within HOURS of meeting each other. Someone most definitely paid for that.

A few days after that, when Toshinori complimented Rian's cooking for the first time. No one had ever done that before-- his parents only ever saw him as a burden, or a backup getaway plan. He'd never considered he might get a genuine, non-sarcastic, non-sexual compliment. "I'm not sure I've ever had meatloaf this good before. Where'd you learn to cook, kid?" Practically broke him, but he kept his back to Toshinori, so who knows if the villain actually noticed? (He did, and he took notes, and he started giving away even more compliments after that.)

When Rian realized that this man was dead serious about helping him find doctors and finish transitioning. Like, all was good when they were talking about it and Rian was describing what kind of surgeries and medication he needed... But later that night? SOBBING. Absolutely bawling. Someone actually giving a shit was... Still so new. He didn't know how to react. He played it off later as his reaction to a nightmare, and then nearly cried AGAIN when the apparently gentle giant told him that... "You shouldn't be ashamed of being afraid. Rian, you went through a lot, for all those years... And I'll make sure someone pays for that. With interest. If you have any more nightmares, let me know... I want to make sure the revenge we get is painful enough to cover everything." Like motherfucking COME ON MAN Rian was practically crying every time Toshi opened his mouth, back in those early days. And the older man noticed and took it out of peoples' asses gleefully.

"Why do you do all this for me?" Rian asked, finally brave enough to confront the almost-suspicious kindness after several months of living with the blonde supervillain, "I'll never be able to pay you back, boss! I could cook and clean for you for a thousand years before I pay you back... So why?" ----- "Because I like you, my little pet. And you don't need to pay me back. I just enjoy your company... If you want to leave, I won't force you to stay. You'll always be welcome with me, whether as a genuine comrade and partner, or just a subordinate. Granted, you make a good live-in maid, but you make an even better friend." ----- Oh yeah, time to start sobbing again.

This last one happened quite a bit later, and will be explained under the cut, cause it happened during the first time they had sex.

~~~

But yeah. Not exactly all KINKY, unless your kink is genuine love and affection... But there we go!

Sexy stuff:

Okay, so it's pretty common knowledge that sex... Does things to your body and emotions. It activates a lot of chemicals. Sends your nervous system through a marathon. Can absolutely DECIMATE your ability to process anything and everything. Sex just does stuff.

And when you're basically a virgin and having safe, sane, consensual sex for the first time in your life with someone who Activates your emotions and basically retrained you to be able to feel positive emotions after you were deeply abused your whole life... Well that does even MORE things to you.

So...

~~~

Toshinori was always very careful when it came to his strength output. He'd trained long and hard to be able to crush granite with one hand, while gently and smoothly catching a butterfly unharmed with the other. He was the master if knowing exactly what to do with his strength... So when he was carefully and happily pounding away into his little pet for the first time, and he looked up to find Rian's eyes dazed and filled with tears, he instantly slowed down and reevaluated. Was he too out of practice, for this? Was he hurting the kid?

"Rian, are you--?"

But before he could get the words out, he found himself being tightly gripped, roughly kissed, and nearly forced into a deeper position as Rian's legs locked around his waist.

"Do. Not. Stop. Please." Rian growled, desperation dripping from his voice, "Please, never stop I'm begging you sir..."

The blonde gave his underling a lewd smirk. He was babbling. He wasn't hurt, he was just getting wrecked and loving it!

"I'll keep going... If you ask me, by name," he said, well aware that the kid probably knew it. He was good at sneaking around and gathering information.

"Please please please T-Toshinori please!"

"Please what, my darling pet?"

"Please fuck me hard!"

"Please fuck me hard...?"

"Toshinori please fuck me hard I need you!"

Well... Who could say no to that?

"Good Boy... Now get ready, because I'm not stopping until I feel like it," he said, completely fibbing for dramatic and kinky effect, "And I want you to tell me how good you feel every step of the way."

And oh boy, that just went on for hours. After Toshinori decided they had both sufficiently gotten off, Rian blacked out and had never slept so good in his life, up to that point. Toshi certainly couldn't complain either. It was even better than he (kind of) remembered... But they definitely had a discussion the next morning, so he could make extra sure his embarrassed little pet really was okay, knew he could totally say no or stop things at any point, and would never get in trouble for asking for something to be changed or slowed down. Toshinori was a villain, but when it came to Rian he was also a gentleman, goddamn it!