#don’t ask me how I feel about him wearing a size S (slim fit)

[nicoscheer]

The reel

Well I was NOT prepared for that

[itsgottabeyoo-ngs]

Caught & Compromised (M)

Jung Hoseok Oneshot

••☀ Author: @itsgottabeyoo-ngs

••☀Summary: It wasn’t like you were really doing anything wrong. If anything it was a compliment, if not a compliment-it was definitely his fault. That, you wouldn’t waiver on.

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“Don’t stop on my account.”

In which Hobi walks in on you seeking out your own pleasure - without him.

••☀Pairing(s): J-hope-Jung Hoseok/Reader

••☀ Word Count: 3.93k

••☀ Rating: 18+

••☀ A.N: This work was inspired by a comment left on my previous work, hope it's what you were envisioning <3

As always, thank you to @pinknamjoon or being the best in every way imaginable. I wouldn’t know what to do without you!

Thank you to my girls that keep me motivated and grounded, @junghoseokit, @dariangarcia and @ilikemesometaetaes. Love you all so much <3

••☀ Tags: Smut | Established Relationship!au | J-hope/Jung Hoseok!au | Caught in the Act!au | PWP

••☀ Warnings: unprotected sex, light breathplay, light overstimulation, soft dom hoseok, mastrubation, light voyeurism, dirty talk, sex toys, creampie, swearing, mentioned aftercare, Hobi is still a dom but surprisingly soft, we need cypher part 5, light degrader/degradee kink, reader is a lil bit of a pain slut

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You swear you had locked the door. You swear you checked your phone multiple times for his message that he was finally heading home. You specifically remember him telling you that he would be getting home late tonight.

And yet - there he was, staring at you with his signature gaze - dark, powerful and accusatory. One which he normally reserved for his role as lead dancer, waiting for the boys to mess up, scrutinising their every movement, and sizing up the competition.

It wasn’t like you were really doing anything wrong. If anything it was a compliment, and if not a compliment-it was definitely his fault. That, you wouldn’t waiver on.

He had been practically living in the studio for the last couple of weeks with Yoongi and Namjoon, working on some ‘secret project’ that you had been hoping was Cypher 5. Though, now you were sure that even if it was, he would never tell you.

It goes without saying that you had missed him. You did let him know that you were thinking about him often. You had meant it in more of a, ‘the bed feels cold without you in the mornings, I miss eating meals together and cuddling on the couch, I saw this and it reminded me of you’ kind of way. However, when you had found yourself missing him in...other ways, you were too weak to deny yourself the indulgence of picturing him in that Dior outfit, hip-thrusting on the stage.

He had told you before that touching yourself without his permission or knowledge was, in other words, prohibited- punishable even.

So when he walked in on you as you had your sweat-glistened head thrown back, a vibrator deep inside your walls, and profanities falling out of your mouth, your blood ran cold and you knew you were in for it.

Now, having pulled the blankets over yourself and removed the toy from within you, you watch him, unable to gauge or read his intentions. His gaze never leaves your face and you can feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and, excitement?

“Don’t stop on my account.” He chuckles darkly, sauntering over to the bed, looking around the room with an impish grin spreading across his lips.

You feel the bed dip down next to you from his weight, unable to lock eyes with him any longer, you watch his hands as he rubs them together slowly. You startle when he begins speaking again.

“Imagine my surprise,” He pauses, waiting for you to look up at him, “When I come home early to spend time with my princess, and she’s already occupied with a little friend.” He smiles evilly, tugging down the covers to reveal your purple vibrator, noticeably wet.

Your breath hitches in your chest, unsure what his motives are as he picks up the toy and turns it on.

Bzzzzzzz

The sound, though faint, rings powerfully throughout the room.

He notices your confusion and hesitation as he reaches out to lay his hand on your leg.

“I could hear you as soon as I came through the front door, princess. Did you want the neighbours to hear you? Hmmm?” He hums, methodically trailing his slender fingers up and down your naked thigh.

You quickly shake your head, noticing he’s awaiting a response. His stare is icy. He wants me to speak, say something- you will your mouth to move and make sounds as he raises an eyebrow, now curling his fingers around your soft skin and squeezing at your flesh, leaving the skin underneath a bright shade of red.

“N-no.” You choke out, trying to even your breath and suppress the bubbling urge building in your throat to giggle out of nervousness and anticipation.

Hobi had two moods when it came to you breaking the rules. He either turned the other cheek and let it slide, never drawing too much attention to the wrongdoing. Or, he punished you for it and made it very clear that it would not happen again.

He didn’t do this in a violent manner, you two had a very loving relationship. However, he would hold it over your head and use it as his excuse for getting you all worked up over, and over and over again, but never letting you cum. He never failed to get creative, like that one time, when he made you wear a buttplug all day - your final exams for uni of all days - and failed to tell you that he had a remote control that could activate it anywhere and anytime. His punishments were never cruel, but the fact that you never knew how he would react or when he would decide was the right time to ‘educate’ you always left you anxious and excited.

Would it be a handful of spankings tonight? Perhaps work you up to your limit, leaving you craving your release and never giving it to you? Or maybe, he’d do nothing but tease you, making your face turn red and your panties wet as he humiliated you for how weak you were for not being able to refrain from pleasuring yourself without his permission?

Your body trembles at the thought as your mouth runs dry, looking up at him again. His expression has changed, he now looks down at you with amusement. Maybe he knows I’m trying to figure out what he’s going to do to me, you think, only half-certain that he can read minds.

“Trying to figure out what I’m going to do with you, princess?” He asks sweetly, the ends of his lips tugging up ever so slightly.

Now fully convinced that he could hear your every thought, you nod, absent-mindedly rubbing your thighs together for some well-needed friction.

“Well, seeing as I rudely interrupted an intimate moment, I think you should carry on, don’t let my intrusion stop you.” He says as he hands you your vibrator, the noise deafening as realisation sinks in.

Your head snaps up to meet his as you limply wrap your hand around the toy, the vibrations making you shiver as you grip it tighter.

“Show me what would have happened if I hadn’t walked in here, princess,” He pauses and leans over you, close enough to your ear that his warm breath tickles your neck, “That’s an order.” He pulls back and stands up, straightening out his jacket and taking a few paces back from the bed, placing his hands in his pants pockets.

You hesitantly kick off the remaining sheets so they pool at your feet. The cool air rushing up under your long nightshirt and causing your nipples to harden in response.

Sensing his impatience, you make haste. “Uhm, what do you want me to do?” You ask shakily, still weary and unsure if you are reading the situation correctly.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” He demands, turning around to face you yet again.

“N-no, sir,” You rush out in response.

He never answers you, instead, he slowly shrugs off his jacket, taking his time to fold it over the back of the chair, not even glancing in your direction.

Knowing that the second time he’d have to tell you something would also be the last time, you bring the toy over your clit gently, working it around in small circles, finding it easier to melt into the feeling when he isn’t watching you with hungry eyes.

You quietly tease your vibrator through your folds, humming out in satisfaction when it catches right at your entrance. There was a reason this toy was your favourite, though it was a slim fit inside you, it had a small part that branched out to rub deliciously at your clit, every thrust you made inside you moved it around your most sensitive part, easily and quickly built you up to an orgasm.

You search the room for your boyfriend, trying to catch his eye to ask for permission to sink it inside you. He’s on the other side of the room, slowly and meticulously removing his clothing, looking at you through his peripheral, paying about as much attention to you as he would a rerun of his favourite show.

Instead of pressing him anymore, you decide to follow the rules and act as you were before he interrupted you, taking your pleasure back into your own hands. You slowly push the toy inside you, letting a faint moan slip through your lips as it stretches you out gently once more.

Looking up at him, you watch as he slowly slips off his shirt over his head. His abs contract as he reaches up to pat down his messy blond hair. Only his pants remain. You can’t peel your eyes away from him as he slowly unbuckles his belt, sliding it through the loops and snapping it away from him towards the ground. You jump at the noise and he laughs darkly.

He reaches for the button on his trousers, unbuttoning and zipping them down with great care. You can’t help but feel the excitement bubble up in your chest once again as he gracefully steps out of them, turning around and folding them over the dresser. You meet his stare in the mirror, blushing as he smirks at you.

Now feeling that you were the one watching something you shouldn’t, it adds to your enjoyment as you feel a sudden jolt run through your body and you clench around the toy buried inside of you.

You shut your eyes and give in to the feeling, immediately combining the image of the Hobi right in front of you with the one clad in a tight black harness.

“Tssssk. Eyes on me, princess. After all, you were thinking about me, weren’t you?” His tone is dangerous, challenging- no- threatening you to speak up again.

You force your heavily-lidded eyes to look at him, another moan escapes your throat as you greedily take in the masterpiece that is his body. His long, lean legs that support his slim, yet muscular build are planted firmly in front of you. As his hands reach down to pull at the elastic of his boxers, his chest muscles contract slightly, allowing for his collarbones to deepen in their shadows, seemingly creating more space at the crook of his neck.

As he finally discards his final piece of clothing, you’re overcome with lust. Watching as his hardened cock slaps against the base of his stomach, you’re suddenly disregarding his command that you refrain from using words and begin to beg, “Please,” you whine, “please touch me.”

“Now why would I do that?” He muses as he circles around to the other side of the bed. “I’m not even here, remember? I just see a needy little slut trying to get off while her boyfriend is away.” He adds, all but spitting out the last part.

The words shouldn’t affect you as much as they do, your back arches in response and your breathing hitches. You quickly pull back the vibrator off of your clit, the vibrations proving to be far too powerful, about to send you over the edge.

“Did I say you could stop?” He asks brusquely, bringing a hand to the base of his shaft and leisurely tugging at it, working his hand up and down as he stares down at you with an expectant gaze.

You slowly push the toy back into you and settle the outer extension on your clit, the obscene noises it makes as it slides in sending a hot flush to your cheeks. You work it in and out slowly, each drag of it getting you dangerously closer to your release.

He makes his way onto the bed, crawling over to sit next to you, his cock is standing heavy on his stomach and leaking precum. You can’t help but absent-mindedly lick your lips as you watch it bounce as he settles down on his knees beside you.

“S-sir,” You start to warn him, “I’m gonna cum, I can’t. I can’t hold off any longer.”

“Then do it.” He growls, his eyes unwavering as you try to remove the vibrator from your folds once more. He grabs your wrist firmly stopping your hand from moving. He uses his grip on you to push the toy back into your dipping pussy, not letting you escape the vibrations that are sending you quickly over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you hard, taking your vision along with your resolve to stay silent.

You cry out as your body convulses from the waves of pleasure that rock through you. Gasping for air and gripping the sheets underneath you. Your back arches up as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm with the toy, each thrust making you shake with pleasure and overstimulation. Tears form at the corner of your eyes as it simultaneously opens up your convulsing walls and rubs against your clit.

“T-too much, sir.” You barely choke out, eyes squeezed shut, writhing in the bed trying to wriggle out of his reach.

He lets his hold on you loosen, pulling the vibrator out of you and shutting it off. He throws it to the foot of the bed, rubbing your thigh with his hand while he brings the other to his cock.

As you start to come down from your high, you look over to see him lazily stroking himself, eyes glued to you as your chest rises and falls, your cheeks dusted pink and your lips parted.

“You look so good like this, princess. Already so fucked out and I haven’t even touched you.” He muses, eyes trailing down your body making your core heat up again.

He shifts his weight around and leans down, his face not even an inch away from yours. He winks at you, making his nose scrunch up before he finally leans in to capture your lips with his. Hobi kisses you with intensity and control, easily flooding your thoughts with nothing but him once more. Your head is still reeling from your powerful release, feeling light and heavy at once.

Never breaking the kiss, he flips you onto your back and climbs over you, framing his arms around your head, you can feel his erection press against your lower belly and you can’t help but roll your hips up against it.

He groans into your mouth at the contact, pushing you back down onto the mattress as you let a soft whimper slip past your lips.

“You fall apart so easily baby,” he croons into your ear, finally positioning himself over you and pushing his cock gently into you. He lets out a low hum as he runs the tip through your folds, collecting the wetness that was already there and using it as lubrication, thoroughly coating his cock in it before he’s slowly pushing in.

You let out a shaky breath as he finally bottoms out, his hips now flush with yours and you can feel the way he leans against you, savouring every point of contact his body shares with yours.

He begins moving as he feels you clench around him, taking the opportunity to snap his hips forward and let out a satisfied growl. You can’t stop the moans that fall from your mouth, changing pitch every time his hips meet yours, shallow but quick strokes that have you babbling and clinging on to him. Your body is shaking as you try to push yourself up from the mattress, but still he pins you down, seemingly pounding into you with more force each time.

“Taking me so perfectly,” Hobi mumbles. “God, look at you.” He hums, voice low and dripping in lust.

As if driven by an unforeseeable force, he pulls back and reaches for your lips, running his fingers over the swollen flesh before dipping his fingers into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. You mewl around his fingers, your tongue swirling around his digits sucking and coating them with your saliva.

“Good girl,” He coos, “my pet knows just what to do.” He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs one of your breasts, kneading it before tweaking your nipple, rolling it between the pads of his wet fingers. You keen at the new sensation, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck and inhales as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, sucking at the skin and finding a rather sensitive spot underneath your earlobe to mark up. Claiming me as his, you think.

His hand moves to your other breast, not one to neglect your needs in any sense.

You moan as he brings his mouth over your hardened nipple, alternating between kitten-licks, soft bites, and sucking, you clench around him and throw your head back, getting lost in the pleasure.

Now pulling back, he picks up the pace, watching as your tits bounce from the movements. Hoseok grunts with the force of his thrusts. Not normally one to break character so easily, you feel a sense of pride as his hips falter- only to pick up seconds later, readjusting so he can reach farther into you, now hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Feels so good sir, want more, need more,” You beg, still surprised that he’s not withholding anything from you as he normally would, maybe he needed this as much as I did.

Just then, he tilts his head to look up at you, his gaze flickering with mischief.

He suddenly pulls out and grips his cock tightly at the base. You whine at the sudden lack of contact, having fallen into a comfortable rhythm.

“No, no, no, no, no,” You rush out, grabbing at his shoulders and trying to pull him back into you.

He runs the head of his cock through your folds and presses against your mound, teasing you softly. You suck in a breath through your teeth as he continues to trace it through your slick, brushing against your clit and making it throb in response. Not able to take much more of his games, you buck your hips up to grind against him and he hisses, pushing down onto you even harder with his hand.

I’m definitely going to bruise tomorrow, You smile to yourself, thinking of how proudly you’ll wear his marks.

His other hand snakes behind your head as he weaves his fingers into your hair, tugging at the roots. It may be too hard for some people, but it’s pure bliss for you.

You hum contently as you feel yourself slip deeper and get lost in the pain that mixes deliciously with pleasure. You want to feel him, everywhere- you want it all. As if an unseen force is guiding your thoughts and tongue, you blabber out, “Please. Please use me, I need it. I need you, please.”

“Fuck baby, with dirty words like those you’re gonna have me cumming soon.” He grunts as he brings your legs down to rest between his. He moves his knees in closer, squeezing your thighs together tightly beneath him.

Then, he’s pushing back in, seemingly somehow even deeper than before, hips rutting down into you before drawing all the way back, tip barely inside of you before thrusting back into you, all the way to the base. The squeeze is even tighter now, you wonder how he fits inside you at this angle, every time you clench around him, he thrusts that much harder to stay buried inside you.

Your hips move in tandem, he picks up the pace and you struggle to keep up, arching your back and lifting your hips up to meet him, drawing a string of profanities from his mouth as he continues to pound into you.

He lets your hair fall back into place, now bringing his hand to your throat, lightly squeezing and stopping the blood flow just the way he knows you like it. You let your eyes flutter shut, rolling up your hips up to meet him, seeking out his lips for something to ground you.

He takes the hint and leans down to press a kiss to your lips, you open your mouth and let his tongue in, your tongues move together passionately, desperately- teeth catching on your lips and tongue as he loses his composure. He pulls back and you’re stunned by the way his eyes gaze at you with unparalleled desire. His thrusts get impossibly faster and your jaw slackens into an ‘o’, eyes rolling back with the inescapable pleasure you feel.

You cum without warning, clenching around his cock and crying out his name. Your thighs shake underneath as you ride out your second orgasm of the night, already exhausted, you pull him closer, wanting to feel him as deeply for as long as possible. You tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner of your body, your hands tightening to fists and your toes curling.

He fucks you through your orgasm with slow, unfaltering thrusts and strikes your g-spot as you continue to ride out the aftershocks. Your walls take him further in with each wave of pleasure and he cums mere seconds after you, groaning and all but falling on top of you.

“Fuck—” Hobi whispers into your neck, panting heavily and pulling out of you with a low groan. “Did so well for me princess.”

You look over at him and he’s smiling with his whole face, it lights up the room and makes your heart stop for a second.

You listen as his breathing returns to normal slowly but steadily, he reaches out and brushes your hair out of your face. The way he treats you like a glass doll now, compared to mere seconds ago when his hands were wrapped around your throat, bruising your hips and forced into your mouth makes you giddy. You always hear people talking about the ‘duality’, but they had no idea.

You shift in bed and smile to yourself at the thought. As you move, you clasp your thighs together, feeling the hot cum threatening to spill out. You move your hand down in an attempt to stop it, cheeks heating up from embarrassment of feeling it flow out of you and making a mess on the sheets.

“Leave it,” he says, his hand coming down on top of yours to still your actions. “I want to watch it drip from you.”

He props himself up on his side, reaching out his hand and ghosting his fingers over your skin, drawing shapes as he lets out a low hum of fulfilment, watching as a thin stripe of wetness trickles out of your folds. You shiver as he reaches down to run his finger through your folds to collect the mixture of your arousal and his cum. He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, releasing it with a noisy pop.

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” you joke, as you watch him, unwilling to admit that his actions once again stirred something deep inside you.

“Coming from the girl that just got off on her own in front of me, only to beg me to fuck her seconds later.” He easily counters, bringing his hand back to your face, tracing around the curve of your jaw and cupping it, gently moving it up to catch your lips in a soft kiss.

You smile to yourself, thinking about how concerned you had been earlier about the possible punishment, I guess he has three moods.

And this one just happens to be your favourite.

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[yamithediaperdork]

Rewarded as a bully deserves (HunterXhunter)

Killua was in a rotten mode as he headed for the closet park in town, huffing and growling over him and Gon having a fight.

It was just so stupid! Here he was, a deadly assassin and for the 6th time this month they'd woken up in a bed drenched with pee. Lord knows Gon was trying to be kind and supportive but really, who could blame him for getting tired of waking up soaked?

Gon wanted Killua to start wearing 'protection' at night to bed, but the deadliest bed wetter alive refused to go that far, he had already comprised and let Gon put rubber sheets on the bed so hotel staffs stopped giving them a hard time hadn't he?

In any case they had taken a shower and gotten dressed, and Gon asked Killua to go for a walk by himself and think about what he had said.

'Screw that nonsense.. I'm go and cheer myself up the best way I know how!' Killua thought as he came to the playground area of the park. Nothing lifted his spirits like a little bit of harmless bullying.

Scanning the play area Killua spotted a good first target. a 5-6 year old with dark tanned skin and a black brush cut was digging away in the sandbox, making a moat around a sad looking sand castle he'd made with one hand, while licking away on a mint chocolate ice cream cone with the other.

spotting a plastic bucket with some water in it for the moat, Killua smirked and strolled over.

"Nice fort little guy." He said sarcastically, getting the boys attention and the kid gave him a smile.

"thanks! I was working on it for like ever!" The little guy said, apparently not recognizing the tone.

"Heh, Would be a shame if something happened to it though." Killua chuckled. "you did get house insurance against giants right?"

"Uhhh what?"

"well what if some big mean old giant.." Killua started, stepping into the sand box now. "Just came up..and did THIS!" Killua asked and stomped his foot down on top of the fort, snickering as the little guys eyes went wide.

"HEY! WHY'D YA DO THAT?!?" the little guy yelled, starting to stand up and with tears welling in his eyes.

"Because i'm better, stronger and therefore better then you. Little dorks have to get put in their place." Killua sneer and then grabbed the arm holding the ice cream cone and make the kid smuch it onto his hair. "Geez you little dorks are SUCH messy eaters!"

The boy squealed as the sudden cold on his head and how icky it felt.

"S-Stop this! I-I" the boy tried to make his threat clear but he was also trying not to full on bawl.

"heyyy don't worry about it, I'll help you clear up!" Killua laughed, then snatched up the bucket with the water in it and dumped it on the boys head, then tugged it down over the kids eyes.

"Hey, that's a good look for you, but it's missing something." Killua said and sneered, then turned the boy around and tugged back the kid's short then tanked up on the poor little guys briefs.

"Awww, a fan of sailor moon I see!" Killua teased and hooked the back of the briefs on the back of the bucket, then booted the kid in the ass, sending him sprawling out of the sand pit.

"Alright, I had my fun, get the fuck out of here before I decide to be mean." Killua said cheerfully.

the thought that all of this had been Killua being nice light a fire under the boy's butt, and he ran/crawled off, not even trying to remove the helmet or pick the wedgie out of his butt.

"well, I feel better already." Killua commented to himself, though he noticed a few other kids and adults glaring at him.

"Oh by all means, anyone who wants to try and punish me.. " Killua said, going from a happy goofy look to his slash smile. "Step up."

no one did.

After scaring two more little guys into give him all their ice cream money Killua was in the middle of getting a cone (Double chocolate mint just like the dork had had, it had looked good after all) when he heard a familiar voice.

"That's him Carlo! that's the bully!" cried the dork from before.

Turning around slowly Killua smirked, Carlo was clearly the dork's big brother, and while he was a little bit taller then Killua he had a slim build and the same tanned skin, though his hair was a bit longer while still being short.

"Ok mister, I'm going to give you ONE chance to say sorry to my little brother, and get him a replacement cone. If you don't.." Carlo said, crossing his eyes and glaring at Killua with a death glare.

Killua, who gave those out with ease froze for a tiny fraction of a second, and his bladder twitched, but he shook it off and took a long lick of his ice cream to show he wasn't scared, and to give him time to regain his composure.

"What? If i don't you'll do -what?-" Killua asked. "Try and fight me and end up hanging from the teeth ball pole by your undies? I mean, I'm mostly in a good mood now but if it's a ass kicking you want." Killua sneered.

Carlo rolled his eyes, then smirked.

"You know..I've been in a bit of a funk lately, and beating up bullies always makes me free better.. so thanks." He said.

Killua raised a eyebrow to thank but before he could react, Carlo was right next to him, and much like Killua had done before, taken a gripe on the arm with the ice cream cone.

On small difference though, Carlo wasn't going to make him put it in his hair and had tugged open the front of Killua's shorts and undies.

"W-Wait d-don't!" Killua shrieked, his plea fell on deaf ears though and he was somehow powerless to over come the taller boy power.

As such, a high pitch wail was heard as Killua's twig and berries got a double mint chocolate coating.

Killua's eyes crossed and a cartoonish image flashed in his mind as it felt like his private had just been transformed into two ice cubes and a Icicle, then there was sudden relief and warmth, making him stick his tongue out the side of his mouth in blessed relief.. at least until he noticed the warmth was traveling down his legs.

"heh, Carlo the bully wet himself!" The little guy pointed out, snickering and getting out his phone to take pictures.

"I can see that buddy, Aww, did the cold cold ice cream make da big bad bully go wee wee?" Carlo asked, folding his arms over his chest and baby talking to Killua.

"i..I uh.." Killua stammered, Sure, he was no stranger to soaking his pants at NIGHT while he was asleep, but this was a new one for him! "I..didn't go tinkle?" He finished lamely.

"Rightt then whats that making a puddle on the ground right now and staining your shorts." Carlo asked.

"..I don't have to answer that! In fact, I've had enough of false accusation's and I'm leaveing!" Killua huffed and turned around to do just that, but also exposed his back to his new found enemy.

Carlo, knowing that Killua had wedgie his little brother Hector, moved in and with on hand tugging Killua's shorts back the other grabbed the waist brand of Killua's Barney briefs and lifted up before the poor hunter even had a chance to fight back.

Killua's mouth opened as if he was screaming, and while dogs howled in pain no one with human ears could of heard the noise coming from his mouth, it was that high pitched.

Carlo smirked at the response and said "Awww, Barney briefs? that's just soo..fitting! But I wonder how strong they are?" then adding his other hand to the back of the waist band even as Killua looked over his shoulder and shook his head no, bringing his hands together pleading, Yanked the soon to be ex-hunter off the ground by a good 2 inches if now more and dangled him there as Killua turned pale and went blank eyed.

"Oh wow, those must be reinforced Carlo!" Hector marveled, recording this all for YouTube.

"I know, kinda a shame, if they weren't they'd of snapped by now and he'd know SOME relief." Carlo chuckled then turned him and Killua better into frame for the camera.

"hi I'm Carlo and this is a big bully who tried to pick on my little brother..Huh, never caught his name.. Hey wedgie boy, whats your name?" Carlo asked and holding Killua up with just one arm delivered a hard swat to Killua's buns, which also ended up making his shorts slide down around his ankles showing off his pee stained undies.

"A-AH! M-Mah name is Killua Zoldyck and I'm super super sowwy! Pwease stop!" Killua begged and pleaded, in a voice that sounded like he'd sucked on some helium.

"I dunno Hector, what do YOU think? Has Killua had enough?" Carlo asked, and Killua shot the boy he'd bullied a pleading look, bottom lip trembling and tears welling up.

"Hmmm you know I really think..that you should use him like a yo-yo till his undies snap. THEN I'll forgive him!" Hector giggled.

With both hands on the waist band Carlo went to work even as Killua started to blubber and cry for his mommy.

It ended up taking a record breaking 55 bounces before Killua's undies snapped, and by that time Killua had gone to la-la. with his undies snapped and ripped off off he was too out of it to notice that he was currently face down butt up with nothing covering his der rear and his bubble butt and little package showing.

"oh man.. that explains why he was in such a bad mood.." Hector giggled, having turned off the camera for now but uploading the video. (after all, even with a member as small of Killua's the mods on YouTube would of removed the video)

"man, makes me feel like I picked on a over sized toddler. feeling a little guilty." Carlo said, though in truth he wasn't really.

Killua's shorts were gone by this point as the boys who's ice cream money he had stolen had retrieved them, and after finding some of the cash and taking Killua's wallet, had tossed them in a bin meant for dog waste.

"Well, nothing we can do now, we don't have any spare pants for him." Hector pointed out.

"Well not quite..remember that weird vendor we passed on the way in?" Carlo said, digging into his pocket and pulling out some bill's.

"Heh.. you don't mean.." Hector asked.

"A yup. be a good boy and run and get widdle Killua something to wear." Carlo said, handing the money over and keeping a eye on 'sleeping beauty' while Hector ran off.

Killua was having a wonderful dream about having a endless buffet of candy and chocolates and it was so nice after what must of been a nightmare where he was tormented and bullied beyond belief.

He was slowly waking up and rolling over to sit up and rubbing his eyes. "Nggggh Heyyy Gon, you wouldn't believe the night..mare..I.." Killua started to say then opened his eyes, seeing Carlo and a semi crowd all around.

"Welcome back to the land of the living tiny!" Carlo said.

Killua huffed at that and stood up, about to tell Carlo off, he wasn't THAT much shorter when a breeze blew and he noticed how much he felt it on his on buns.

Looking down his face went crimson and Killua grabbed at his shirt and tugged it down, trying to cover up his privates.

"W-WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY UNDIES? MY SHORTS?!" Killua yelled, getting roars of laughter from the crowd.

"Well your undies were totally wreaked so we tossed them." Carlo said, nodding over to a waste bin for normal trash. "As for your shorts, there was a couple of boys you really seemed to annoy earlier and after getting back they're ice cream money with interest, they tossed them in the dogie waste bin..I doubt you'll want them back."

"but..but.. I can't go around with my ding dong on display!" Killua whined and whimpered.

"That's true. don't worry, I already thought of that shrimp." Carlo said and nodded behind Killua.

Killua turned to look and there was Hector, the brat he wished he'd never of picked on, running back with a pack of...DIAPERS!?

Killua whimpered loudly, a spurt of pee coming out and soaking the bottom of his shirt as he turned back to Carlo with pleading eyes.

"Please no! anything but diapers!" Killua whimpered. "I'm not a baby!"

"heh, Are you SURE about that?" Carlo asked, looking down and making Killua's gaze follow to the damp spot on Killua's t-shirt.

"i..but..that was because.." Killua mewed then shrieked and jumped, grabbing at his bun's as Hector came in range and walloped Killua's baby butt.

Ironically when he came down he landed in Carlo's waiting arms, like a blushing bride.

"Awww how cute, but you really think I'm gonna save you?" Carlo asked, then dropped Killua onto the hard ground and onto his tender buns.

"S-Stop being s-so mean to me!" Killua whined, on the verge of anther crying fit.

"Sheesh, I should of gotten him a paci." Hector said, handing the pack of diapers over to Carlo then tugging the shirt up and off of Killua, using it as a tear rag then tossing it out.

"Oh wow, Lookie here Killua~" Carlo said, reading the pack then holding it in front of Killua's face then read from the back. " 'New little poopers punishment diapers are perfect for your so called big kid who refuses to use the potty! extra thick to ensure they waddle, it comes with a embarrassingly babyish nursery print we promise to have your little stinker blushing bright red. with a special stink guard you and the big baby won't have to deal with their stink!' Heh wow, Oh look, they offer alt versions, that's something to keep in mind if you need more lessons."

Killua meanwhile was looking at the front of the package, showing sobbing pre teens in the bulky diapers and smirking parents.

"I-I changed my mind! I'll go home naked!" Killua whined.

"Nonsense! what kind of person would I be if I let you go without the diaper you CLEARLY need!" Carlo said, as if he was doing Killua a favor. "This is gonna go down one of two ways loser. You can either lay back and suck your thumb while I put as many of these as I can on you, or I can kick your ass, knock you senseless..then put as many of these as I can on you. Either way, you're going back to diapers. YOUR choice."

Killua pouted, started to ball a fist up.. then sighed and laid back, popping his thumb in his mouth and turning away from the crowd as laughter and taunts rang out.

"Loser!"

"Big baby!"

"Wuss!"

Carlo was a little disappointed that Killua decided not to fight back, but he had to admit seeing the wanna be bully accepting his big baby fate was kinda cute.

ripping the back open open Carlo smirked, dispute being the size of a pack that should be able to hold 16 diapers, there was only 6 of them in the pack and he pulled on of the massive things out, making sure everyone could see all the rattles and paci's and teddy bears and the like all over the diaper then unfolded it.

"Ok Shrimp, Butt up! If i have to lift you up I'm giving your buns a swat!" He said and wasn't shocked when Killua's butt almost levitated up in a instant to avoid any more punishment. "good boy!"

getting the almost pillow like diaper under the loser's butt, he gently pushed Killua's butt back down and smirked as Killua loudly sucked on his thumb, getting drool going down his chin as Carlo pulled the front up nice and snug and then taped it up.

"Welcome back to babyhood Shrimp." Hector said, leaning down and snickering, and making Carlo beam with pride.

In the end they only manged to double diaper Killua, the diapers were just too massive and they ripped a third one trying to get it on the babfied brat.

After he was all nice and snug in his diapers Carlo told Killua to try and get up and to Killua's massive shame, not only could he NOT get up on his own, but he couldn't even get close to bringing his knees together.

The fourth time he just plopped down on his butt trying to get up, Carlo rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"-sigh- Ok Shrimp, let me help you." Carlo said as if he was doing Killua a favor.

Holding out his hands Killua took them and got yanked up to his feet, legs wobbling as he tried to center his balance.

"heh, you might need a bit to get used to waddling in there. Try waddling over to that tree over there." Carlo said, pointing to a tree that would of only been 10 seconds away normally, but with this massive bulk taped around his hips it might as well been a mile away.

Still, Killua knew better then to argue at this point and took a wobbly step, then anther, and smirked, thinking he was getting the hand of it.

'I got this! I can-' He was thinking when his fourth step went wrong and with a loud yelp Killua plopped on his butt, a shocked look on his face but not hurt considering the thick padding under his butt.

"Awww, widdle baby Killua doesn't know how to walk!" Hector giggled, getting more laughter from the crowd.

"yeah, guess you better stick to crawling shrimp..you CAN at least do THAT can't you?" Carlo asked, tilting his head and smirking.

Killua huffed, he wanted to try and walk again but knew he wasn't getting any help and there just wasn't anything to help him get up to his feet with around. He toyed with getting in the crawling position and pushing himself up THAT way but had a feeling while he'd be in the middle of it Carlo would just smack his butt and send him face first into the dirt.

getting on all fours and trying to drown out the snickers and flashes of camera phones going off, Killua rolled around and got on all fours and then slowly crawled over towards the tree, glad that he had been right that he could crawl at least.

'at least i didn't have to do a diaper scoot across the ground, knowing my luck it would of ripped apart the diaper and I'd of gotten a spanking.' Killua thought with a sulk as he reached the tree.

"Well well, at least you can crawl, I was worried I was gonna have to carry you over." Carlo snickered. "Now use the true shrimp and get to your feet, and shake that diapered ass and sing us a song about what a big dumb baby you are and how happy you are to be back in diapers."

"..Your joking right?" Killua asked, jaw dropping. "There is NO WAY in hell I'm gonna d-" he started started to say but Carlo cracked the knuckles on his right fist and and light tapped his fist into his open left hand.

"You SURE about that?" Carlo asked.

"..W-what If I can't think of any lyrics because I'm a big dumb baby?" Killua squeaked out, flooding his pampers.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. It's ok if your dumb is lame though, your just a diaper baby shrimp." Carlo said.

Grunting with effort, Killua pulled himself to his feet, hands braced on the three and looked over his shoulder, the crowd was watching with delight and he trying to think of something, anything to sing.

"I...I'm big baby Killua and I'm so happy.." he started, wiggling his diaper, shutting his eyes.

"Because a big strong boy put me in a nappy!

Diapers are totally wear I belong!

so I hope all of you love my big dumb baby song!

I thought I was a bully but I'm just a dweeb

filling my diapers up with pee pee

If i ask for undies look at me like I'm a nut

then make baby poop with a punch to the gut!"

The act of singing the song and keep his eyes closed so he didn't have to see the crowd (though he could hear them laughing and cheering him on) had Killua's body getting into it and he was shaking his diaper booty like there was no tomorrow.

"Stupid babies like me we don't need to think!

we just sit in our diaper and super stink!

Watch me prove that as a baby I'm the best

I'm gonna fill my diapers with a super big mess!"

Killua's eyes shot open at that, had he really just promised that!? worse, his body was again moving on it's own accord and he was squatting down now, grunting and pushing, puffing out his cheeks.

'no no no no! why can't I stop myself! GOOOON! HELP!' Killua thought.

"Killua? whats going on?" Came Gon's voice.

Killua almost didn't believe it at first, it was just he wanted Gon to save him that he heard the voice of his boyfriend! But no, a look over his shoulder showed Gon standing there, eyebrow raised.

"G-Gon you have to s-save me! I-I-I.." Killua tried to tell Gon about what had happened, how he'd been victimized but before he could get the story out, something else came out in the back of his diaper. "I'M POOPING!" Killua cried out.

if the muffled farts hadn't of been hint enough, the back of the THICK diapers bloating out and getting even bigger would of given it away, and despite the diaper's boast of super stink guard, Killua's backed up stinky load (he hadn't gone in 5 days) was filling the area with a rotten smell, driving part of the crowd away.

Gon for his part just held his nose and then shook his head.

"Really Killua? You won't wear diapers to bed despite being a bed wetter, but you'll load them in public..Your coming with me mister man." Gon scolded and walked over.

"Um.. Should we tell him-" hector started to ask Carlo, holding his own nose.

"Nah, it's better this way. you can get out of the area of effect though, I'm gonna go say by by to baby Killua."

Walking over Gon was scolding Killua and swatting his boyfriends mushy butt as Killua whined and whimpered, sucking his thumb and still going.

"Hi, I'm Carlo...I was watching your little guy today." Carlo said, holding out a hand.

"Oh, well, thanks. I'm sure he was a handful." Gon said, giving Killua a look then shaking Carlo's hand.

"well he wasn't that bad. it was a lot of fun actually. anyways, here's the rest of the diapers Killua got and asked me to put on him, and if you even need a babysitter, give me a call." Carlo said.

"Heh, i just might, give me your number." Gon said, taking out his phone and handing it to Carlo, one hand still mushing Killua's tush.

"there we go. anyways, you two have fun! Byeeee baby Killua! you were LOTS of fun to play with." Carlo said and waved bye to the stinky big baby.

"Killua, don't be rude!" Gon scolded.

Killua whimpered, knowing there was no way he was living this down, he was gonna be in diapers for at LEAST a month..and knew it was pointless to try and tell the truth now.

Sliding his thumb out of his mouth as he finished loading his diaper, he gave a weak wave to Carlo and in a small voice said

"Bye bye."

The end

[slashersins]

wondering if u could do slashers with a rlly bony boyfriend? (or s/o)

bony ? you are actually so lucky that i finally found out what it’s like to hug and cuddle with someone who is bony . #shoutouttomywife’sgirlfriend . don’t worry baby boy , i got you ~

wondering if u could do slashers with a rlly bony boyfriend? (or s/o)

jason

oh god . he thinks he might crush you . he wants to hold you so tight but he’s scared of snapping you in half . but you remind him that you’re tougher than you look and you don’t mind being crushed in a tight embrace . just bat those doe eyes at him and he’ll get weak .

lanky arms around his neck ? jason’s hand engulfs your arm so easily . he gets dizzy . it’s terrifying and such a power trip . can you see your ribs when you suck in deep . jason’s fingers are suddenly there , tracing each rib , counting them , amazed and happy that you have all of them . do your hip bones jut out ? oooooooh , jason traces over them , eyes wide as he marvels at how delicate you are . 

also be prepared for jason to want to carry you everywhere , he doesn’t need you falling into a hole and breaking those cute legs of yours . 

thomas

you’re probably the smallest member of the hewitt house hold . and that means that everyone is trying to fatten you up . now don’t get me wrong , thomas loves you . he loves how small and delicate you look next to him . he loves being able to pick you up and sit you on his lap . he likes how graceful , yes to him you’re fucking graceful , you look when you walk around the house and do your chores . and you’re so small that he feels powerful when he holds you . but god , he wants to put meat on your bones .

it’s likely that thomas will bring you snacks often and luda mae will try to make you so many sweets . they don’t see anything wrong with you being bony they just want you to have more cushion as protection . it’s either fatten you up or cover you in pillows .

thomas knows how easy it is for him to break done . to cut through it . he knows the familiar snap , the feel and sound satisfying . so he’s very protective of his bony boy . he doesn’t think you’re weak , not really . he just worries . sometimes , when you’re both in bed , lazing about , thomas will lean half way over you . he’ll trace your jaw , your clavicles , over ribs , between the dips , lower over hips bones . at this point he’s on top of you , head bent down as he circles his hands around your waist and gives a little squeeze . god , you’re beautiful , y/n . he wants to snap you in half and keep you whole all at the same time . his pretty bony boy .

bubba

have you seen nubbins and chop top ? you’ll fit right in . bubba is already fully aware that bony boys can take a lot . so he’s not as concerned as you breaking something , more concerned that you’re going to use your thin frame to get stuck somewhere like nubbins . please don’t hang out with them too much . the chaotic bony bunch doesn’t need a third . 

wear his clothes . for the love of god . bubba is a big man . so grab one of his shirts and let it hang off you . you might feel silly but bubba finds it the sexiest thing ever . he’ll grab at you , chubby fingers touching over your smaller frame with awe as he whines . he wants to put other clothes on you , to dress up . to see how you just get dwarfed and swallowed up .

bones poking out ? being a little jabby ? bubba doesn’t fucking care . let them bones dig into his belly , he loves it . honestly he might have a thing for you being so small . also he gonna nip and bite and lick all over your bony body , smothering you in affection . he’s the only one of the slashers who isn’t afraid of breaking your bones . he hasn’t broken any of nubbins and chop tops yet . 

michael

he’s interested . you’re small . delicate . breakable . easily ruined . the way he can feel your bones under his hands without any effort on his part . it goes straight to his head , igniting a deep need in him . he needs to bring you as close to breaking as you as possible . bruises ? check . dark nail marks over your skin ? check . the power trip ? check . 

sometimes you think that michael might be thinking about how easy snapping your spine would be . you’re right . but he won’t . no , he’ll just tighten his grip just hard enough , then loosen his grip and give you a satisfied look . 

manhandling is a must for him . even know . you might think jesse is a man handling beast , but michael doesn’t want to put you down ever . which is strange considering he is a solitary man and more akin to a cat than anything . but your tiny little body is his fucking cat nip . 

brahms

delicate . lovely . beautiful . like some sort of statue carved with gentle care that came from the renaissance age of art . to brahms you are a work of fucking art . he was dreaming of coming out and holding you , of studying you , of experiencing you when he was hiding in the walls . 

now that he’s out , he can barely keep his hands off . his touch so soft and careful , as if you were made of marble , able to be cracked and destroyed at the slightest touch . body worship is a must for him . he has to touch every inch , learn every detail of you . 

the fact that you and brahms are both on the smaller side , you of course being a delicate boy and brahms being lean yet toned , it means that he loves how your bodies fit together . slotting against each other like two pieces of a puzzle . prepare to be held constantly , to have hands roaming over you . 

jesse

he’s going to man handle you . tossing you over his shoulder , tossing you to the bed , the couch , all with a smug look . he’s going to buy you clothes that shows off that beautiful bone structure of yours . he’ll grab you in public , puling you in close and settling a hand on your hip , letting everyone see how small you are compared to him , showing off the pure possession with the size different . you’re his baby boy . his little sugar baby . no one can match him . how could they ? he’s jesse . 

god he fucking loves to see you naked . his eyes dark and hungry . he wants you to run your hands over your own body , showing yourself off to him . he wants you sitting in his lap , pressing in close as he wraps his arms around your waist , just holding you and feeling how fucking delicate you are in his arms . you might just be jesse’s kink . 

billy & stu

both boys aren’t bony . they are a bit lanky and tall and slim with some muscle . typical general young adult male size . which means they are going to fucking tease you . bag of bones , bone daddy , little skellington . all the nicknames . but said with love and affection as they grab at you and press in close . 

stu will run his fingers over your ribs as if he’s playing a guitar , making mouth noises as he does so . you’re a guitar , bone baby ! let’s rock ! also stu has no probably just running up behind you and lift you off the ground and over his shoulder , patting your ass and laughing . it’s not his fault you’re so small , but fuck if he doesn’t love it . 

billy is smug and teasing . bu the won’t go as far as stu . this miscreant is likely to sneak up behind you , hands on your hips as he nips at you and asks how his little skeleton is doing . like jesse , he’ll publicly show off how delicate you are compared to him . but honestly billy isn’t all that much bigger than you so it’s kind of cute how dominate he tries to look . but he still loves it . he’s going to leave bite marks over every protruding bone he can find . so expect to be marked up all over . 

all together the three of you make a chaotic couple . a group of lanky mischief boys . 

[arhvste]

Okay bear with me but may I request scenarios where kuroo, bokuto, and atsumu are doing the “He got all the drugs and I got all the guns” tik tok trend with their s/o (separately) and like they are wearing the whole shebang heels, dresses, crop tops, makeup, wigs ,etc that’s only if you want to of course n e ways have an awesome day🤩

OMG ARE U A MIND READER I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS AND SPECIFICALLY THESE BOYS DOING THIS TREND FOR WEEKS 🤯

just in case you didn’t know i’m referencing this trend 😼

KUROO, BOKUTO AND ATSUMU DOING THE FAMOUS (I’M THE ONE) TIKTOK TREND WITH THEIR S/O

-

KUROO

when you first show him the trend on tiktok he just laughs 

then you suggest the two of you doing it and he goes quiet

he’s really thinking about it 

he secretly is more than happy to do it with you 

but he’ll find out how far he can tease you first

“and what do i get out of doing this?”

“spending quality time with the love of your life duh”

“it’s gonna take a bigger reward than that for the expense of me making a fool of myself online princess”

“PS5?”

then he’s like 👀

he wasn't expecting an actual good reward but if that’s what you’re willing to do for it 

he won’t actually make you buy one for him don't worry

he’s just amused that you’re that adamant about doing it 

he will absolutely let you pick out what clothes of his you want to wear

you’ll pick out what he wears from your wardrobe though because he is not about to stretch your cute clothes with his big body

you end up giving him an elasticated crop top and some loose baggy sweatpants

he will 100% let you do his make up and hold accessories

he is stunning with a natural make up look

a pretty highlight to his cheekbones, bridge and tip of his nose, inner corners of the eye and brow bone

light pink blush on his cheeks and nose

slim eyeliner and a light pink natural lip colour

he actually suggested wearing super obnoxious fake eyelashes 

“i am NOT having you look like a tacky abg kuroo”

“but then we can say you’re a kevin nguyen, it fits”

‘nO!!” 

to finish the look he’s holding a white clutch bag of yours 

he almost looks seductive 👁👅👁

he actually looks so good in your outfit

“i think i pull this off better than you”

you’re wearing some training shorts, one of his favourite t shirts and a black nike cap 

so you set your phone up and the music starts to play

immediately you two are in fits of giggles though 

it takes you two approximately 8 attempts to finally get it right 

and when you watch it back you’re in for a shock

kuroo can throw it BACK

he doesn’t even have a particularly noticeable ass 

like he has one but it’s nothing like bokuto’s

but when he throws it back his ass is thicccccc

even he’s surprised at how well he pulls it off

he pulls the whole routine off

from the way his hips seductively sway, the pure sass in his walk as he struts into the camera frame and the way he rolls his body

honestly you think he makes a better girl than you

“good aren’t i? god i could almost date myself”

“yeah if you’re into 6″2 hairy girls with a hyena laugh” 

he’s looking down at his very manly and unshaven legs

“let me shave it and i’d date myself”

you guys upload it and you’re a hit 

“let’s move to LA right now tell the hype house they’ve got two new members joining”

“kuroo, i am NOT joining the hype house and neither are you. 😐”

overall i really think you guys would have fun with this trend and kuroo makes sure to send the video to both of your families who enjoy watching it as much as you guys enjoyed making it 

“the roles have reversed i’m your pretty girl now y/n~”

-

BOKUTO

he’s the one who brings it up to you

“babe look at this we HAVE to try it please please please!”

you laugh at him and agree to it 

he is so excited he already knows what choreography he is doing

you guys go to get changed and he lets you pick whatever you want out of his wardrobe 

this boy is pure muscle he is huge 

anything of his you wear will be like a dress on you

regardless you still take your time deciding what you want to wear

PLEASE pick his volleyball jersey and shorts he will literally cry from happiness

it would make his whole year 

so you do just that 

he is literally melting at the sight of you in his volleyball uniform

“BABY YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT TO ALL MY MATCHES”

“-but you’ll be wearing it... at your matches... when you play 👁👄👁”

so bokuto will not be fitting into your tight fitting clothes that's for sure

but he will happen to fit into one of your cute flirty sundresses where the top half is made to be able to adjust the size

he is twirling around and flicking the skirt about once you manage to wrangle him in it 

he’s like a giddy school girl

again, he will definitely be up for you to apply make up on him

nothing too heavy but just enough so you can tell he’s wearing some

pretty light yellow eyeshadow, highlighted features and faded eyeliner

you pull his hair into two tight little buns

he’s really feeling the part now

so you guys go to film the tiktok and he is jumping around like an excited kid

you manage to film your parts pretty well first try but he isnt too happy with his performance

“i don't know i just feel like i could’ve thrown it back a bit more”

so you refilm until he is content with his part

which by the way is after 14 tries so thank the lords you are patient when it comes to him

it is so worth it though

the practices paid tf off because bokuto is throwing his cake about like nobodies business

he be serving a piece for everyone fr 

immediately after you film it he wants to show akaashi 

to which akaashi isn't surprised when he watches it 

he does snicker at his phone when he does watch it though

neither you or bokuto really care about views etc 

this was all just for fun after all but you upload it anyway not giving it much thought

and just like that the two of you are an overnight sensation

comments are flooding the notifications 

“his ass routine? drop it noW!!”

“what's his work out routine i need cake like his 😩😩”

“my boyfriend said he has a fatter ass than me so im currently crying 😔🤚🏽”

the nekoma, fukurodani and karasuno boys are BUGGIN tf out 

they're all calling you and sending you the video for confirmation that it is actually you two 

it’s not like bokuto is hard to tell apart but they still want your confirmation 

“REMEMBER ME WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS BOKUTO-SAN!!”

“OF COURSE HINATA WHEN WE’RE RICH WE’LL ADOPT YOU CAN LET YOU MOVE INTO OUR TIKTOK MANSION!”

he is SUCH a child but he’s the man child you fell in love with

needless to say this video will be played at the wedding and anniversaries to come 

-

ATSUMU

atsumu is constantly irritating you to be one of those tiktok couples with him

he’s convinced the two of you were made for the tiktok lifestyle 

everytime you roll your eyes and decline 

but you decide to give him the opportunity when a certain trend catches your eye 

“baby, when i said i wanted to be tiktok famous i meant like the dances n cute videos where people compliment us n call us hot. this aint it chief”

“fine then, guess i’ll ask samu”

he doesn't even give u the chance to get up after you say that

“no nO I”LL DO IT 😠”

he is reluctant at first 

ideally he wanted to make the tiktoks where you’re the one throwing it back on him not vice versa

anything to make you happy though i guess

he will pick out both of your outfits

if he’s going to do this tiktok, the least he’s going to make sure of is that you both fit his aesthetic 

so you’re wearing typical clothes he’d wear to the gym

his gym clothes are actually stylish though

you will NOT catch atsumu wearing anything ugly that includes gym clothes

unlike a certain other setter who thought wearing plaid shorts was acceptable cough cough oikawa

he chooses to wear a tight dress 

it’s stretchy though so don’t worry he isn't stretching out and ruining your clothes 

“why are you wearing that? you can see a little too much there ratsumu”

“uh so people can see you have a boyfriend that's obviously packin heat 🙄”

“i hate you 😀”

he is hesitant about wearing make up

but you explain to him since you’re doing it you might aswell go all out so he finally gives in

you won’t put a lot on him though just to compromise with him slightly 

light highlight, blended out eyeliner, natural lip colour 

he’s surprisingly impressed and pulls out his phone to take a few selfies before getting ready to film the ‘stupid’ video with you

he insists he doesn't need to practice

“im good at everythin’ i do and everyone is gonna see that when we film this shit”

surprisingly it does only take you guys one attempt to get it right

atsumu is good at body rolls periodt  

he can throw it back 

but his body rolls chileee

he looks flexible asf 

he is serving absolute attitude 

you also did take notice of him using one hand to slyly cover his private area out of modesty though

because he found you were in fact right about how that dress really did show everything 

he incorporates it well into his choreography though nobody would be able to tell he was trying to cover himself 

“baby we look so fuckin hot. im talkin more bout me but you’re still sexy too”

he adds so many hashtags to the caption

#couple #hot #imhotter #fyp #foryoupage #tiktokcouple #couplegoals #hotboy #sexyboy #hotathlete #attractivemale #eboy #trending #makeusfamous

you just roll your eyes and let him get on with it 

im so sorry but you guys don’t get many views

atsumu is pissed

“we put so much effort in why’s it not gettin attention?!”

“calm down babe we only posted it 2 minutes ago”

give it a few days and you guys do blow up though 

im talking 867K likes

and to atsumu’s delight the comments are mostly complimenting you both 

“told ya this was a good idea”

“it was my idea?? 😐”

-

requests are open!!

[og-danny-dorito]

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

-  it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

[jessiebanethedragon]

Your crosshair writings give me life 🥺❤ Could you do something about crosshair and his fem s/o being intimate, but she is nervous and unsure because she is curvy and not slim like him. Please and thank you!

I love this ask! i did my best because i don’t really write NSFW stuff so i kind just hinted at it... so warning suggestiveness (???)  i really hope you like it!

You don't understand how the girls on coruscant can enjoy shopping so much,  they spend entire days waltzing around trying on anything and everything and marvelling how anything they pick up will not only fit on their bodies, but look amazing. But not everyone wears the smallest size, and are graced with whatever maker decided was the perfect proportions. 

And that's what sucks. You can do magic with makeup, and have all the fashion sense in the world, but it's never the curvy girls you see on the Holo-posters around the city. 

So of course when you’re getting out the refresher one night, tired as hell and looking  like the warzone you just cleared, those insecurities seem to be screaming at you. 

Every push and pull or poke you make doesn't seem to have any effect, curves are curves and they're not going anywhere no matter how hard you try. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at beautiful?” His voice flows like lava over rocks, slow steady (and way  too hot) but that doesn't stop you from jumping back and hitting the counter as you whirl around to your boyfriend. 

“Crosshair what the Kriff, get out i’m not dressed!” You exclaim clutching the towel even tighter. Why did he have to be here now, of all times? 

“That's kind of the idea.” He smirks walking over to you, and your cheeks start warming. What are you supposed to tell him, how do you explain that you have a full body and curves you wish didn't exist? You feel his hands ghost up the sides of your arms, and you shiver and step back on instinct. 

“Cyar'ika?” He also takes a step back, “did I overstep?” he looks worried, concerned even. 

“No Cross, it’s fine, I'm fine, I just need to get dressed.” You say, looking at the floor and praying he leaves. 

“Talk to me Cyare, tell me what's wrong and how I can help.” You hate how well he reads you, Crosshair knows, he always knows. You bite your lip. 

“Nothing it’s nothing, I just, you know, it’s one of those days, and well I'm not like you…” you’re rambling, a bad habit really, but you swore the thoughts made sense in your heads. His hands find your arms again and his thumbs move in calming circles, precise as ever. 

“Like i’m not asking to be a size two or anything but god like would it kill them to be a bit more inclusive and like theres these beautiful women and their so slim and you’re so slim and perfect i’m so well you know, and maker it’s so frustrating and for once i wish i could just be…” 

“Wait a minute.” Crosshair interrupts, a finger pulling your lip away from your teeth. - another bad habit. “You better not be saying what i think you’re saying,” you scrunch your face, praying to squish the tears back. 

“I just wanna be pretty.” You mumble, as he pulls you into his chest. 

“If you’re about to suggest that your curves are a bad thing, well, I don't know what I would do.” you pull back. He looks surprised and none you're extra confused. 

“I don’t get it.” You say 

“It’s my favourite thing about you,” his answer is so quick it can’t not be the truth. “You look like you're molded from pantoran pottery. Every curve sinfully designed just to make my life heaven and hell at  the same time.” his head ducks down to lay kisses on the side of your face and neck. 

“But you haven't even seen me.” you gasp as his kisses get more bold and he pulls you flush against him. 

“I don’t have to see you bare to know I'm going to love what's underneath the clothes.” he says looking into your eyes, searching for the sadness he’s determined to destroy.  You blink back at him. 

“Drop the towel.” He grits out, demeanour shifting a full one eighty. Slowly, your arms begin to loosen, you’re hesitant and he can see  that so every inch of skin that gets exposed to him receives praise and a kiss. And as the towel gets closer to the floor the more intense he becomes. 

“Crosshair…” you manage to squeak out, trying your best to remain calm. 

“Perfection.” he states, kissing your hips as he dips to his knees. “I think i know just how to convince you.” He chuckles, that godforsaken smirk on his lips. “But before i do, i need to know that you believe me, that you know how beautiful you are.” You nod, but its not enough. 

“Say it. He says, trailing kisses up your tummy. “Say ‘i’m beautiful, more so than anyone else in the whole galaxy.” 

“Cross-” you start, but you don’t get to finish your objection. 

“Say it cyare, please. For me?” He looks at you with all the love in the universe. 

“I’m beautiful, more so that anyone else.” you stutter out

“In the whole galaxy.” He adds. 

“In the whole galaxy .” You echo, he’s standing in front you you again and he presses a loving kiss to your lips, drawing hums and gasps from you both, 

“Don’t you ever forget that.” he whispers to you. And you nod, forehead touching his, and you feel his smile grow. “Perfect, now i do believe i did promise to convince you though.” he says kneeling down again. And your eyes widen as  he just smirks at you once again.

[mypassionfortrash]

KICKS (part three)

With Roger well shot of Betsy, he’s now free to explore the world of kink and all it has to offer him! But before he can start playing, he’s got to learn how to do it safely. You suggest that he meets two of your best friends to watch them play, and to get some advice and inspiration, to help him discover what he really wants.

Warnings: Strong D/s themes; mentions of medical fetishes and anal sex. STRICTLY 18+. Notes: Thank you so much for all of the amazing feedback I’ve been getting on the first two parts of this – I’m very proud of it and really appreciate every little reblog or comment! We’re gradually getting kinkier here but it’s still gonna be a slow burn! As always, if you like this, please reblog it so people can see it. If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message me 💖

Catch up: Part one // Part two

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @sarahgurl09​ @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy​​ @brianssixpence​​ @hellohellothere12 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @internationalkpoplova @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @six-bloodyminutes @hannafuckingsucks​ @dancingcoolcat​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @theedwardscollection​

You got your second wind when the clock was a few strokes shy of 5. A sudden burst of energy; an overwhelming urge to accomplish something. Today, you had a shipment of new butt plugs to put on display. 

They came in all shapes, colours, textures and sizes. Picking up one of the larger models, ‘Big Red,’ even you with your open mind and questionable taste in fetishes, wondered whose rectum could expand a whole five inches to accommodate it. You didn’t need to wonder much; they attracted a very specific type of customer, and you’d know them anywhere. You shook your head and loaded five of them on to one of the metal hangers with a smile.

Then, the bell above the door tinkled. 

You were so close to emptying the box at your feet and you had to bite back your annoyance when you turned to greet your customer.

All of those feelings subsided when you realised that it was Roger, standing in the doorway with a contented smile on his lips.

“People might talk if you keep showing up here,” you said, going back to your work. “Did you do it?”

Roger wandered up beside you and observed every move you made. “Hello to you too.” He looked down and reached into the box on the floor, plucking out a slim, blue plug. “And yes, I did do it.”

You took the plug – ‘Little Blue’ – from Roger’s grasp and arranged it on the display alongside others of its kind. “How did she take it?” You caught him scowling out of the corner of your eye. “That bad?”

“Weird.”

“You’re in a sex shop. What could be weirder?”

He slipped one of the large red plugs off of the hanger and read the packaging. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. He was unusually quiet.

“She didn’t take it well then?”

“She took it surprisingly well. But she told me why she did what she did.”

You turned to him and folded your arms, preparing to feel your rage towards Betsy Bright reach a simmer. “I’m listening.” 

“She said she was jealous.”

“Of?”

“She said that I have enough bother keeping it in my pants and I’m going on tour soon. Thought I was getting tips so I could go off and find someone ‘more like me’ while I was away, and the jealousy got the better of her. She wasn’t into it.”

A scowl smacked across your face like a slapped arse. “Well, it’s not your fault she’s bad at communicating before there’s a problem. And it doesn’t excuse what she did to you.”

“I know,” he sighed, closing his eyes with a smile. “I’m well shot of her now, thank god.”

“So, what now?”

Roger held up ‘Big Red’ with a grin.

“Roger, no.”

Roger laughed. “What’s a guy got to do to get someone to shove this up his bum?”

“Unspeakable things,” you whispered. “Terrible, awful, sordid things.”

“I’m assuming you start with ‘Little Blue’ and work up to ‘Big Red’ then?”

You tilted your head from left to right. “Yes and no.” Then you pondered. “There’s a couple of steps and a lot of lube in between.”

“And do you wear them when… I don’t know… you’re… doing it?” He stuttered, grinding his hips in a way that was equal parts comical and seductive.

But he was so coy, especially for someone so renowned for their ability to seduce and conquer; it made you giggle. His curiosity was refreshing. “You don’t have to have sex with them in, but they do feel amazing when you do – for men and women.” You searched the vast array of merchandise for something less lewd. “If you’re starting out with anal play, fingers and a lot of lube are fine.” Then your hand settled on a small glass plug. “And then if you want to transition to toys, I like these. They start off quite small. They’re easy to clean and have a really nice weight to them. And you can wear these during sex, or even out and about for small amounts of time. You can increase the size when you’re comfortable, and the duration that you wear them for.”

Roger’s eyes were like saucers when you finished your explanation.

“It makes fitting, you know, dicks and stuff in there a bit smoother,” you added nonchalantly, scratching the back of your head.

Roger elbowed your side and flounced into you. “Not that you’d know, hm?”

You felt a rush of blood go straight to your cheeks. Eager to dodge the question, you loaded the merchandise on to the display in double-time. 

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Roger said, handing you various butt plugs to sort. “I don’t want anything in my arse. Ever.”

Grateful that Roger’s fleeting attention was off of your own posterior, you couldn’t help but make another remark. “You might like it. It’s even more fun for guys.”

“Right.”

“I can get a guy off without even touching his cock,” you boasted.

“Somehow, I don’t think a couple of fingers up my bum is going to do it.”

“No, but if you know which spots to prod, the results are… explosive.”

Like a naughty schoolboy, Roger shot you a bashful smirk while shaking his head. “No.”

“Please yourself.”

“I still want to start learning about all of this though,” he sighed. “And maybe find someone to do it with.”

“You need to learn how to play safely and have a think about what you’re ok with before you even think of playing with a partner.”

“How do I do that?”

“There are places you can go to speak to people who do this,” you hinted. It was a gamble, but you knew it would be an eye-opener for him. “Have you ever been to Doxy?”

“Doxy? What’s that?”

“It’s a dungeon on the other side of town.”

“Like a medieval dungeon?”

You reached out and stroked the side of Roger’s crimson-cheeked face. “You sweet summer child.”

Roger swatted your hand away. “What’s Doxy? Tell me!” he whined like a petulant child.

“Well, sometimes people go there to play. You can rent rooms, throw kinky parties there. Some people run entire businesses out of there.”

“Like kinky prozzies?” he grinned. “You’re telling me to go and see a kinky prozzie?”

“No, Roger,” you sighed, turning to him. “What I’m saying is, do you want to go there tonight with me? I know a couple of people who might be able to give you lots of helpful advice.”

Roger bounced on the balls of his feet like a badly trained, and very excited, puppy. “Ok.”

“And please, for the love of God, when you meet Andie, don’t call her a kinky prozzie.”

“What is she then?”

“She’s a dominatrix.”

“Nice.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She wants me to go with her to a place called ‘Doxy.’ Have you heard of it?” Roger asked, twirling the phone cord around his slender fingertips.

“I’m afraid that’s a world away from what I’m into, my dear,” Freddie’s matter of fact tone crackled over the line. “The girl knows her stuff, though. You should trust her.”

Roger’s free hand lifted a cigarette to his lips and left it dangling. Then he wandered over to his wardrobe. “What the fuck do I wear to a bloody dungeon?”

“Teeny tiny leather shorts and one of those ghastly neckerchiefs you like.”

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Roger sighed.

“What? That’s what I would wear!”

“I don’t think we’re doing anything tonight, though, but yeah – I’ll keep that idea in the back pocket for later!” Roger rifled through his collection of clothing, cursing his decision to discard his many pairs of leather trousers at the turn of the decade.

“What did she say you were going to do?”

“Going to meet two of her friends.”

“That sounds like a bloody dream come true for you, dear. I don’t know why you’re getting your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Pour yourself a drink and don’t think too much on it. Enjoy yourself. She’s a lovely girl.”

Roger chuckled. “Don’t count on that. She was talking to me about butt plugs this afternoon.”

“Good luck with that, Rog,” Freddie laughed.

“Thanks, Fred.”

Roger hung up the phone and turned back to his wardrobe with a sigh. Freddie wasn’t much help and didn’t really put his mind at ease, but at least he was supportive. But he still had no idea what to wear to Doxy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roger tugged  the collar of his coat up against the bitter pitch-black wind. The quiet side street that Doxy was situated on was deserted and made him question whether he had the right place. Glancing up at the inconspicuous sign above the door, he knew he had at least got the name right. Maybe there were other places in London called Doxy. Maybe he had arrived at the wrong one. 

He set his sights on his watch, strapped around his trembling wrist. 

Two more minutes.

He knew how rich that was, coming from him. He was late for everything, and here he was, doubting your timekeeping.

So he lit another cigarette and pulled up his collar once more.

Right as the clock struck eight, you wandered down the cobbles towards the plume of pale smoke dancing in the air outside Doxy. Your fists were balled up inside the pockets of your jacket, trying to strangle the life out of the nerves you felt. You tried to make your legs move a bit faster, but the combination of sky-high heels and a freezing February night made even walking difficult.

Roger’s eyes zeroed in on the movement in their periphery; first, they were wary, and then realisation hit. He flicked his smoke to the ground and took a couple of small steps to close the gap between you and him. A coy, “Hi,” was all he could muster.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Roger swallowed hard and shook his head. “Only a couple of minutes.” Then his hand crept into the breast of his coat, slinking up to that familiar spot at the curve of his neck. A shy smile grew on his lips. “I’m so nervous.”

You brushed your fingertips over the outsides of Roger’s arms, not wanting to give away your own reservations. “It’s going to be ok,” you reassured, focusing on the way the light caught his eyes. “We’re not going to do anything. We’re only going to meet Andie and her sub, Holly, and watch how they do things. To help you stop overthinking things.”

The muscles in Roger’s arms relaxed under your touch as he took a sharp, but measured, breath. “Ok,” he nodded. “Ok. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” you smiled, linking his arm in yours. “We better get a move on.”

The descent into Doxy took forever. Step by step. Steep scarlet step by steep scarlet step. The staircase stretched on for what felt like miles below street level. The only illumination on offer came from sporadic lamps fixed to the brickwork. “You weren’t lying when you called this a dungeon,” Roger said.

You giggled when you reached the bottom of the stairs. “That’s the tip of the iceberg. Here,” you said, holding out your hand, “let me take your coat.”

Roger slipped it off and handed it to you with a smile. Then he watched you disappear towards the cloakroom, fixating on the way your hips swung like a pendulum from left to right in your skintight leather trousers. Instinctively, his fingers laced together in front of his abdomen. Without you to admire, Roger glanced around, taking in snapshots of the people around him. Latex, leather, lace. Everywhere. Suddenly, he felt underdressed for the occasion in his stonewash jeans and a cosy jumper. But one thing struck him. For all the clubs that Roger had visited, he had never been inside a place like Doxy; there were no bars or disco balls, no dance floor and no gaggles of drunken hens. Instead, everything moved slowly in a sultry haze. People dripped into the corridor to Roger’s right; it was lined with rooms. Roger’s mind wandered, imagining what the people did behind those doors. He truly was a fish out of water.

You sauntered back to Roger now without your jacket, allowing him an unrestricted view of your outfit. He focused a bit too intently on the sliver of cleavage your black bralette put on display. So much so that he missed what you were saying to him. Not once, but twice.

He snapped back to reality with a stern click of your fingers in front of his eyes. He recoiled at the sound. “Sorry,” he said, casting his gaze towards his shoes.

“Do you want to go through? They’re going to start at half-past,” you said, looking at your watch.

Roger’s eyes lit up as he stood up straight. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your heel. It took him a moment to catch up, and when he did, you leaned in close to him so he could hear you. “Now, remember – don’t call them kinky prozzies.”

Roger’s face bunched into a tickled grin. His body nudged against your own, reinforcing his amusement.

The pair of you marched down the long, red corridor until you reached the second door from the end on your left. The black door had a small, shiny plaque that read, ‘medical bay.’

Roger’s eyes shifted to you, his eyebrows hiking high on his forehead.

You smirked at him and knocked on the door.

Holly answered the door looking like her usual excitable self. “You’ve made it just in time!” She said, throwing her arms around the two of you. “Andie’s getting antsy!”

You and Roger stepped into the room to find Andie puttering around over a tray of intimidating instruments. Needles, syringes and speculums were the only ones you could recognise, but that was enough to send a steely chill through your spine. She wore an aqua coloured latex gown, complete with red boots and gauntlets, and a mask obscuring the lower half of her face.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled. You could tell from her ocean coloured eyes that she was smiling. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sister,” you grinned. 

“So this is your friend?” she asked, nodding towards Roger.

Holly, standing there in a black silk robe, drew her hand down Roger’s arm. “I like him,” she said.

“You know, we could have lots of fun with him,” Andie remarked.

It earned a nervous giggle from Roger. His eyes struggled to focus on just one thing. From the stirrups at the end of the bed, to the intimidating-looking gas mask on the table beside it. “This is… this is… different,” he choked.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Hollie beamed, shaking Roger’s arm. “Have you been here before?”

“He’s completely new to this,” you said. “And he still needs breaking in.”

Andie arched one of her over-lined and exaggerated eyebrows like she already knew what was happening – before you and Roger did.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you asked, thrusting your hands into your back pockets.

“Just an examination,” Holly said, perching herself on the edge of the bed. “With a twist!”

“Like…” Roger asked, gesturing towards his nether regions, “A ‘down there’ examination?”

You, Andie and Holly exchanged knowing looks. When Roger cottoned on, his mouth fell open.

“Why don’t you observe from the gallery?” Andie suggested, gesturing towards the door in the far corner of the room. “Don’t want you two making this any more awkward than it has to be for our patient here.”

>>NEXT>>

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Christmas Event, Part One

For you Dex/Wright Farling people who have wondered how Dex and Wright got along early on, they, uh… didn’t. But the Christmas Event is the catalyst for the way everything else will change between them, and here is Part One! 

This is a collaboration between @spiffythespook and myself. Wright Farling and Jordan are her OCs, while Dex and Karen Renford are mine. Please heed content warnings.

Karen is 28 in this piece, while Wright and Dex are 25 and 23 and Jordan is thirteen. 

CW: Whump involving a minor (not much, primarily at the beginning and offscreen), some mouth whump (knife in mouth), caning, blood, dehumanizing language, pet whump, noncon touching and kissing, references to noncon

Karen Renford had never visited for Christmas before, but Wright had ensured that everything would be perfect when she arrived. All he needed to do was finish up just… one… thing.

Wright took Jordan’s chin in hand, tilting his head up so he could better run the flat of his knife over the boy’s cheek. Kindness kept his eyes down, kept very still even while he trembled. He knew by now how to be good. Wright smiled and slipped the tip of his knife between the boy’s lips, gently scraping one of his teeth.

“Open, darling,” he murmured. Jordan did, his eyes fluttering as he tried very hard to stay still. Wright slid the blade in to rest on his tongue, which he felt press back when Jordan swallowed back the pool of saliva that had gathered so quickly.

The doorbell rang its pleasant, soft tune, but Kindness jumped nevertheless. Wright tsked when the boy pricked his tongue, blood on the tip of the knife. “Close, darling. Hold this for me between your teeth.”

Fear-filled eyes glanced up at him and Wright’s hand was suddenly up and out, ready to respond. The boy’s eyes were down quickly. He closed his teeth, sweat gathering on his brow and eyes closing tightly with focus. “Mhm,” Wright ruffled his hair and walked past his bound, collared, kneeling boy, leaving him on the floor by the tree as he went to get the door.

He smiled brightly at his guest when he opened. “Karen! Darling. Merry Christmas.”

Snowflakes rested without melting in Karen Renford’s long, elaborately twined and braided auburn hair. She had on a calf-length camel-colored coat and no doubt something immensely stylish underneath.

She smiled warmly back at him, holding up a bottle of red wine. “Wright! I think we only just beat the storm. I might have to ask you if we can keep using your guest room a day or so longer than we planned. But, maybe you won’t mind so much if I brought gifts, like the best wine I’ve ever had, and, ah… other things. Speaking of other things I brought…”

She snapped her fingers and a tall, thin young man - about the same age as Wright - seemed to materialize at her elbow. His dark hair was cut short and he wore a green leather collar around his neck with DEX stamped in gold on the front. Wearing a sweater that perfectly matched in color and dress pants, it was only the collar - and the way his eyes were fixed slightly down, a little blank - that gave away what he was. 

Wright’s eyes skimmed over the young man, and then he took the bottle with a murmured, Beautiful, and set it down on the side table inside.

Dex was carrying a pile of boxes of varying sizes in one hand and the handle to another shopping bag full of even more, all of them pristinely gift-wrapped, in the other. A long, thin, custom-carved bit of shining black wood stuck out of the bag, tipped on the end with pristine silver that had a sharpened end.

Wright blinked in surprised at the sight of the boxes. “Oh, darling. You shouldn’t have,” he smirked, knowing full well that it was no skin off her nose - in fact, she enjoyed bringing an excess. “Of course, I would love to have you stay longer over the holiday. Or forever, but I know how you like your space~”

He stepped back, opening the door to invite them in. Wright himself was dressed well for the occasion - a dark blue, well-fit turtleneck that brought out his eyes, his best pants and shoes. Simple, but all excellent quality. He had been playing, after all - wouldn’t want to wear anything too light in color.

“Gifts under the tree, please, Dex. Say hello to Kindness, I’m sure he misses you.” He kept his eyes on Karen, held out his hand to her as he closed the door. “Allow me take your coat, love. I’ve got the house just the temperature you like.”

“Honestly, Wright, you spoil us.” Karen gave a short nod and Dex moved only at her command, walking into the house with his eyes fixed on his next goal, on fulfilling the order he was given. He never looked at Wright, but there was already a hint of a flush to his face, and a cold glint in his eyes.

“One perk of a job like mine,” Karen said, sliding her coat off her shoulders to reveal the slim dark sweater and pants she wore underneath and kicking off her casual slides to leave by the fire, “is that you might have to work 14-hour days but they never try to keep you at holidays. It’s not like the products even know what day it is. Plus, I wouldn’t want to do anything else - we’ve made some real inroads with conditioning you’ll have to hear about.”

Dex’s eyes skimmed over ornaments and lights without taking much in before he glanced to the side, to see Jordan. He signed hello - his signs were shaky, but he was getting better at them. Then his eyebrows furrowed, just slightly, in something like real concern at the knife in his teeth as he glanced back over his shoulder at Wright and Karen.

Jordan looked up at Dex and nodded in response to the hello, trying to offer a bit of a smile. He would’ve signed back - he’d been learning along with Wright - but he was bound.

“Oh, lovely. I look forward to hearing about that particular topic. You always achieve such marvelous things,” Wright smiled. He paused a beat, before he turned to frown at the two boys. “Snitch, I didn’t hear a response. Don’t be so rude.”

Jordan felt a shock of fear at the name, swallowed, flushed, breathing heavily as he tried not to cut himself. He looked up at Dex, swallowed again, tried to figure out how to do this. He held onto the knife tightly between his teeth, but raised his lips and tried to manage a hello from the back of his throat.

Wright hummed happily. “… and to our lovely guest. Recall the holiday.”

His chest heaved, but he looked over at Karen miserably and attempted Merry Christmas. He almost cut himself on the S’s and the hard beginning of Christmas, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

“Hm. Good boy. What do you think, love?” he smiled to Karen, tilting his head.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” Karen breathed out with real appreciation. “Wright, the work you do. Well, mine is obviously far more clinical, but you know I never miss an opportunity to appreciate this kind of… genuine craftsmanship. Honestly, I don’t think I have a single coworker who could ever match you, and it’s what we do for a living. You… you give these boys a gift.”

Wright bit his lip a bit, as she spoke, smiled, let his emotions play over his face like he did for no one else. He paused a moment after she spoke. “Thank you, darling. There is a real difference between what we do for pleasure and what we do for money. I have such freedom to craft, and I wouldn’t be as… tidy… without inspiration from you. So thank you doubly, I suppose.” His smile grew wider. “You should see how well he doesn’t listen, now.”  

Dex kept a careful eye out, and when the two monsters were looking at each other, he signed a quick I’m sorry to Jordan, mouthing the words along with it. He didn’t even know for sure if Jordan could understand the sign, but he always seemed to know what he was trying to say, anyway.

Jordan nodded back, just a little. His name wasn’t Kindness without reason, he thought painfully - and he wasn’t about to stop being kind just because Wright liked it.

“What do you say,” Karen said brightly, “we pop open this wine and get started? The weather outside is frightful and if I don’t have to catch an early flight any longer, well… we might as well get to have some fun tonight.”

Dex winced.

“That sounds lovely. Come with me to the kitchen if you like - or cozy by the fire and I’ll be over,” he said smoothly, taking up the bottle and all but dancing to the kitchen. Really, he was too free a spirit for the kind of spirit he was. He found the corkscrew in a drawer and opened the bottle himself, collected a pair of wine glasses that would compliment this particular one.

“If you don’t mind, love, I’ll take the fire - I’m still shaking the cold out of my bones, not to mention that rocky plane landing.” Karen stretched, feeling her spine move and muscles shift, a hint of a nagging ache in her lower back from the plane ride. First class could only do so much, after all. Although the champagne helped.

“Twenty-eight and it’s all downhill from here,” She mused, smiling over at Jordan and ruffling his hair with her hand as she moved past him to settle onto the couch close to the fire. “You’re looking lovely, little one. Much more well-behaved than the first time I met you, hm?”

He heard her coming and sat very straight, but he still wasn’t prepared for the touch. Jordan flinched a little, nicking his tongue on the knife in his mouth. His eyes followed her and he swallowed again, oh-so-careful, and nodded in response.

Wright called from the kitchen. “Would you have Dex bring this cheese tray I prepared earlier?”

“Of course, dear. You know Dex is always at your absolute disposal. Dex. To Wright.” Karen snapped her fingers again and Dex moved with speed and a grace that made it look much more effortless than it was. His shoulders were tense as he moved into the kitchen, his eyes on just about anything but Wright Farling.

Wright’s eyes remained on Dex the moment the boy walked into the kitchen. “On the counter, here. Discard the wrap, please.” He gestured to the corner using the hand which held the wine bottle. When Dex moved to take the tray, Wright stood too closely to him, leaning his one hand on the counter and stretching the glasses out in the opposite direction, fencing the other man in.

He smiled when Dex turned, first making sure the man wasn’t looking him in the eye… and then looking down over him, observing.

“You’re less nervous, handsome,” Wright mused, head tilting to the side. He grinned widely. “Mm… less here.”

Dex froze with the meat tray in his hands, his fingers tightening around the cool metal edge of the tray until his knuckles were white. It was pure instinct, and Dex knew it wouldn’t do him any good - it never did, with Mr. Farling - but he pressed himself back against the countertop, trying to put some space between them unobtrusively, without making it obvious.

He couldn’t sign, with the tray in his hands, so all he did was swallow hard - feeling the leather of his collar shift along his throat - and slowly nod, keeping his eyes fixed on a point just over Wright’s shoulder.

He couldn’t quite stop the shudder, and Wright cottoned on to that like blood in the water. He leaned forward over the collared man, awkward though it was with the tray between them. Wright’s eyes remained on Dex’s, made sure he was still following that one simple instruction he had for every boy. He hovered inches from Dex’s neck for a long moment.

Then smirked and leaned closer, mouth open. He scraped his teeth closed on Dex’s neck, not catching skin, and then pressed a soft kiss over the graze.

At the press of lips, Dex flinched back and made an odd, hoarse low noise, moving to mouth a please don’t that never left his throat.

Wright’s eyes darkened as he pulled away. He stared a moment, sighed, and then set down the wine bottle firmly on the counter, slowly pushing it back and out of the way. He took the tray out of Dex’s suddenly-trembling hands and set that down, too, then took the man’s jaw tightly in hand and pressed rather closely to him, legs nearly touching.

“Doesn’t Karen teach you not to flinch?” he said, head tilted in such a way that implied a coming kiss to the mouth. He waited.

Dex forced himself to stare at the copper pan hanging artfully on the opposite wall and carefully brought his hands up, too aware of Wright’s fingers on his jaw. He signed I’m sorry, but they were pressed so close together now that his hands grazed Wright’s shirt.

“Mhhhmmm,” Wright hummed, “I’m sure you are.” He leaned in to press his mouth to the corner of Dex’s, eyes still open and watching. Held for a beat. Pulled away.

He knew it was a trap - Wright Farling was always a trap, and Karen always always smiled and let Wright do whatever he wanted to him - but still, as Wright pulled back Dex’s dark eyes flickered to meet his. It was only a moment of eye contact before they widened in panic as he caught himself. He looked quickly back to the side, trying to focus on the light off the copper pan against the wall.

His hands jerked, a little, signing I’m sorry again, a little desperately, the signs bleeding into each other as his hands shook.

Wright smiled and laughed softly, reaching past Dex and over the tray for the bottle of wine. He shook his head. “Get the tray, Dex. Come on,” he said, as if good-naturedly.

As he returned to the living room, he noticed Jordan’s eyes set on the floor in front of him. “Oh yeah, that knife… hm, in a moment.” He gave Karen her glass and poured her wine first, waiting for her to indicate enough.

Karen had settled herself in quite contentedly, with one of Wright’s beautifully vibrant, fur-lined cable-knit throws pulled over her lap and her feet up on the couch to the side, looking up at the tree with all the delight of a child on Christmas morning. She maybe let Wright pour for just a touch longer than was altogether seemly before giving him an impish little smile. “Thank you, Wright, that’ll be lovely as a start. I know you are always stocked with the best, but I had this with dinner a few weeks ago and thought you really needed to try it.”

“I’m always open to new things,” he smiled, pouring himself a modest glass. He smelled and tasted, inclined his glass and then set it down. “Lovely. You’re so thoughtful, darling - you spoil me.”

Wright walked over to his kneeling boy, hands in the pockets of his trousers as he took in the view. He tilted his head slightly to watch Dex, just behind him with the tray of meat, cheese, and fruit ready.

He was back to his distant emotionless expression, but Karen noted the not-altogether-hidden flush in his face. Her smile widened, just slightly - not with warmth or joy but with a predator’s instinct for a prey animal’s discomfort.

Karen sat up, taking a long drink from her glass, and slowly leaned over to catch Dex’s attention as he set the tray on the low-set coffee table. “Dex, darling.” Light brown eyes raised, briefly, as his lips thinned. “You’ll be attending to Mr. Farling’s needs while we’re here. The poor dear hardly has the time for real company, what with the time involved in his project. You always have such fun in my dear friend’s bed, don’t you?”

Dex’s eyes fluttered closed, and he took in a slow breath, trying not to admit to himself that the flush in his skin went deeper, and darker. He always ended up in Wright Farling’s bed sooner or later.

Wright smiled, not at all hiding his gaze as he checked Dex out. He turned his attention to his own poor boy, though. Wright crouched, hands clasped between his legs, and looked over his Kindness. Sweating, drooling around the blade. Nude, perfectly complemented by the warm Christmas tree lights.

“You won’t flinch for me, will you darling?” he said playfully. Jordan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He shook his head very slightly as Wright took the handle of the knife. “Good boy. Suck.”

Jordan’s eyes widened and went to the ceiling, then the floor, everywhere but at Wright. But he didn’t flinch. He squeezed them shut, soon, slowly closing his mouth around the blade, dreading the consequences of obeying the command.

Wright laughed. “No, no. Stop. I just wanted to see, love-” he smiled as Jordan heaved a breath and a couple tears tracked down his cheeks. Wright took the handle. “Good boy. I won’t ruin your mouth, don’t you worry. Open up, I’ll slide this out.”

Karen took another drink, watching with fascination, her eyes locked on the little demonstration of abject obedience.

If she exhaled a little more audibly than normal, well, that was to be expected, wasn’t it? You could hardly ask her to maintain composure when shown the work of an absolute artisan in a field she sometimes felt was far too full of journeymen simply out to make money.

Dex kept his eyes away from them - it was all he could do for poor Jordan, all he could do for himself - and sank to his knees next to the spot where Wright had been sitting, hands laying on his thighs, fixing his eyes on a particular string of Christmas lights until they lost focus and became pretty, blurry little orbs that meant nothing.

"Sweet boy,” Karen said, eyes still on Jordan. “Sweet, sweet boy. Will your Kindness be staying up late with us this evening? I daresay we’ll be up long past his bedtime.”

“Hm. He certainly can,” Wright murmured, taking his sweet time extracting the blade. The moment it was fully from Jordan’s mouth, no longer even resting on his lip, the boy inhaled loudly, almost like a sob, chest heaving. Wright cupped his cheek and slowly ran his thumb over the bone. Then he gave Jordan a couple light pats there - more like slaps, really - and walked over to sit down by Karen’s feet.

He rested his arm - knife still in hand, wet with blood and saliva - on the back of the couch, legs open, body facing in her direction. He patted Dex’s head and reached for his wine. “I have been so looking forward to this time with you, love. What do you want to do, late this evening?”

“Hm, well. We’ll have to open gifts - I bought your sweet Kindness a few things. Clothes, mostly, I saw a few things when I was in New York last month… well. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll of course take them back if I overstep.”

She waved her hand again, unoffended and unbothered either way. Wright of all people understood her penchant for gift-giving, a way to show affection when she couldn’t - and wouldn’t- touch. Wright nodded, understanding and figuring it couldn’t hurt to put the boy in clothes now and then.

“As for us… Remember I told you about my work expo back in September… the industry is really running with new ideas and I picked you up a few things, too, alongside my usual ‘too many’ gifts. Dex, show Mr. Farling.”

Dex jumped into motion as soon as his name was spoken, moving to the tree to pick the long, shining black cane - unwrapped, it would only ruin the moment to try and wrap something so instantly recognizable - and bring it back. He hesitated, one hand trembling just slightly, before he went back to his knees to hold it out.

“This, Wright darling, is brand new. Built to last.”

Wright tipped back some wine, looking at his friend with a measure of surprise. He set down the glass on the table. He admired Dex on his knees for a moment, before taking the cane in hand and admiring it, too. The weight in his hands, the smoothness of the wood. Yet, calculated, he looked over at Karen again questioningly. “I’m flattered, love, but the skill level doesn’t yet match the tool. You really do spoil me,” he said, pouting slightly. He kissed the end of it, if only because he couldn’t kiss her - and Dex was no replacement.

Karen smiled at him over the rim of her wineglass, looking perhaps the youngest she ever had, thrilled just to see him hold it. “We have time to work on that,” She said brightly. She had a flush to her face from the wine - a weakness she didn’t often indulge in, in front of others, because she never let anyone see her less than perfectly composed… except for Wright, of course.

“The skill level may not yet match… but we can fix that. Dex, hands out.”

Wright hummed softly, amused and appreciative, and rotated the cane loosely in his hands. Dex looked up and over at her, surprised, and opened his mouth as though he’d protest. When she crooked an eyebrow, his mouth snapped shut again and he brought both hands slowly out, palms facing the floor, knuckles displayed. He couldn’t quite keep his eyes on the floor, though, and looked at the cane through his eyelashes with his chin tucked down, absolutely focused on it.

“Your problem, darling, is you never pull punches. It’s a strength, and I adore you for it… but when you’re handling something as precise as this, you have to pull the blow at the last second, make the moment last.”

“So you’re saying this isn’t for beating men to a pulp,” he responded jokingly and moved to his feet, his hold still relaxed on the implement. “Alright. Single-handed or both? Actually - would you demonstrate, love? I’ll watch to learn and not simply admire this time.”

Karen’s smile widened as she leaned over to set her wineglass down, shifting the blanket from her legs and standing up, slowly, giving it some thought and casting a critical eye at Dex, whose tense shoulders relaxed, just a little. “If I’m going to demonstrate, we’ll need a better canvas. Shirt, Dex.”

Dex’s shoulders tensed again, and in silence he pulled the sweater he was wearing off over his head, folded it neatly, and set it in a perfect square of cloth on the coffee table. Without waiting for the order, he moved until he was out further into the floor, in an area with more space. Wright took the opportunity to pour himself more wine, sipping as he watched.

Karen gave a little hum, happy to see the thoughtless obedience in action - happier still to have Wright see it. She walked, bare feet on the beautiful floors, until she was standing behind him, surveying the scarred but currently mostly unmarked skin. “Lucky for Dex you didn’t wait until I was three glasses in,” She said, tapping the cane lightly on Dex’s back.

Dex flinched, but then stilled himself, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.

Wright laughed softly, eyes dark with pleasure and sadistic admiration. She was beautiful. Dex was… Dex was her ever-more-perfect work. He circled them slowly, leaving enough distance for Karen to reach as she needed. The image of them together, in seasonably warm light, was divine art. Speaking of divine art-

“Kindness, if I hear a single whimper from you, you’ll regret your very existence. So keep quiet, darling,” he warned. Wright prefer nothing disturb his peace.

“As I said, the secret is to pull your strength at just the last second, while still maintaining control over the blow.” Karen’s voice had gone into something of a lecturing tone - still warm and melodic, but with the easy authority she held over her coworkers at the Facility. “First, I’ll show you - although I suppose it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

When she brought the cane down for the first strike, her arm barely seemed to move - it was with surgical precision that she decided on the right spot, set herself to aim, and the black cane went through the air with a soft ssshhh before - indeed with the barest bit of a pause - it came down in a perfect vertical line right down Dex’s spine.

He jerked forward, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants, hissing through his teeth. Then, slowly, he forced himself to lean back into the starting position. Wright inhaled softly, soaking up Dex’s reaction. And then he replayed what he’d just seen in his fresh memory, attempted to quickly hide it away. Hm. Well, that wouldn’t do long-term, but it would for a moment.

“I could do a few more for you? Or I’d be happy to help you. Some of the younger handlers have no clue what they’re doing, it’s really atrocious… I give a lot of lessons at work.”

“Let me try a couple, and critique me. I don’t think I’ve quite got the right image, but after I undoubtedly fuck up, I’ll be happy to watch you demonstrate again. Do you mind?” he held his glass to her and extended his hand to take the cane. Dex felt heat behind his eyes, and closed them tightly.

This was going to hurt.

Wright copied her grip, aimed to strike a line parallel to hers, then readjusted. “Oh, fuck-” he muttered, figuring he was overthinking it, and then hit. He did genuinely forget to pull at the last moment and winced at the resulting sound. Not, of course, because he disliked hearing pain - because he’d forgotten.

Dex was half-thrown forward by the force of the blow this time, catching himself with his palms on the floor, crying out.  Along his back the line was straight enough, but instead of the simple red weal Karen had brought to the surface, the second line was deep and already beginning to well up with beads of blood. Still, Dex pushed himself back on his hands and went back to starting position, breathing harder now, starting to sweat.

“I’ll redo that.” He did, and held back. This line went parallel on the other side, and Dex only jerked again, the low hiss his only giveaway that it still hurt. Karen stepped up close, head tilted, looking with clinical expertise at Wright’s work.

“Dex? Thoughts?”

Dex, hands shaking, signed left hurts, right better. Thank you. Then he dropped his hands back to his thighs, closed his eyes, and tried to keep his breathing even, waiting for the next round. Wright inhaled sharply at the gratitude - oh, he was far too appreciative of that, far too soon.

“See the difference, Wright?” Karen indicated the two marks on either side of Dex’s spine. “If you hit like you did on the left, you’ll knock them out from the shock before they learn anything. Pull your strength like you did here, though… you could keep going with Dex all night and he wouldn’t pass out until dawn. Never hit to draw blood - the blood will come, love, it will. You have to hit for the pain.”

“Mhm, I see-” he responded, eyes on her more than Dex. He could look at Dex as he hit him. Wright was flushed now, pupils dilated, and not from wine.  “I see how this works for you. Very useful - much easier to manage than cutting. Show me a new angle, love. I have vertical memorized.”

“I just don’t have the patience for cutting like you do, I think,” Karen admitted, taking the cane back from him, considering its dangerous black shine. “The cane is… faster.” She considered for a moment, and then her expression brightened, stealing another sip of wine from Wright’s glass with a look of pure mischievous joy on her face. He took the glass back and drank from it, pleased to share. “You know what… let me show you something I’ve been working on with Dex to present at work. This one is a bit tricky, but it’s fun. Twenty-Three, Dex.”

Dex swallowed, licking at his lips, betraying his nervousness as he shifted first onto hands and knees and then slowly lowered his chest to the floor, palms flat on the ground and hips up in the air behind him.

“Oh, lovely,” Wright smiled.

Karen didn’t hesitate, only walked away from Wright and around to the side in a few quick motions, and the cane came down across his back in a perfect diagonal from the top of the rightmost mark to the bottom of the left. Dex jerked, just slightly, but didn’t even hiss this time. “You have to have a bit more control, but there’s a bit of added excitement with the legs available, don’t you think? Makes them sing.”

Another quick few steps, another slash of the cane - this time across the backs of Dex’s thighs, right over the fabric of his pants. Dex jerked hard and cried out in pain, fingers moving as if he could dig his way through the floor, only barely holding himself still.

Wright finished his glass, for now ignoring a problem that roused between his legs. He would’ve moaned at the sound alone if he had less control. “Would you show me again? I’m afraid I was distracted by the wrong… form,” he smiled, finally tearing his eyes away from Dex.

Karen laughed.

The cane flew through the air again, with perfect surgical targeting, and Dex was caught fully off-guard this time - too distracted by the sound of Karen’s open, honest laughter to brace himself. He collapsed briefly onto his stomach on the floor, cry more gasp than sound this time, and struggled to push himself back up into Twenty-Three fast enough.

“Well,” Karen said, considering him as he moved, legs shaking. “Someone stopped paying the proper attention, and this time it wasn’t you.”

“I saw that time. I can take it up, unless you’d like a couple more strikes. You know…” Wright hummed, set down the glass once more, and leaned down to press his hand to Dex’s lower back. “If I hit him here, horizontally, and didn’t pull my hit… I’d end up paralyzing him from the waist down.”

How was that relevant? Oh, it probably wasn’t. But Wright was still thinking it - easily distracted -  and he found his thoughts rarely displeased Karen.

Dex froze under Wright’s touch, just barely back into form. His eyes were on the floor, carefully focused, but wide and the whites showed all around them.

Karen let the moment draw out, watching Dex’s back move rapidly with his breathing, up into Wright’s hand and away from it as best he could, again and again. Let the silence grow - watching her boy’s face. Then she held out the cane. “Why, Wright, darling… I’m not sure Dex likes you.”

Wright smiled and looked down at the boy, head tilted. Dex swallowed hard, closed his eyes tightly, and rested his forehead on the floor, every muscle tense.

“That’s heartbreaking,” he said, in an amused tone that clearly indicated otherwise. He stood and took the cane, but let the end rest at that point he’d touched a moment ago, still thinking about that. Mute and paralyzed, what would Dex manage?

Dex’s back shifted at the light touch of the cane. He fought an instinctive urge to get away from it, forced himself to hold still only with serious, visibly obvious effort.

Wright smiled, laughed softly, and then pulled the cane back and adjusted. He really had missed Karen’s form for the diagonal strikes, but he figured he’d do his best. He lay two hits, one soon after the other, crossing Karen’s at perfect angles. He likely hadn’t pulled enough, and expected that he’d bruise or break the skin a bit.

Karen watched with clinical detachment, if still looking entirely too amused, as Dex hissed with each strike, fingers curling into fists, keeping his head against the floor. “Hm. Not bad, Wright - he’ll bleed a bit from that one, but the other really is lovely. See, this…” She stepped in, drawing a finger up the growing red welt, the soft beads of blood smearing, and Dex made a soft, pleading sound in response. “… this isn’t bad, for bleeding. He’ll feel it for days. If you were in training as my employee I’d reprimand you for it, but this is for fun, so… for entertainment, this little bit of blood isn’t going to be a problem. He’ll still heal fast, without scarring - unless you want him to scar. Then you can just disregard all I said about pulling your strength. Hold on, I want to pick up my wine.”

Karen stepped quickly back over to sweep her glass up from the coffee table, glancing over at Jordan, then back at Wright. “He really is quiet this time. Last time I was able to get here for a visit he was nowhere near this well-behaved.”

She paused, then with a dismissive wave said, “If you promise to pull your strength enough so he can walk, have a chance at Dex’s legs. I don’t allow anything that damages my boy for life, but I trust you.”

“Hm. I promise,” he responded, eyes now on Jordan. He’d saved those memories - frustrating as fresh boys were, terribly behaved as they were, the end result was nothing without the memory of how they began. “Play with him, if you like. He’s been very good lately. Not finished, but very good.”

Wright held back his strength and pulled, laying three strikes over Dex’s thighs to run parallel to Karen’s. Then he smirked and held the cane between the man’s legs, riding up his perineum to his cleft. “You’ll want to be very still, Dex,” he murmured.

Dex was in a world of pain from his shoulder blades down, eyes closed to try and ride out the worst of it - but he stiffened at the press of the smooth wood between his legs, let out a low soft whimper, not quite a plea.

It wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t beg with words and Wright would only have taken begging as encouragement, anyway. He closed his fists tightly enough that he could feel his own fingernails pricking into the skin of his palms and nodded, head still pressed to the floor, feeling the slightest hint of gratitude, in some dark place inside him, that Wright had given him warning at all.

Wright gave him that moment of pause before laying the threatened strike - light and fast, but Wright could imagine the hell of that pain.

Dex screamed, and then collapsed again, making choked-off animalistic sounds hoarse in his throat. He didn’t push himself back up this time, too lost in the pain.

Karen watched with bright, sparkling eyes, unwilling to look away for even a moment.

Wright bit at his lip, eyes closing as he listened. This was the music he loved. On one hand, he ought to keep going, to correct Dex for not pushing himself up. On the other…well. He was generous. “Up,” he said, reaching down to hook his hand into Dex’s pants and maneuver him back onto his knees.

Jordan whimpered softly from where he sat, and Wright… stopped. He let go of Dex, turning to his own boy - defiant and pleading, but not very wise. Wright knew the trading game he was being roped into, and his sense of fairness and his desire to inflict punishment warred with the pleasure he could indulge if he ignored his boy. Jordan knew, too - instinctually, nothing he could articulate - and he made eye contact as he whimpered again.

Karen rolled her eyes, looking over at Jordan with the expression of someone pissed off that the intermission came so soon during an opera. “Really?” She asked, raising her eyebrows, taking a long drink of her wine. “Now?”

Jordan swallowed and glanced at Karen, keeping his expression carefully schooled before he looked back at Master. He ought to worry about her, but he didn’t care.

Dex, breathing in a mix of harsh pants and low whines as the pain radiated through nearly all of his body, looked up still at the whimper, meeting Jordan’s eyes, trying to shake his head and struggling even to manage that much coherency. He tried to take a deep breath - it didn’t work, but trying still counted for something - and his fingers grabbed at the fabric of Wright’s pant leg. He pushed himself all the way up to kneeling, whining with the pain, and signed, hands shaking and barely intelligible, No, please, not him. He is good.

Wright’s attention was recaptured by Dex’s fingers on his leg, and the impressive fortitude of the other man. It was satisfying, but not enough. “No, he isn’t. I told him to be quiet,” he said, hand clenching the cane tightly. He was furious. Jordan couldn’t have done this any other day? After he was just praising him, too.

He stared back at the boy, giving himself more time before he did anything hasty, trying to calculate. Punishment was necessary, but he was vaguely aware that the boy was controlling him.

Finally, with a breath like a man coming up from a long swim underwater, he laughed and smiled at Karen. “Would you punish him for me? I’m busy,” he added, tilting his head at Jordan… who suddenly looked lost. He hadn’t thought of that.

Karen finished the rest of her wine in one long drink, setting the glass carefully down on the table and looking at Jordan again, in a different way. Calculating, considering. The warmth in her face when she was looking at Wright was gone all at once - as though a light switch had been shut off, and what was left was something very dark indeed. This time, Jordan was afraid.

“Of course,” She said, softly, her head slowly tilting. “I’d like your leave to untie him, though. Rules of engagement?”

“…Fine. I don’t care,” Wright grit his teeth. “Keep him alive and able to move.”

A sense of dread curled in Jordan, an anxiousness that came with not knowing. Wright never set such loose boundaries, and he never didn’t care.

Dex pulled in a harsh breath through his nose and let it out again, dropping his hand from Wright’s leg and staring, fury and resignation warring in his face, back down at the floor.

He looked at Dex at the movement, circled the man and lay a fresh vertical stripe on his back. “What are you pissed about?” he snapped, not looking for an answer, and followed up the stripe with parallel.

The constant throbbing between his legs had overwhelmed Dex’s usual control over himself during a caning and he jerked forwards again, hard, with each stripe, unable to stop the sounds he made. The expression on his face, though, he couldn’t hide - furious anger that he could do nothing with, that Wright was doing this to children, where Dex at least was a grown man who had signed up for…  not this, but something like it even if he didn’t remember doing so.

His hands jerked, finger twitching, as he fought the urge to sign something incredibly stupid.

Wright ignored that for now, focusing on caning a cross-hatch of sorts into Dex’s back instead. For now.

Karen moved to Jordan, watching him with cold eyes as she undid the bindings one by one, taking her time. Her movements were businesslike, clinical - there was no hint of intimacy in any of it. As though Jordan weren’t human at all. He didn’t mind - in fact, he preferred the clinical touch over Wright’s uncomfortable ones.

“I flew straight from a very intense day at work for this get-together,” She said in her low, warm voice. “Do you understand? Don’t answer that, children don’t ever understand the work adults do. I brought Dex for a reason, child.” She gripped Jordan by the chin, jerking it to meet her eyes - she had no rules like Wright’s, and wanted him to understand that he could not rely on the same expectations with her.

“I was enjoying myself. And now you’ve gone and upset maybe the best person I’ve ever had the honor to know. I do not enjoy that. Do you think Dex appreciates you getting yourself injured on his behalf, Jordan? Do you think he appreciates your kindness?”

Jordan had been glaring at her, ready to spit something at her about Wright being the ‘best person’ she knew and that not being impressive at all. But what she said about Dex caught him off-guard. He tried to look over, out of the corner of his eye, to see if Dex was mad at him. It had been an accident - he thought he could distract Wright… Jordan wasn’t used to having someone else to think about, and that had been so painful for Dex.

Dex had curled over himself on his knees on the floor, taking each hit without trying to escape it. He glanced up, catching Jordan’s eyes on him, and managed a hint of a thin smile - some attempt at reassurance - before Wright’s next blow hit and he tried as best he could to swallow the sound of pain.

He jerked one hand towards his face - figuring the first thing a kid would do if he was learning sign is look up the curse-words - and managed to sign bastard. Then dropped both hands to sign limp, rolling his eyes back towards Wright. Jordan felt a little laugh in his chest, but he didn’t let it up. He was very careful not to let it up, even if his eyes brightened a little. His eyes stayed on Dex until Karen started to talk.

“You don’t see it - I understand,” She said with something like real understanding and compassion. Jordan’s eyes flicked back to her. “Children are so weak for animals and insects. One day, if you’re good, if you learn, you might walk out of here. My Dex never will. Please understand, Jordan, I don’t enjoy hurting children. That’s not the direction my interests lie. But for you… well. Wright is an artist. I can’t touch what he can do to you.” Her eyes drifted to the kitchen, thinking. “But I can try, if nothing else, to be a pale shade of the master.”

Jordan wanted to be quiet. Being quiet was good, pleased Master, didn’t hurt. “…can’t,” he muttered.

Wright paused, the sounds stopping along with the strikes.

He…he understood. What Wright was doing to him. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “You… um…” oh, speaking was hard. “… you don’t guard.”

A chuckle, from Master. He was in a better mood now. Wright watched Karen curiously.

Karen’s eyebrows raised again, but without the condescending coldness from before. Instead, she looked more interested than anything else. “That is correct. I do not guard. I am not Dex’s guardian, darling, I am his owner. I have a piece of paper, in my home - and copies in safety deposit boxes, in my office, and Wright has a copy himself, of course, just in case - stating that I am his owner. If I were to die in some… unfortunate accident… Dex would not walk free. He would come here, to live with your Master, when my belongings went to my listed next of kin. Do you understand? Your mercy - your willingness to step up for someone else - is admirable. But this is… more like throwing your hands in front of a whipped dog than protecting another person. Do you still use a gas-flame stove, Wright? I need to sterilize something.”

Dex was staring at Karen slightly wide-eyed - apparently surprised to hear the bit about the next of kin.

“Yes, I do,” Wright nodded.

Jordan had been dazed, overwhelmed by the information - it was a lot to understand. So his response was a little late. “Um… I would… I would do that for a dog,” he murmured. “Dex is a little more than a dog, right? I would do that for a dog.”

“Well, thanks for telling us. I’ll have to teach you some self-preservation,” Wright said, shaking his head a bit.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Karen tsked, clicking her tongue against her teeth, and moved gracefully to standing. “That is so disappointing to hear. Stand up, Jordan. I appreciate your forthright honesty tonight, but you can’t escape the discipline you’ve earned by interrupting your Master’s evening.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder, catching the remaining unhidden surprise - and more than a little worry for Jordan - on Dex’s face. A flicker of that cold smile again, and Dex shrank back, just a little, almost leaning back towards Wright without realizing it.

“We’ll be in the kitchen, darling,” Karen said to Wright. “I trust you with mine. I hope you’ll trust me with yours.”

“Of course,” Wright nodded. Jordan followed Karen into the kitchen, trembling most of the way. He glanced back at his Master, suddenly realizing how much safer he was with Wright, but Wright wasn’t looking.

No, he was more focused on Dex. He crouched in front of the kneeling man, cane perfectly balanced across his thighs. “That was pretty interesting, wasn’t it? What do you think, Dex? Are you a little more than a dog?”

Dex was breathing carefully, now, trying to balance the pain in his body with some measure of control over it. His eyes stayed focused on the cane in Wright’s hands, his own lifting to respond, then hesitating.

Finally, he took a deep breath and set his jaw into a hard line. Doesn’t matter, he signed, moving slowly - more from the pain in his back but he felt a spark of dim hope Wright would think he was being condescending. You hurt me. More than dog, yes. He paused one more time, deliberating. His eyes flickered to the kitchen doorway and then back to the cane. More than you. All you do is hurt. I can handle hurt.

Wright didn’t particularly care why Dex was signing slowly - it helped him, anyway. He tilted his head, thinking about the words. It might be the most Dex had ever said to him at one time. “I don’t know if hurting is all I do. Maybe Karen will let me borrow you a while, one of these days, and I’ll show you what I do. I mean, have you seen Jordan lately? You think he’s so good because I only hurt him?”

Dex’s eyes flared, and without thinking - because if he had, he would never have done it - he grabbed for the cane.

[razorblade180]

Lasting Embers pt16: Flowers of the sand

[Atlas military airship]

*tap tap tap tap tap tap tap......*

Illia:*Flying the ship*.............

*tap tap tap ta-*

Illia:Sienna if you don’t sit still right I swear.....

Sienna:*stops tapping her chain on the metal wall* S...sorry ma’am..... *ears fold down, puts her hands in her lap*

Illia:Sigh, thank you. *focuses on the radar*

*creeeeaaaaaakkkkk!*

Sienna:........*fidgeting in her seat*

Illia:Sienna!!!

Sienna:Can you blame me!!!? I’m currently sitting in airship hoping that somehow we’ll make it back home before I find my home up in flames by crazy cult leaders. Who have a head start on us by the way!

Illia:Relax, we’re flying the personal airship of the Schnee family. There’s no aircraft that can fly faster.

Sienna:Yet it’s still gonna take hours to get home. *slouching in her seat*

Illia:Hmph, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you believe your foster mom couldn’t handle a few lowlives.

Sienna:Just because she’s a maiden doesn’t make her invincible. Besides, odds are she won’t be the only one fighting...

Illia:Jael will be fine; I mean she’s 15 and pretty talented. I’ve seen her keep you on your toes and you’re six years older than her.

Sienna:*mumbles* excuse me for not having a semblance or anything. I’d be amazing too if I could do the things she does.

Illia:*pokes her side* Stop moping, you are amazing too. You are our youngest Sinister Shadow to be recruited after all; also I can I think I’m pretty and I don’t have a semblance.

Sienna:*small smile* Thank you ma’am. It’s just not all cult members are exactly normal. *gestures to her eyes and hands* and they’re in menagerie of places.

Illia:*watching the sunset* We should be there a little after dark and hopefully they’ll be in the desert at the end of dusk. Grimm tend to get more rambunctious at night; I don’t they can control them if this is just some splinter group.

Sienna:That’s a dangerous assumption....

Illia:I know...*biting her lip* we’ll just have to cross our fingers for the time being; and hope if someone encounters them that they know where to stab.

Sienna:Sigh.....*crossing her fingers* hell of a first mission. (Please let it end on a high note)

[Desert Oasis]

*Jael wearing a black kimono with a dark red sash that matches her long hair. An ice box on her left while a fishing pole and tackle box are on her right*

Jacquelyn:Awww I haven’t seen you wear that in awhile. You look lovely.

Jael:*tying her shoes* I got a feeling your opinion might be little biased.

Jacquelyn:Maybe a tiny bit; I guess you’re going into town?

Jael:I gotta return the fishing gear to Deloris. Not to mention *shakes a pill bottle with one capsule rattling inside* refill.....

Jacquelyn:That prescription seemed like it didn’t last as long. You sure you’re okay; maybe we should up the dosage or-

Jael:*standing up* Mom.....I’m fine, honest. I got a little more worked up this month more than usual is all.

Jacquelyn:.....*rubs her child’s slightly pale face, robbed of its usual peach color from the sun* Maybe I should tag along; you know how the grimm out here love digging tunnels.

Jael:Hmph, I think the white fangs and I have finally realized the pecking order around here. I’ll be back before it gets too late.

*walking out the door with the fishing pole and a bucket hat for her horns; ice and tackle box float behind her*

Jacquelyn:If you happen to see Blake then thank for the clothes she gave you.

Jael:I know, I know. Don’t wait up for me. *closes the door*

Jacquelyn:Pfft, like that’s gonna happen. *looks to her left* Oh geez....

*opens the door*

Jacquelyn:Aren’t you forgetting something!?

Jael:*turns around* Hmm? Oh yeah....

Jacquelyn:*Tossing her a katana and sheath similar to her father’s

*both items slow down mid air and float down to her side*

Jael:Thanks mom *bows slightly and continues walking*

Jacquelyn:*shaking her head* (Hopefully she won’t need it, but better safe then sorry)

[Desert, about an hour into the walk]

Jael:*watching the sunset completely* (Beautiful as usual. I wonder if sis is watching right now) *looks down to see the lively sea port as usual*

*festival lanterns and people filling the streets ahead*

Jael:Guess another festival is happening. Wish I could-

*a small sand mound circling around her*

Jael:Ah, I was wondering when you would show up. *grabs a giant catfish from the ice box*

*A dingo like grimm Jumps our the sand. One eye missing and battle scars on the bone platting around it’s face*

Jael:What brings you around here Alpha? Can’t be me; I’m in a good mood for once...

Alpha:*snarling and bearing its fangs*

Jael:Apparently you are not though. Don’t let it be the reason you don’t make it back to your pack though; sit...

Alpha:*sits like a proper dog, yet still snarls*

Jael:*tosses him the fish that promptly gets eaten* your table manners are about the same. *slowly reaches under his chin to rub it*

Alpha:*snarls calm down a little*

Jael:Good boy, now get out of here before someone finds another reason to avoid me.

Alpha: *points his nose back towards the desert, west of her house. Snarls intensify before diving back into the sand*

Jael:.......*looking in that direction* what has you riled up? Maybe I should-

*pill bottle floats in her face*

Jael:Sigh *grabs it* first things first, meds. *continues her walk*

[Faunus Pharmacy]

Jael:*walks in taking off her hat* Deloris I’m here with your stuff. You in here or do I have to talk with your parents? Please don’t let me have to speak to your parents. *walking down an isle* Dory, you in he-

*A young woman with tough pale blue skin and gills on her neck, face down on the counter sleeping. A life gaurd whistle next to her*

Jael:*Walks up shaking her head* And they say sharks don’t sleep.....Dory wake up, you have a customer. *shaking her*

Dory:Zzzzzzz

Jael:Unbelievable......you asked for this. *grabs the whistle.*

*a small purple orb forming near the mouth piece as she takes a deep breath*

Jael:(A one and a two and a-) *a hand covers her mouth immediately* ........

Dory:*raising her head to reveal sleepy gray eyes* Last time you did that I heard ringing for a week. Why night scream like a normal person?

Jael:Have enough energy to work two jobs. *smiles* good to see you as always.

Dory:Of course it is; you look nice by the way. Showing off your curves I see; I thought you’d be wearing- of course....

Jael:*opens the kimono slightly to reveal Blake’s old V1 clothes* What? They’re comfy and form fitting.

Dory:That top is telling a different story. Looks a size too small; you sure you’re part goat and not cow?

Jael:*red* I should hit you in your nose.

Dory:You want your hand that close to my teeth?

Jael:You mean your baby shark teeth that you still have? Yes

Dory:*snorts* Screw you dude. Hmmm? *spotting gossiping customers*

Jael:*turns around to see them flinch a little and promptly leave*........where they staring at me?

Dory:I mean.....yeah probably. Don’t let it get to you.

Jael:Whatever....*puts on her hat again*

Dory:There’s no way they know about, you know *makes horns with her fingers* I mean besides my parents and I, civilians aren’t allowed to know.

Jael:You’re right but when you live apart from everyone and a few higher up don’t like because they know, rumors run rapid. *clenching her sleeve*

Dory:At least you have the Belladonnas, Mr. Wukong and couple others watching over you.

Jael:I don’t care about being watched if no one is going to listen. What I want is....*takes a breath*......it doesn’t matter.

Dory:......So, any reason you’re here? Don’t get wrong it’s nice to see you, but it’s kinda late.

Jael:.....*points to the floating items around her* you’re joking right? Your fishing gear; also I need my pills.

Dory:Shut up I’m half asleep. You think you put the pole back on the wrack like gravity intended to before you started messing with it. *search for pills*

Jael:*putting it away* You’re just jealous that messing with gravity is cooler than breathing underwater.

Dory:Say that when you’re stranded at sea. I have looked through the F section three times now and can’t find your pills.

Jael:*whispering* Taurus......

Dory:Duh...sorry about that. *tosses her a new bottle* I’m surprised you’re already out; everything okay?

Jael:It will be *taking the final pill from the last bottle* now I can probably sprint home if I wanted.

Dory:Let’s not increase your heart rate for no reason okay?

Jael:Eh, if I’m gonna be a huntress then I gotta test me limits right. *walking away* Later, there’s fish for you in the ice box.

Dory:*opens it to see several huge bass* You’re worth your weight in gold Jael.

Jael:You calling me fat? I’m keeping your whistle by the way. *holding it*

Dory:You can keep the tackle box too; dad won’t notice one missing.

Jael:Cool *grabbing it* night Dory...

Dory:You should invite me fishing sometime. I’d love to see your home.

Jael:You’d eat all the fish off the line.

Dory:*watching her walk away* I’d be trying to eat something alright....

Jael:*blushing* Night Dory!!!! *leaves*

Dory:Hehe (she so wants me)

Jael:(I swear, talks about staying calm one minute and tries getting me worked up the next. Maybe she’s the one who needs meds)

*moon completely out*

Jael:Already this dark huh? Guess I should head back. But first.....*walks in the direction the Alpha pointed to* let’s see what got the old fur ball so grumpy.

•

*Three people roaming the desert in gray cloaks the one on the left a slim frame with gloves on his hands marked with an H. The right one marked with an C and has black veins on her arms; while the middle one was blessed with solid frame as black veins crawl up his arm and pulse around his eyes. The letter M on his hood*

H:How much longer are we gonna trudge in the sand!? My feet feel like they’re getting burned to the bone.

C:Stop your bitching and keeping walking. If it was easy to travel in the desert then it would be a poor hiding spot. Besides *snaps his fingers*

*several wild grimm pop out of the sand, including alpha*

M:It’s why we have scouts to take care of the heavy lifting. Find me the maiden... *eyes glow read*

Alpha:*remains still while the others reluctantly move slowly*

C:Did you not hear us you mutts? *eyes and hand glow* he said-

“Yeah they don’t take orders well...”

HCM:*look ahead*

Jael:*standing on a sand dune* They take orders from the Alpha and he only responds to strongest authority around. Well, or fish.

H:...I’m sorry, who the hell are you? *juggling two machetes*

Jael:Well from the looks of it*pats her life*

Alpha:*backing up to her side while the others remain*

Jael:Apparently I’m the strongest one here.

M:Is that so? *folding his arms* very amusing. A young woman in the wilderness alone that’s so strong a grimm dares not risk harming. I can only think of one person who can be that peculiar. Tell me.....are you the winter maiden?

*moonlight illuminating the vast terrain, shifting sands from a calm wind blows constantly*

Jael:.....In the flesh

M:If that’s the case, die........

[mitchsmarners]

ask me to stay. | chapter one | 6k.  

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

[or: the year is 1994, and Eddie Kaspbrak is in love.]

chapter warnings: minor depictions of violence, gay slurs. it’s the 90s man.

click title to read on AO3! 

The final bell rang through the class, and it took every inch of self control that Eddie Kaspbrak had not to toss the papers on his desk up in the air and cry out with joy. Richie Tozier, it seemed, had much less self control than Eddie did- and Eddie had Richie’s papers landing on his desk and Richie’s shouts in his ears.

“ Mr Tozier,” Ms Campbell, their junior AP English teacher, gave him a long withering look but Eddie could see her fighting off a smile. Richie seemed to be the only person in the world who’d mastered annoying and amusing somebody at the same time. “I can still give you detention for this afternoon.”

Richie gave her a small half smile. “But I’m pretty sure that you’re just as excited as I am to get out of here, so you probably won’t.”

Richie Tozier was all things that a good girls’ daddy would warn them about. His hair never laid flat on his head, and his clothes were always rumbled with wild patterns and mix-matched styles. He still forced his feet into the same pair of Dock Martens from freshman year, even after growing up them back at the beginning of the year, and it gave him a permanent skip in his step. He wore braces on his teeth even at sixteen years old, and the grudging white women down at the salon always seemed to have something bad to say about the Tozier family.

Eddie wasn’t like Richie. It sometimes felt like Eddie’s mother still dressed him, even if he technically chose out his own outfits every morning. Eddie Kaspbrak was similar to Richie in one way; he was also the kind of boy that men didn’t want around their daughters. No man wanted their daughter running around with a boy who dressed like a faggot. Eddie may not choose his clothes, but that didn’t make all of their claims untrue.

Ms Campbell shook her head, fully smiling now. “Get out of here, Richard.”

Richie let out another excited noise, slightly quieter this time, and grabbed hold of Eddie’s hand. Eddie barely had enough time to grab up his own things before Richie was dragging him from the building. He seemed to not have any regard for his own belongings that were scattered all over the classroom. Eddie had known Richie Tozier for pretty much as long as he could remember. A real sandbox love, and Richie had been this obnoxious ever since Eddie could remember. Richie had been a messy child, loud, and Eddie’s mother had forbid him at four years old to ever see the boy again. Being friends with Richie Tozier had been the first time Eddie had ever disobeyed his mother, and every time since had been Richie inspired.

Richie openly pranced into the hallway, slipping and high fiving some random person that Eddie barely recognized. He looked ridiculous in his too small boots, and jean overall matched with a Hawaiian print shirt that lost what little fashion cred it had back in the early 80s. Richie quickly returned to Eddie’s side, tossing an arm around his friend shoulder and pulling Eddie into his side. “Eds, my love, I have a feeling that this is going to be the best  summer of our lives. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Don’t call me that, dick,” Eddie shoved at Richie, but not enough that they actually broke contact or that Richie would pull away. Richie just grinned down at him. “You say that about last summer and then I spent the whole six weeks with a  cast on my wrist. Thanks to you, I might add. So, sorry if I maybe don’t take your word for it.”

“Eds…” Richie sighed, shaking his head. “I’m telling you. This is the summer of Losers.”

Richie dropped his arm from around Eddie’s shoulder and skipped towards the doors to freedom. Eddie slowed his steps and watch Richie move, a small smile growing on his cheeks.

→  → →

Beverly Marsh tucked her hands into the pockets of the much oversized jean jacket that she’d stolen from Richie, and watched Bill Denbrough upend his pack into the green garbage can outside the school. She was pretty sure at least three calculators and an actual full-sized novel fell out and into the garbage, but she didn’t make a peep.

“Don’t you think you’re going to need those things?” Ben Hanscom asked as he approached. Ben had always been a cute kid, Beverly remembered when they first met in the seventh grade. He had been, for a lack of better word, fat. He’d hit a good growth spurt the year before, and gone out for the football team with Mike Hanlon in sophomore year and it had slimmed him out a little bit. His sandy brown hair still flopped all over his face, and his cheeks still pushed out with chub, and Beverly wouldn’t have had any other way. She would never tell anybody, but she thought that out of all her friends Ben Hanscom was her favourite.

Bill Denbrough looked up and smiled. This past year, Bill had started letting his hair grow out and it now tickled at the back of his neck, and fell well into his eyes. Richie hadn’t yet managed to convince Bill to tuck it back into a ponytail, and Beverly often wondered how Bill even saw. He glanced down at the bag, seeming to think about it for a moment, then tossed the whole bag into the garbage behind his belongings.

Mike walked up to them, still wearing his red-and-white letterman jacket that Ben would never be seen wearing outside of game days, and grinned. Mike Hanlon was definitely the nicest jock that Beverly had ever met in her life. The Hanlons were on the of only black families in the very town of Derry, Maine and they lived out of the outskirts on a beautiful farm. Beverly practically lived out there when she could. Mike had been homeschooled through their elementary school days, and she’d only known him through reputation until then. He’d fit right in their little group of Losers immediately, and they’d all been inseparable since.

“That was overkill, Billy, don’t you think?” Beverly asked, pulling out the package of cigarettes from the pocket of the jacket and lighting one up. She supposed technically they were Richie’s, but she told herself that Richie would never have started smoking if it hadn’t been for her, so that made them partly hers. “You really didn’t need to throw out the whole bag, dude.”

“I don’t want to th-th-think about school for the next s-s-six weeks!” Bill announced, cheeks turning pink the way they always did when his stutter came through. It was remarkably better than it was when they were children- the speech therapy his parents had been taking him to Portland was working wonders- but it seemed to slip through just often enough that he couldn’t quite live down the nickname of “Mush Mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not going to need that stuff next year, man,” Ben said with a laugh. In the past few months, it had seemed that Ben Hanscom had been trying pretty hard to give himself a newer image. His sentences got shorter, he’s words got rougher, and his little black notebooks stopped appearing in his hands. Beverly figured that he was still writing poetry- or at least, she hoped he was- but Ben had effectively been shutting himself out the last few weeks.

“What are we talking about?” Richie’s voice carried over to them, wrapping an arm around Beverly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Junior year had done wonders to Richie’s height factor, springing him up almost a foot and prompting him to finally catch up to the other boys in their grade.

“Bill here thinks that because the school year is over that he can just throw out all of this stuff from this year- backpack included.” Ben informed Richie, reaching into his own bag and tossing the curly-haired boy a PEZ dispenser that had Daffy Duck from the Loonie Toons on it.

Richie caught it without concern, grinning a little sheepishly as Eddie Kaspbrak came up to them. He was a little wheezy from trying to keep up to Richie’s larger steps, but had that same mischievous grin on his face that he always did. “That’s nothing,” Eddie said with a cocky wiggle of his eyebrows. “ Richard here tossed all his shit up into he air once the bell rang like they were graduation caps, and then left them laying around the classroom.”

Beverly and Mike burst out laughing in the same moment, turning Richie’s slightly embarrassed grin to the genuine smile that always came out his friends laughing. Eddie looked at Richie’s smile, and the sound of Bev and Mike’s laughing sort of dimmed in his ears.

“Where the hell is Stanley?” Bill finally asked, looking around as the court yard quickly emptied around them. Most days the courtyard would be filled for hours after school let out, with clubs and teams all loitering around for meetings, but nobody wanted to stand around on school property once summer had officially started. “It’s not like him to be late.”

“He had a meeting with the counsellor after school, said it wouldn’t take long.” Richie said, popping out three of candies and popping them into his mouth.

“Probably discussing a way to get Stan valedictorian over you,” Mike said with a smirk. Richie clicked his tongue and winked at him.

Eddie’s gaze moved towards the loud rumbling of a certain Chevy truck that was moving down the road towards the school and his chest hitched. “Oh, shit. Incoming.”

Beverly groaned, quickly reaching down to tighten the laces on her combat boots. “Don’t they ever get tired of harassing innocents?”

“Nah,” Richie said, looking towards the truck with the few expression of true disgust that he owned. “People never get tired of the things that get them off. Why did you think I spend so much of my time picking fights with Eddie’s mom?”

“Oh my GOD!” Eddie squeaked, whacking Richie on the air. “You’re so fucking gross, Tozier, I swear-“

“Okay, we gotta move,” Mike said suddenly, reaching out and taking hold of Bill’s arm. Bill had already squared his shoulders, readying up for the fight as he always did at the sight of Henry Bowers and his gang. It was sometimes like there was a tiny part of Bill’s soul that burned for getting his ass handed to him by bullies twice his weight.

“What about Stan?” Eddie asked hesitantly, glancing back at the building. The last thing Eddie wanted was to be caught in any sort of altercation with the Bowers gang that he’d so carefully avoided since they’d graduated from Derry High the year before but he also wasn’t the type to leave a man behind.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie said, patting Beverly between her shoulder blade and ushering her towards Ben. “Patty boy and I have an understanding. You guys just get out of here.”

Eddie’s chest clenched slightly, and he noticed the same panic settled over Beverly’s face. “Babe, we can all go. We don’t even know how long Stan is going to be in there, we don’t know that they’ll even still be around when he’s done.”

“I don’t know,” Richie said in a voice sung with false confidence. “I’ve sort of missed them. It would nice to have a reunion with our old pals.”

“You’re on your own feeling that way,” Mike said with a nervous laugh. The truck was approaching rather quickly, and he pressed an arm around Beverly’s shoulder. She ushered her away, Ben right on their heels. The truck started to honk, and Eddie squeezed Richie’s wrist before taking off after the others. Richie turned slightly, making eye contact with Bill, who grinned back at him. Richie lowered his hand slightly, and Bill met it with a low five.

Patrick Hockstetter was jumping out the passenger door before the truck had even skidded to a stop. His black hair was longer and greasier than Richie remembered it being, and his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed since the last time they’d seen him. His boots were caked in mud, and it was definitely the same flannel that had once been oversized. He grinned at them wolfishly, actually going as far as to lick his lips. “Well, well,” Patrick said with a chirp. “If it isn’t my two favourite Losers. Where are the rest of your gang?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Richie asked, raising his brow and matching Patrick smirk for smirk. “Seems the end of days has finally come. Everybody else was raptured up to Gods playground and we’re the only poor bastards left on Earth.”

Bill snorted and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. As Patrick limbered closer, Richie realized that he was actually the same height now and he couldn’t control the pride that settled in his chest.

Henry and the other two minions that mattered a whole lot less all came strutting out of the truck and towards them. “Huh-huh-huh-huh-hey buh-buh-buh-Billy,” Henry Bowers exaggerated stuttered as he approached. It was weak and overused means of teasing, but it still made Bill clenched his fist and grind his jaw. “You guys all alone here?”

Richie exhaled hard, with an overdramatic roll of his eyes. “We’ve been over this. If you’re going to show up late, at least have the courtesy to be quiet.”

“Oh, Trashmouth Tozier is telling me to be quiet? That’s rich.” Henry stepped towards Richie, a good several inches shorter now. For the first time in his life, Richie Tozier felt he might have the upper hand in a situation. Until Patrick opened his mouth again.

“Hey, Tozier, where’s you’re little fairy friend?” Patrick slurred over to him. Richie’s posture stiffened and he heard Bill let in a small inhale behind him. “I wanted to give him a special hello if you catch my drift.”

Richie saw Patrick grabbing at his crotch from the corner of his eye, and forced a smile onto his face. “You know what I love about bigots.” Richie said, forcing laughter into his voice. He could practically feel Bill vibrating behind him. Richie turned quickly from Henry to Patrick, socking the bully directly in the nose. “Nothing.”

“OH SHIT!” Bill shouted behind Richie, grabbing at his friend’s arm and pulling. Richie stumbled slightly as they took off in the opposite direction of the school.

I picked the wrong day to wear shoes that don’t fit, Richie thought to himself. He could hear the angry shouts of Patrick and his buddies as they chased the two of them through the crowded Derry Park. Richie took a running jump over the park bench, and laughed breathlessly when he heard the distinct thud of Belch Huggins running into it.

Bill took a sharp left and slid underneath the singing out legs of a child on the swing, and nearly fell when he heard Vic Criss shout when the girls feet landed directly in his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Hockstetter mad dive forward and tackle Richie into the sandbox. Wincing, Bill turned away as Patrick began to rub Richie’s face into the sand.

“You ever going to learn to watch that fucking trashmouth of yours?” Patrick growled at him, pressing his face angrily against the dirt. Richie flailed, but he knew it was no use. He and Patrick may be nearing each other in height these days, but Patrick had always had superiority upper body strength. Or really, all types of strength except possibility intelligential but given his recent actions- maybe even there. “Always been a problem for you, hasn’t it, Tozier? Never, never learn.”

Richie could dimly hear how Henry and the rest of the goons were cheering Patrick on, but he was pretty sure he was getting sand in his eyes at the moment so he couldn’t make out any words. Patrick’s words, he could still hear nearly clear as day. “Are you really this stupid? Is that what this is? Or is it because I made fun of your fairy friend there? You protective of little Kaspbrak?” Richie thrashed all the harder, even though he knew that it was only going to make things worse for him in the end. “Oh, ho ho! Did I hit a nerve, Tozier? Should I go find him, maybe? Do you think that you could save him from me?”

Richie managed to push himself onto his back, fighting at Patrick’s chest and trying to blink through the sand that had settled all of his over face. Patrick was grinning down at him and there was something hard that was not a knee pressing into Richie’s side, but he couldn’t think about that right now. It seemed like Henry was gone- bad news for Billy – but Richie had to focus on Patrick right now. He’d take the most brutal beating Patrick Hockstetter had in him if it meant that he’d leave Eddie alone.

Patrick was practically drooling, so if that was any sign to what Richie was in for then this was going to be a long couple minutes. Richie spit out a mouthful of playground- possibly peed in, oh god, was there pee in this? – at Patrick and scowled up at him. “Why don’t fucking pick on somebody your own size, Hockstetter? Afraid to loose?”

“Last I saw, Tozier.” Patrick’s breath smelled like the worst kind of mixture of marijuana and the Orangesicile smoothie down at the Prince’s on main. Richie’s stomach churned, and he had to fight not to turn his face away. “We are the same size.”

Richie’s last thought before Patrick’s fist came falling towards his face was- predictably- fuck. He didn’t know how long it went on, could have only been a few minutes but it easily could have been hours. But the next thing he knew, Patrick was pulling back and kicking at Richie’s side. Richie groaned and curled into himself.

“Be seeing you, Tozier.”

Richie laid there for a short moment before Bill seemed to appear from thin air and help him up to his feet. “You’re a piece of shit friend, you know that, right?” Richie groaned, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at the blood underneath his nose. “Just let ‘em beat me.”

He wasn’t serious, and Bill’s laugh sounded that he knew it. “Hey. N-not all of us are guh-g-gonna go Huh-huh-Hulk to defend suh-suh-somebody who isn’t even h-h-here.” Bill said, letting Richie move to stand on his own. “P-p-pick your b-b-battles, Rich.”

“I pick plenty of battles,” Richie shot back, winking at Bill even thought it definitely hurt his rapidly bruising eye. Bill rolled his eyes.

“Pick fewer battles, Richie.”

→  → →

Eddie rubbed his hands together, and looked up out the window of the Denbrough’s kitchen. Eddie had always thought it was weird how Bill’s kitchen faced out onto the street, growing up neither his, Richie nor Stan’s had been placed that way, but he was thankful for it right now. Every year on the last day of school, starting way back in the second grade, they had always had a sleepover at Denbrough’s house to celebrate the start of summer. Throughout the years, the sleepover had gotten larger, then smaller again last year when Bev’s aunt had deemed it inappropriate for her to be sleeping over with so many boys.

Eddie was fretting, and he knew it. Bill and Richie weren’t back yet, and it had caused a deep anxiety to settle itself in his gut. It had been nearly a year since Eddie Kaspbrak had needed to use his inhaler, and it had been three years since he- with the help of Richie’s overly enthusiastic support – had started weening himself off it. At thirteen, Mr Keene down at the pharmacy had told him that all of his medication were actually falsehoods brought up by his mother. Misted water and sugar pills, all of them. It had broken Eddie, for a long time. He was sure that he’d never be the same person again, that he would never trust the same way again. He was better now, stronger he believed, but if Richie and Bill didn’t show up soon- Eddie might regret not bringing his inhaler.

"Why don’t you wake outside, Eddie?” Georgie Denbrough asked from he kitchen table where he seemed to be doing some sort of homework despite school being over for the term. “It’s the perfect kind of summer night you love. The kind where you have to wear a sweater.”

Eddie smiled softly. Bill had been complaining for the last few months that Georgie had become a pain in the ass, going through some sort of angst-y teenager phase that was annoying to Bill and his parents alike, but Eddie had never seen that sort of behaviour from him. Anytime Eddie was around, Georgie seemed like the same sweet child to Eddie.

Eddie picked up his hoodie from the couch on his way outside, nodding at Stan and Ben who were sitting on the couch. He walked out the front door and hummed to himself as the soft summer wind hit his face. There was a chill to it, but Eddie sort of like the sting it brought to his skin.

He walked across the Denbrough’s lawn, that was sort of getting a little overgrown and no doubt Bill would be roped into mowing in within the next few days. He looked up to the big maple tree on the front of the lawn, and grinned to himself. A good hundred times a year, Eddie could have to yell at Richie to get out of it before he’d hurt himself. Last summer, he’d finally let Richie convinced him to go tree climbing with him- and it hadn’t been a normal sized maple in their friend’s front yard.

“I made soup.” Bev and Mike both startled and looked down at Eddie.

“What did you make soup for?” Beverly asked, still giggling slightly and Eddie shook his head. Richie and Beverly had been together so long that Eddie could barely remember that days before their relationship. Dim memories of believing that Bev and Ben were going to be together, even dimer ones of the days when Bev and Bill were childhood sweethearts. Yet, sometimes Eddie believed that he knew Richie better than Beverly ever even tried. But maybe that was just wishfully thinking.

So Eddie just shrugged, and contemplated it for only a second before scaling up the tree himself. He wiggled himself in between Mike and the trunk, looking down at the ground a little nervously.

“It’s not that high,” Mike said with a small smile. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie cast him a dark look, frowning deeply. “Last time somebody said that to me, I broke my fucking arm.”

“I…” Mike cleared his throat then nodded. “Okay, yeah. That definitely happened.”

“Why are you guys in the tree?” Stan called up to them, Ben standing beside him. Stan had shown up at the Denbrough’s house not long after the rest of the Losers had gotten there. He’d been quiet since he’d gotten there, more so than usually, and kept worrying his bottom lip. He hadn’t given up any sort of information about his meeting with the guidance counsellor, and Stanley Uris wasn’t the kind of person you pushed. (Unless you were Richie Tozier, who pushed everybody.)

“We’re waiting for Bill and Richie,” Eddie and Beverly answered in unison. They quickly pointed at each other and shouted “JINX!” and then burst out laughing. Mike smiled and looked back out to the street, tuning out Eddie and Bev’s continue attempt at jinx through their giggles. He saw Bill and Richie making their ways down the street before anybody else, and Richie wasted no time coming forward and slapping Stan on the shoulder.

The boy looked a little worse for wear, dirt and blood streaked on his cheeks, eye already seeming to be bruising. But he was smiling none the less, a regular old Tozier grin, and he looked up at his friends in the tree. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!”

Beverly giggled but Eddie jumped out the tree as though he had some sort of Spider Man powers and hadn’t just been fretting about the height. Mike crinkled his brow, as Beverly jumped down from his other side.

Eddie touched the cuts on Richie’s cheeks and his lips tugged down in a worried frown. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked in harsh words that didn’t match the concerned tone of voice.

“Patrick beat him up in the sandbox.” Bill came practically skipping up onto the lawn. “It was like being seven again, which i-i-isn’t something I thought I n-n-n-needed but I really enjoyed.”

Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “The only thing you enjoyed, Denbrough, was chatting up that weird newspaper girl in the park.”

“That’s n-n-not true,” Bill challenged, but the flushing of his cheeks implied that it was at least a little bit true. “I also enjoyed you p-p-p-punching P-P-Patrick.”

Richie grinned and nodded but Eddie let out a horrified squeak. “You punched Patrick? Have you lost your absolute goddamn mind, Richard? What could be possibly say that would make you do something so stupid?”

Richie and Bill exchanged a quick look between the two of them, almost a silent conversation, before Richie was reaching out and ruffling up Eddie’s meticulously styled hair. “Awe, don’t you worry about it, Eds. Just trust that he deserved it.”

“Of course he deserves it,” Eddie snapped but he was starting to smile. “Doesn’t mean you should be stupid enough to actually do it. Now, come on. Let’s get those scratches cleaned before you get an infection and they have to cut your dumbass head off.”

Richie wrapped an arm around Beverly and grinned as Eddie pulled him towards the house by his hand. “Did you at least make soup? You know I love soup after getting my ass handed to me.”

→  → →

Richie was rested on the Denbroughs kitchen counter, as Eddie rummaged through the cupboards and complained about how ill stalked it was. Mike chuckled into his bowl of soup, knowing that all Richie really needed was a some soap and hot water. Toss the lanky boy into the shower, and he’d be good as new.

He turned to where Ben and Beverly were both sitting, talking quietly to each other and seemingly blind to Eddie’s frantics not three feet away from them. They all snapped to attention as Bill and Stan came into the room. They both seemed a little knocked off kilter and Mike felt concern settle into his gut at the sight of them.

He didn’t seem to be the only one, Richie shifting to sit up straighter on counter. “What happened, dudes?”

“Somebody is m-m-m-moving into the old Gr-gr-Gray house.” Bill stumbled through his words. “A f-f-family, I guess. There was a g-g-girl…”

Richie waggled his eyebrows and grinned deeply. “A girl, yeah? Is she hot?”

Beverly grabbed one of the bread rolls off the dining room table and wiped at Richie, nailing right in the head, at the same time that Eddie whipped him with the dish cloth in his heads. Richie yelped, rubbing at his arm and pouting. “DAMN! Forgive a man for asking a damn question.”

“You’re not a man,” Stan told him dryly. “You’re an extremely tall, skinny infant that was somehow cursed with the ability to speak.”

Richie blew him a kiss, and Stan rolled his eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Stan moved over to reached past Eddie to the rubbing alcohol that was on a shelf just out of Eddie’s tiptoe’d reach. Eddie tried to force himself to sound grateful as he accepted it.

He moved back to Richie and took his chin between his hands. Looking the marks over. It wasn’t as bad as it had looked outside, a singular black eye and some scraping on the side of his cheek. Richie had winced when he’d jumped onto the counter, which likely meant his ribs were bruised but Eddie saw no point in fussing with them just now. Richie had been walking fine, so they weren’t broken.

He still couldn’t help but frown as he dabbed Richie’s cuts with the rubbing alcohol. Richie let out a louder cry than was necessary, and Eddie gave him an unimpressed look. “Aren’t you getting a little old to be running around getting into fights?”

“Aren’t they a little old to still be beating up kids?” Richie challenged with a smirk that quickly turned into a wince as Eddie dabbed at his slit lip.

“Your lip is all busted,” Eddie said, as though pointing out that Richie’s lips were injured would somehow make it okay that Eddie was paying attention to them. Richie’s hand came up, long fingers wrapping around Eddie’s tiny wrist, and he gently guided Eddie’s touch away.

Eddie finally wrenched his eyes away from Richie’s lips and met his best friend’s gaze. There was a softness there that he rarely got to see, not even the smallest hint of teasing or joking there. It was just Richie, just Richie looking at him and Eddie looking back. For a single moment, it was just Richie and Eddie alone in the world. Nothing to bother them, nothing to live up to.

Then Bill’s voice broke through and shattered the moment, and Eddie tried not to be annoyed. As soon as the moment was over, Eddie had to question if there had even been a moment at all. “Did you m-m-manage to convinced your aunt to let you stay, Bev?” Bill asked, no doubt knowing what the answer would be. Almost immediately after Beverly’s fifteenth birthday, sleepover with the boys permission had been yanked. Eddie wasn’t sure what her aunt been trying to stop from occurring, as Beverly already been dating Richie for years. It certainly wasn’t stopping her from having sex, if Richie’s jokes were anything to go by, and Eddie knew from personal experience that if Richie wanted into somebody’s house… he got in.

“Nah,” Beverly responded with an eye roll. “Got her to let up and extend my curfew. 12:30. Which means if I’m not home by 1, I’m dead meat.”

“I’ll walk you home, babe.” Richie said, popping his lips. He dropped his hand, letting Eddie’s wrist fall from his grip and down to Eddie’s side. His skin was cold where Richie’s touch had just been and it felt him feeling unsettled.

Stan scoffed from where he was leaning against the counter at Richie’s side. “Please, Tozier. We’d have to be way more concerned about you out in the night than Bev.”

Richie pouted for a moment before breaking into a large grin. “Okay, then Eddie and I will both walk Bev, and my Eds will make sure we both make it back here to Billy’s safe and sound.”

“Don’t call me Eds!” Eddie snapped, ignoring just all too many things lately. “And who the fuck said I agreed to that? Why would I leave a perfectly comfortable house to go baby-sit your ass in the middle of the night?”

“Because you love me?” Richie suggested with a toothy grin. Eddie pursed his lips together to keep back his smile. There had never really been any doubt that Eddie was going to walk with Richie and Bev, and he tried to ignore the little thrill it gave them that Richie was inviting him along when he easily could have been using it as an excuse to be alone with his girlfriend. He cursed himself for being so weak.

“Oh, Eddie, don’t bother pretending.” Stan said, waggling his eyes at Eddie from Richie’s other side. “We know you’re going to do it.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at his friend and tried to ignore how he was flushing right down the back of his neck. Richie squeezed his eyes shut and leaned closer so that Eddie could resume wiping at his face.

It didn’t help Eddie’s whole blushing issue.

→  → →

The dark streets were a comfort to Richie. He’d always preferred night over day, it made him free in a way that he could never been when the sun brought light down on all of his actions. He could more himself at night. He could put down his walls, remove his false face and be just a little bit more true.

Not very many got to see how Richie got under the darkness of Derry’s street. Derry felt endlessly safer at night, when the peering and judgment eyes of his snobby neighbours had gone to bed. Sure, he had to worry about Henry and his goons but he had to worry about them just as much in the light of the day so it couldn’t be a bother to him.

He looped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder as he guided him down and away from Beverly’s house. It wasn’t the best part of town to be hanging around in, he knew that, and it was far from where you wanted to get yourself stranded or cornered. And even so…

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Richie said, quieter than he would usually speak. It just felt a little wrong to be breaking the soft stillness of the night. He felt Eddie stiffen for a moment, before he learned into Richie’s touch. “Let’s go to the Quarry.”

“I am not swimming in the middle of night!” Eddie squawked, a little predictably. Richie chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder to keep him from pulling away when he felt his friend start to squirm. ”Don’t laugh at me, jackass! Even if it’s kind of warm out, you can still get pneumonia! And die! Do you want to die?”

Richie pursed his lips, shaking his head a little bit. “Can’t say I want to die right at this moment. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe.” He could feel Eddie’s startled and concerned expression pouring into them and Richie wanted to shut this possible emotional moment down before it started. “I didn’t mean swimming, Eds. Let’s just go and... sit at the end of the world for a while.”

Richie glanced down at Eddie, finally, and found his best friend looking back up at him with an expression that Richie couldn’t read. Eddie seemed to realize that Richie was trying to get inside his head, because he wiped the look from his face and replaced it with a soft smile. “That’s pretty profound, Richard. What are you thinking?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What was Richie thinking? God, wouldn’t it be so much easier if he knew. As it was, Richie was more confused now than when they first introduced Algebra into his life. Sighing, he kept his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and guided him to walk towards the Quarry in the opposite direction of Bill’s house. Eddie slipped away from Richie’s hold, and they walked side-by-side, not touching, the rest of the way. Richie supposed that it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was never awkward with Eddie, always comfortable.

They hiked up the cliff and moved to sit with their legs dangling over the edge. Richie tilted his head back to stare up at the stars- always more visible out here than anywhere within town. He wanted to put his arm back around Eddie, missing the warm weight under him. He’d learned better, though, in the past few years. He’d stopped chasing Eddie after the boy pulled away, knowing it often only lead to a fight. There was only a few times that Eddie would pull back but want back under Richie’s touch- and he always made it clear.

Like now, when he pressed up against Richie’s side when they were settled and seated. Richie pressed his lips together sharply to hold back his smile, and let his arm drop around Eddie’s shoulders once more. “I’m thinking of breaking up with Beverly,” Richie blurted out in a typical-Tozier fashion. Eddie blinked at him, tilting his head back.

“What? Why?” Eddie didn’t sound as though he felt one way or another about it. Or maybe he did, and he wasn’t letting it show. Didn’t make Richie feel any better, and it sure as hell didn’t give him an answer to Eddie’s question.

“Why?” Richie asked with a bit of a nervous chuckle. Then he hummed, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Why… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I guess? I’ve been with Beverly so long, and I never really… planned on it at all. We just kissed at that party, and suddenly- you know? Bev and Rich. Rich and Bev. And it’s been… years, yeah? And I just… I don’t know if I see myself being with Beverly for the rest of my life.”

Eddie was looking at Richie very seriously, a little softly, and Richie could get lost his Eddie’s eyes in this moment. And he felt a little guilty about it, and he had to look away. “Like, I love her. Obviously. But I don’t know if I’m… actually in love with her. You know? Sometimes it just feels wrong.”

Eddie swallowed loudly enough that Richie could hear him. For a long moment, it was just the two of them breathing. So close together that they shared air, and Richie’s heart was thrumming with anxiety. “You need to do whatever makes you happy, Rich.”

Rich just hummed, and dropped his head down on top of Eddie’s and stared back out to the endless water.

[thej13579]

Rachel: Sora's Gal-Pal (KH/TPTAF TG/TF)

Wanting to save Sora, Riku dives into the world he's trapped in only to succumb to the same fate.

Here's the second part of my little trilogy. Came out a little sooner than I expected, but you can surprise yourself sometimes.

If you have any constructive criticism and feedback, please comment down below.

A full year.

It’s been a full year since Sora disappeared after the final battle with Xehanort. It apparently had something to do with the Power of Waking. Riku didn’t exactly know the full extent of what it was, but he knew that he had to reunite Sora with his friends.

Luckily, after all this time, they finally found him. Kairi can apparently sense Sora’s heart in some forbidden world. No one knows why he’s still in this world after all this time, but Riku and Kairi knew that the reason can’t be good.

Riku volunteered to go. He was the best possible candidate aside from Kairi herself to retrieve Sora.

And so with the power of the Keyblade, Riku accessed the forbidden world and dived into it, ready for whatever monsters awaited him.

It wasn’t long before Riku ended up in New Orleans. He could see people walking down the sidewalks and cars driving through the streets. 

“Why, hello there, handsome. What’s your name?”

Riku’s eyes turned to see a teenage girl about his age running up towards him. He had to admit that she’s fairly attractive from her lovely face full of makeup to the bright pink flapper dress accentuating her brunette hair.

“Um… My name's Riku and your name is…”

“Sora. Sora La Bouff.”

It was then Riku looked into Sora’s eyes. They were the exact same eyes. He could see the same friendly aura in his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This pink-clad girl right in front of him is Sora? Riku wondered what could’ve happened to him to make him this way. Who could’ve done this?

“Sora? Is that you?”

“Yep,” Sora giggled. “It’s me alright.”

Before Riku could say anything else, he could see a similarly dressed blonde-haired woman run up to the two. 

“Hey, Sora, I… who’s this guy?”

“This is Riku,” Sora pointed to the guy beside her. “He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he?”

Charlotte turned to the silver haired boy before her and began analyzing him. Lovely silver hair, fairly muscular with a pretty boy look to him.

She knew she and Sora had a lot of work to do and a lot of changes to make.

“I see…” Charlotte said. “Do you want to come over to our place? We have plenty of food.”

Riku briefly thought about Charlotte’s offer. On the one hand, there was something about this place that seemed off. It seemed a bit more empty than a city like New Orleans should be. And how did Sora become this bubbly teenage girl? She looked so different and yet he could sense his heart deep within this girlish body. There’s obviously something sinister afoot. On the other hand, if he could get Sora away from Charlotte and talked to her in private, there’s a chance that he could get his friend back. He would look less like a weirdo trying to get his friend to snap back to his normal self at Charlotte’s place than if he did this in public.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Sora grabbed Riku’s hand and began dragging over to her place with Charlotte not too far behind the two.

Before Riku knew it, he was at the La Bouff estate with the two girls. They quickly took Riku up to Sora’s room.

“Lottie and I had to do a bit of girl talk for a bit,” Sora said. “I’ll see you in a bit. Make yourself at home for a bit in my bedroom while I’m gone.”

Sora quickly left her room with Charlotte in tow, leaving Riku able to analyze Sora’s bedroom. A large pink canopy bed, princess dolls and plushies filled Sora’s shelves alongside books of fairy tales and a wardrobe filled with princess dresses. Riku sat down on the canopy bed, wondering how Sora went from a brave Keyblade Master to a princess obsessed girly girl. Maybe Charlotte had something to do with it?

“I’m back!” 

Riku turned his head to Sora mincing into the room. She sat down right next to the silver-haired boy, scooting a bit too closely to him for comfort.

“I’m so glad that you decided to come over,” Sora squealed. “I know we’re going to become great friends.”

“Thanks,” Riku said. “Now, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, before we do, how about some chocolates?” Sora quickly handed Riku a package of chocolates. She took one a piece and began waving it in front of Riku’s face. “I bet you’ll find them quite tasty.”

“Thanks, but-”

Before Riku could finish, Sora stuffed the piece of chocolate right into his mouth. He wanted to spit it out as he had the feeling that he couldn’t trust anything that Sora and Charlotte were offering. But Riku couldn’t bring himself to spit the candy out, he found it too tasty.

“Want some more?”

Riku nodded and began eating more chocolates. His instincts tell him not to eat any more, but he could feel himself getting addicted to the chocolates. Before he knew it, the package was completely empty. 

“These are actually pretty good,” Riku said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Sora giggled. “They always have that special taste that makes them so addictive and they can bring out the little lady in you.”

“Little L-lady?”

Before Riku could question Sora further, he could feel his body tingling. He looked down to see the muscles in his body and arms slowly shrinking before his eyes. Shock overcame him as the chocolates left his body with a slim and feminine figure.

“W-what have you done to me?”

“I’m helping you become a woman,” Sora smirked. “There’s obviously a beautiful young lady deep within you and Lottie and I are bringing it out.”

“I don’t want to become a woman!” Riku yelled. This must have been how Sora got into this situation. He has to do something, anything, before this feminizing effect fully overtakes him.

“You say no, but your heart says yes. I feel it.”

“No! That’s not true!”

“But it is. You’re meant to be a woman and we’re just getting started with your transition.”

It was then Riku noticed that his body shrunk by a fair few inches. When they first met, he towered over Sora and now he was about the same height as her. What made the feminization worse was how his clothes became loose and ill-fitting on him. Riku’s shirt looked several sizes too big on him and he can barely keep his pants from falling down.

“I know those clothes don’t fit you anymore, but sis is working on finding the perfect outfit for you, it’ll be okay.”

“Sorraaa!”

“And speak of the devil.”

Sora opened the bedroom door, allowing Charlotte to walk in, carrying a bundle of blue fabric.

“I got the clothes and…” Charlotte gasped at Riku’s current state. “Oh my, you really need a wardrobe change.”

“No… no!” A swelling sensation moved to Riku’s chest. He could feel two fleshy balloons pushing out from his chest. Of course, he knew what was going on there. He’s developing breasts… his breasts. They were there and they were very real.

“I’m out of here.”

Riku ran towards Sora’s bedroom door as fast as he could. His run was hampered by him holding up his pants which were several sizes too large for him with one hand while also trying to run in his ill-fitting shoes. He tried to ignore how his new B-cup breasts bounced up and down with each movement. Before he could grab the doorknob with his free hand, he felt a tight grab on his shoulder.

“Oh no, you don’t, young lady.”

Riku found himself quickly pushed back onto Sora’s bed by Charlotte. He quickly got up but he found the path to the bedroom door blocked by Sora and Charlotte.

“Now then,” Charlotte grinned. “Let’s get you out of those ugly and ill-fitting clothes and into something more fitting for a young lady like you.”

Within seconds, Riku’s clothes were thrown off to the side while Charlotte and Sora got him dressed in clothes that were more fitting. He tried to resist being jerked and jolted around by the two women, but his new feminine body was very much lacking in any sort of physical strength.

When they were done, Riku was able to look over himself. He was no longer wearing his regular clothes but a sky blue flapper dress with matching two-inch heels, a feather boa and a cloche hat to complete the ensemble. Sora and Charlotte at least had the decency to latch on a bra and matching panties. If there was one good thing about his new attire is that his new bra kept his breasts supported.

“I look so…” Riku clutched his throat. His Adam’s apple was nowhere to be found. His throat was completely flat. “M-my voice.”

“I know,” Sora giggled. “Not as high-pitched as mine or Lottie’s, but fairly appropriate for a girl like you, right?”

‘Yeah, I guess,” Riku said. He was already feminized from head to toe with the exception of one area. He knew which one it is and he’s not looking forward to the change in the slightest.

“Hmm…” Sora examined Riku. “She looks great, but there’s one thing missing.”

“What’s that, Sora?” Lottie asked.

“Makeup!” 

Sora took out a big powder puff and slammed it on Riku’s face, encasing the feminized Keyblade wielder’s face in a fine, white powder.

Riku began coughing as he waved the powder away. When the powder completely faded away, Riku got a good look at his reflection and what he saw, after everything else that happened, didn’t shock him that much.

His face was full of makeup. White eyeshadow dons his eyes with mascara and eyeliner accentuating them. His cheeks were made extra rosy thanks to some blush and pale pink lipstick covered his lips along with lip gloss making them look extra kissible. He had to admit that he didn’t look like the most masculine individual before this, but now it’s all but impossible for anyone to see him as a boy. Instead, anyone who sees him will think he’s a feminine, alluring young woman.

“Don’t you look fabulous?” 

Riku turned towards Sora and it was then he could feel the last change coming. His dick slowly began to recede into his body as a vagina began to form in its place. His manhood is now completely gone, now with a fresh new womanhood to take its place as some people would put it. That last change didn’t go unnoticed.

“Now, you’re quite the young lady.”

Riku knew there was no denying it. Sora was right. He was now completely a woman in body. But he’s still the same Riku inside. Maybe if he can find a way to get away from them, he can get back to the others with his mind intact. Tell them what happened to him and Sora. Get Kairi, Mickey, Aqua, Ven and Terra to help him free Sora and set him and Riku back to normal.

“Hmm…” Sora examined Riku. “You’re all dolled up with a woman’s body and the perfect dress to boot and yet… you don’t seem happy.”

“Maybe Rachel needs a little something to bring out her feminine side?” Charlotte suggested.

“No!” This place may have taken Riku’s body, but it surely hasn't taken his mind and he refuses to go by that name.

“I know,” Sora beamed. “She needs a man.

“I don’t want a man!”

“Oh, yes you do,” Sora giggled. “We both know you want a man. You want to be held in his strong arms as you stared into his dreamy eyes. You want him to kiss you and make you feel girlish. I bet when you finally get married to the man of your dreams and you get to your honeymoon, he’ll really make you feel like a woman.”

Riku could feel his mind being invaded by images of men. Lying side-by-side in the sand, their tanned, muscular bodies oiled and glistening in the tropical sun, their naked bottoms were in perfect alignment...

“That’s not true!”

“We both know it’s true. Just admit it.”

“No!”

“Maybe you girls should go out and find a man?” Charlotte suggested. “I bet being with the man of her dreams would make a woman out of Rachel.”

“That’s a great idea, Lottie,” Sora pulled her sister into a hug. “I’m sure I’ll find Rachel a boy who would be good to her before sunset.”

Sora suddenly grabbed Riku’s arm and began dragging him out of the room.

“Bye, Lottie!”

“Bye, Sora,” Charlotte waved. “See you girls tonight.”

Riku tried to break his arm free of Sora’s grip, but the latter was too strong for him. He was forced down the street as wolf-whistles echoed in his ear. Riku had a strong feeling in his gut that those whistles weren’t meant for Sora.

As Sora stopped to wait for the crossing sign to turn green, Riku looked around the area, desperate for an avenue to escape. He quickly stopped upon a teenage boy just a few feet from him. He was handsome, muscular, and dwarfed Riku in physical size. He wouldn't have looked all that special to Riku normally, but with his new body and attire, he felt much more dainty and delicate in comparison to the teen standing not too far from him.

“That’s Bruce,” Sora said. “I heard he’s one of the hottest teens in New Orleans and I think he’s taken an interest in you.”

The two teens continue to stare at each other. Riku’s heart began to race as he looked deep into Bruce’s eyes. He looked so attractive.

Bruce began to walk towards the two. Riku continued to look around the area. He knew his heels would make it rather difficult for him to perform an escape and Sora’s presence wouldn’t help matters. After all, she looked like she can run in heels, Riku can’t. But he knew he had to try, before it’s too late.

“He’s approaching you,” Sora whispered to Riku. “Talk to him.”

“I can’t,” Riku whispered back.

“Oh, you can,” Sora said. “You just need a little push.”

It was then Riku found himself pushed towards Bruce. The heels made him struggle to keep his balance, causing him to stumble further towards Sora’s intended target. But before he found himself flat on his face, Riku was catched by Bruce.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked with concern. His voice sounded deep and alluring. Fairly seductive to the feminized warrior.

“Yes,” Riku answered. After all the stress he went through the past few hours, he felt a sense of safety in Bruce’s arms. He felt like the boy holding him could protect him from all of the dangers in the world, even from the Heartless themselves.

Bruce began to lean towards Riku, his lips slowly extended towards his. Riku knew what he was going to do. The minute Bruce’s lips touched his, pulling him into a kiss something in Riku broke.

Riku can feel all the feminine feelings flowing through his brain and consuming whatever old thoughts he had left. All of his memories fighting heartless and villains side by side with his friends were completely gone. He… no she was Rachel now. A feminine young woman who wanted to get married and settle down with a nice young man. She wanted a man like Bruce. She needed to be with Bruce, and so she returned the kiss.

Meanwhile, Sora was giggling at her best friend. A sense of pride went through her body as she saw Rachel making out with one of the hottest boys in New Orleans.

“You go, girl.”

--

“And so I was with my big sister and we met up with Tia and Naveen. We had beignets that Tia made at her restaurant and it was the best time. You should totally come with us sometime. Their food is so good.”

“Maybe I should,” Rachel smiled. She stared at her outfit. A baby blue flapper dress. Sora had the exact same outfit except with a bright pink shade to it.

“Hey, Rachel. Hey, Sora.”

The two ladies turned to see Bruce walking towards them. Rachel could feel her heart racing as she stared at his blue eyes.

“Hi, Bruce!” Rachel minced up to Bruce and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. It’s been two weeks since Rachel began dating Bruce and the relationship has been growing strong. She can remember their date last night simply watching the stars from the park bench. It was a fairly simple date but it was good nonetheless.

“How about we go out to my family party tomorrow? I had plenty of cousins and I bet they’ll love to see you.”

“Sure!”

Rachel was familiar with Bruce’s parents, but she wasn’t so familiar with the rest of his family. Maybe this could be fun? There might be a few girl cousins that she could bond with. She could always use some more friends.

“Wonderful. Be at my house at 6 tomorrow, Rachel.”

Bruce proceeded to turn the corner at the end of the crossing, leaving Rachel and Sora on their original paths.

“I told you he’s the one for you.”

“Yeah,” Rachel admitted. “Thank you for helping me get together with Bruce.”

“You’re welcome,” Sora giggled. “Maybe tomorrow afternoon we can go to that new salon together so we can get all dolled up for our events. I heard the employees there can make anyone feel like a princess.”

“I suppose,” Rachel sighed. She wished that Sora would give up her dream of becoming a princess and just settle for one of her admirers for which the latter has no shortage of. Rachel knew three of them who could make great boyfriends to Sora in their own right.

“Great! Let’s go and set up our appointments.”

Sora and Rachel continued to mince down the sidewalk, their skirts bouncing off of each other in a feminine dance. All of a sudden, they heard a cry.

“Sora! Riku!”

The two girls turned to see another girl running towards them. She seemed about their age and her outfit wasn’t like anything in New Orleans. Her hair was about shoulder-length and she was wearing a hooded pink-and-black dress, with two small black cat ears. There are black ruffles on one side of her skirt and plaid on the other. Thick belted black boots adorned her feet and she had thin white bracelets on her left wrist and a thick wristband on her right wrist.

Neither of the two feminized Keyblade masters could recognize her at first, but as she got closer, a name struck both of them. A name that was all but forgotten by the two of them.

“Kairi?”

[gimmesumsuga]

BTS Reaction - their pregnant s/o is insecure

Warnings: Taehyung’s gets a little smutty, but other than that this is pure fluff! 

... Also, these are really fucking long.  Apologies.  

Seokjin

“Shove over.”  You give a gentle push to Jin’s shoulder, frowning at the way he’s leisurely spread himself over the entirety of the couch with little to no consideration of where you’re supposed to sit.  Half asleep already he prises one eye open to peer up at you, a lazy smile pulling at his full lips.  “C’mon,” you prompt again, huffing, “My back’s killing me.”   Pregnancy is a joy; that’s for certain.  With each week that rushes by you swear your joints become less and less able to withstand the wear and tear of everyday life, and now, having spent twenty minutes at the kitchen sink having washed up this evening’s dirty plates, it’s protesting more than ever.   “I told you you should’ve let me do them,” Jin sighs, sitting himself up and straightening out a crick in his neck as you dig your fingertips into the flesh at either side of your spine, trying to massage away the pain.   “Maybe.”  You arrange the sofa pillows into an arrangement that appears more inviting, scowling further at how difficult your growing bump makes even the most simple of things - like bending over.  You’re a little scared about how big you’re going to get, actually; you’ve still got eight weeks left till your due date and as far as you’re concerned you’re already the size of a house. “A more chivalrous man might’ve just insisted he do it, you know.” “I cooked dinner!” he exclaims, feigning an indignant expression that only manages to last until you roll your eyes at him, cracking into a smile once more.  “And you know there’s no arguing with you at the moment.” “I’ll give you that,” you concede, turning on the spot in readiness to ease yourself down into the cushions but halting when Jin gives a gentle tug on your hand, pulling you towards his end of the sofa.   “C’mere,” he beckons, “I’m comfier anyway.”  Smiling, you allow your husband to slowly ease your aching body onto his lap.  He’s warm and he’s solid against your back, and it feels so good to finally sit down with Jin’s arms wrapped around you, the feel of his breath on your neck. You shift your weight and he ‘oofs’ as you feel the meat of his thigh move underneath you, rolling against the bone.   “Careful; you’re not so light these days,” he chortles teasingly, placing a kiss on your shoulder through the soft fabric of your sweater.   Jin clearly thinks nothing of his comment, and deep down you know he doesn’t really mean it - he’s just being him, playful Jin - but when you’ve already been feeling a little insecure about the ever increasing mass of your stomach his words really hit home.  You fall silent as the two of you sit watching mindless television, one of Jin’s hands absentmindedly stroking your bump up and down, but after a couple of minutes he seems to realise something’s wrong, resting his chin on your shoulder and peering up at you. “Are you ok?” he asks softly, passing a tender touch over your side, “Is it really hurting that bad?” “No,” you answer him quickly.   You wouldn’t want him to start thinking there was actually something wrong with you; he’s been protective enough whilst you’ve been pregnant as it is.  “Am I… do I really feel that much heavier?” you blurt out when he insists on continuing to look at you with those big brown eyes of his.  His expression becomes one of horror once he realises that you actually thought he was being serious. “Baby, no, I was only joking!”  he assures you, grabbing a hold of one of your hands and lacing your fingers together as he places a softest of kisses against your cheek, “There’s barely a difference, I promise.”  Jin smiles apologetically on pulling back and when you give him a timid, answering smile in return, mollified, his smile grows, handsome face aglow. “In fact,” he continues, “I think you could do with fattening up a little more.  How about I make us some dessert, hm?  I’ll even wash up this time, ok?”

Yoongi 

Fuck it, it’s no use.  Your skinny-fit jeans have finally given up the fight.   You knew this day would come eventually.  It was inevitable that your growing baby bump would one day refuse to be stuffed into the denim confines of your favourite jeans, but you hadn’t really expected it to come so soon.  You’re barely out of your first trimester and yet it seems to you as though you’ve almost doubled in size over the past three weeks; your abdomen far too round now to pass it off as just a particularly bad case of bloat nor hide it under baggy t-shirts.   It’s not as though you’re not happy to be pregnant - no, that’s not it.  This baby is well and truly wanted, the product of almost six months of much enjoyed trying, but… it’s just… You’ve always struggled with your weight.  The first time you’d fit into these jeans was a triumph, well earned after so many hours spent jogging away the wee hours of the morning that you’d have much rather spent curled up in bed with your comatose boyfriend and the gentle sound of his snores.  And now… Now it feels as though it’s all been for nothing.  All that those pounds you lost are going to slowly creep back on no matter how you may try, and whilst you know it’s a necessary evil that you have to face you still can’t help but panic at the prospect that you might not be able to lose them again afterwards.   “You almost ready?” Yoongi calls from where he’s laid back amongst your bedsheets, too busy scrolling through his phone to notice how watery your eyes have become in the mirror’s reflection.  “Joon’s been waiting ten minutes already.”  Pressing your lips together tight and holding your breath you suck your stomach in, giving one last tug on the waistband of your jeans to see if you can make the button and hole meet.  They don’t, of course, and it’s with a great huff of air that you finally let the breath you’d been holding go, groaning aloud.   “Fucks sake!” you exclaim in frustration, giving up and stomping towards your closet in hopes of finding something that might still fit your ever expanding form, so busy holding back tears that you’re unaware of the quizzical look Yoongi is sending your way. “Who spat in your cereal this morning?” he asks, amused, watching you riffle through your clothes so roughly that several pieces fall to the bottom of the closet, cast aside.   “Nothing fucking fits me anymore,” you spit back, and out of the corner of your eye you note the way Yoongi’s eyebrows rise marginally, surprised by the venom lacing your tone, “At this rate I’ll be going to lunch in my fucking pyjamas.”  The bedsheets rustle behind you as Yoongi sits up and shuffles forward to sit at the end of the bed nearest you, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.   “We’ll go get you some new stuff after, then, ok?”  No, it’s not ok, god damn it!  You don’t want new stuff - bigger stuff - you just want - “It’s not a big de-” “It is a big deal!” you interrupt, your raised voice cutting off the end of his sentence.  You throw down the pants you were holding as you spin on your heels to face him, all the tears you’d been holding back spilling over.  “I don’t /want/ to go buy bigger clothes.   I don’t want to get bigger at all!”  Hiding your face you begin to cry heavily into your palms, stood amongst the piles of discarded clothing that litter the floor. You’re just so upset and frustrated and embarrassed to have him see you acting this way over something so ridiculous, especially when Yoongi is always so collected and stoic about everything.  Everyone puts on weight while they’re pregnant, for heaven’s sake, so why are you making such a big deal out of this?   The unattractive sobs and sniffles that you’re expelling sound particularly obnoxious when stood within such a space that’s usually so calm and tranquil, and yet you can’t seem to make them stop; so preoccupied with your insecurities that you don’t even realise that Yoongi’s gotten up off of the bed and walked over until he’s stood right in front of you and placing his gentle hands onto each of your arms, pulling you towards him and shushing you quietly.  Willingly, you fall into his arms and bury your head in the crook of his neck to cry it all out, your arms looped loosely around his slim hips and his around your waist, rubbing gently at your shuddering back. You’ll blame this all on your hormones later on, but you both know it’s not just that. “You’re going to get bigger, sweetheart, neither of us can help that,” Yoongi tells you softly once your sobs have settled down into a subdued snivelling, placing a kiss on the top of your head, “But I promise you, you’re going to look more beautiful than ever.”  You nod into his shoulder, trying so hard to believe the sweet things he says.  You never do for long, really, but as long as you have Yoongi around to patiently repeat them you really hope you might start believing his reassurances one day.   Reluctantly you disentangle yourself from his arms, smiling sheepishly at him from under your lashes as Yoongi smiles back, his dark eyes full of tenderness.  You’re confused when he suddenly reaches for your hair, and as he pulls the hairband from your ponytail to let your hair fall loosely around your shoulders with no explanation that bafflement only grows, especially as then proceeds to hitch up the hem of your top to get at the button of your jeans.   You watch on as he threads the band through the buttonhole and swiftly ties it with his long, dexterous fingers, letting out an ‘oh’ of understanding when he then stretches it across the gap your waistband can no longer close to meet the button waiting on the other side to provide you with just an extra inch or so to work with.  It might well be a crude solution to the problem but it’s certainly effective, and when Yoongi pulls down your top with a satisfied nod you can’t even tell that that’s what he’s done.   You knew there was a reason you loved him. “There.”  His smile is just wide enough for you to see his gums at the corners and you can’t help but smile back at the sight of them, your warm heart full of gratitude.  “Can we go now?”

Hoseok This is starting to get difficult.   With one great, heaving sigh, you set about the task of rolling yourself from one side to the other in bed, trying to keep your knees together like the midwife told you to so as to try and avoid aggravating your already aching pelvis.  It’s easier said than done, though, especially with the blankets on top of you and a humongous baby bump in the way.  Why do you even have to lie on your side anyway?  You’ve never liked sleeping like that. Rebelliously, you pause halfway to lie on your back as you so often used to, tipping your head forward off of the pillow to peer down at the shape of your domed abdomen under the pale pink duvet with a frown.  Not only is the damned thing ugly but it’s also very inconvenient, and it’s with another groan that you recommence your thrashing, having soon realised that the reason they tell you not to lie on your back is because it feels like everything shifts so far up under your ribs that you can no longer breathe. God, pregnancy is a joy.   Why did no one ever warn you about these parts? Probably because the human race would end up as an endangered species if they did, you figure.   Why would anyway willingly chose to render themselves no more elegant nor mobile than a beached whale between the sheets?   The sight of your boyfriend laying flat out on his back next to you greets you when you finally make it onto your right side, slightly out of breath.  He’s infuriatingly dead to the world as he so often is while you’re wide awake and staring at your bedroom walls, trying in vain to fall back to sleep after what’s probably the millionth time that your bladder has disturbed your much-needed rest.   At least he’s something pretty to look at, even with his mouth hanging open slightly as it is.  The strands of his blonde bangs are spread haphazardly across his forehead and over one closed eye, the nostrils of his finely sculpted nose flaring ever so slightly with the soft snores that escape him on every inhale.  He’s lucky you’re feeling generous tonight; mollified by his handsome face.  You’ve kicked him in the shin on more than one occasion for having the gall to flaunt the soundness of his sleep when lying next to you.   The little girl inside you kicks as though she’s volunteering to do the job for you and it makes you smile, one hand tenderly stroking your tummy until a sharp shooting pain from the hip on which you’re lying makes you groan, grimacing as it fades away into a dull ache that won’t shift no matter how you try to adjust yourself, tipping yourself this way and that.   “Fucks sake,” you huff aloud, too frustrated to worry about whether it might wake the sleeping beauty next to you, and it’s with a continuous string of curses that you set about rolling back onto the side were on before, repeating the ordeal all over again.  Halfway there, you warn your bump, “You better be worth it, sunshine.”   You eventually make it back onto your left side, more hot and bothered than other, and it’s as you begin to flap the blankets about, wafting cold air onto your legs that you hear Hoseok stir behind you.  There’s a yawn and then the sound of him wetting lips, and you can only imagine the enviable ease with which he tosses himself onto his side to yawn once more against the back of your neck, one slender arm hooking over your ever-expanding waist.   “You awake?” he asks sleepily and rolling your eyes at the mirror which faces you, you reply, “When am I not?”  He hums in acknowledgement, clearly too groggy to form proper sentences yet, but at least he tries to comfort you by rubbing his face between your shoulder blades and planting kisses through your pyjama top, too - for all the good it does.  “I hate being this big,” you announce after a moment, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth.   The confused little ‘hm?’ and the way Hoseok jumps when you speak again is enough to tell you that he’d fallen back to sleep in the brief reprieve in your conversation, but when you carry on complaining you feel him rouse further behind you, lifting  himself up onto one elbow to peer down at you as best he can in the dark of your room.   “I feel like a beached whale, floundering about like this.  It’s gross.  I’m gross.”   “Hey, stop that,” your boyfriend chastises gently, soothing your aching hip with the light pressure he applies to the area with the pads of his fingertips, massaging away the pain, “You’re not gross.”  You turn your head on the pillow, twisting your neck to look up at him with one sceptical eyebrow raised.  “You’re not,” he insists, tutting his tongue against his teeth at you disapprovingly.   “I beg to differ.”   “Anyway,” he continues, refusing to acknowledge any further derogatory statements about yourself that you may make, “There’s only three weeks left to suffer through, and then all of this will have been worth it.”   You hum back in reluctant agreement, deep down knowing that he’s right but in too much discomfort right now to want to admit it. Hoseok’s soft touch disappears for a second, and you’re about to inquire as to what the hell he thinks he’s doing when he unceremoniously pulling back all the covers before you then realise he’s attempting to help you.  Brandishing one of his pillows, he ever so gently coaxes your uppermost leg up into the air by just a couple of inches and then wedges that pillow into the space he’s made between your knees, smiling sweetly as he settles your leg back down.   “Any better?”   “A little,” you admit, wriggling into the mattress, and on realising that it’s still not /quite/ right Hoseok then sacrifices his last remaining pillow to wedge it under your calf, helping to keep your pelvis straight.   “Now?” He chuckles softly at your replying moan of contentment and the way in which you smile into your pillow, lying back down next to you with nary a complaint that he no longer has anything soft on which to rest his head.  His body is warm and comforting as he snuggles up again behind you, pulling the duvet over you both, and it doesn’t take long after that for you to start to drift off, your eyelids drooping, thoughts quietening - “Hobi… Hobi - I need to pee.”

Namjoon

Are you supposed to look this big already?  Surely this can’t be right? This is a daily occurrence now; you standing in front of the mirror, whinging and whining about how much bigger your stomach seems to be getting day by day.  You’ll grimace at your bloated abdomen, poking and prodding it like some alien thing, and it’s stood in the bathroom doing this that Namjoon finds you one day after he gets home from work, sticking your stomach out and groaning aloud at your reflection. He pulls you away from the mirror with both a tut and a sigh, drawing you into a kiss so sweet that you’re almost able to forget what you’d been worrying about entirely for the few precious seconds that it lasts. “I’ve got you something,” he smiles as he releases you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he reaches into his shoulder bag to retrieve whatever surprise he has in store.   “A peach?”  You take the fruit he so eagerly presents to you, a bemused smile on your face as you turn it over in your hands to feel its soft fuzz beneath your fingertips.  It’s not exactly what you’d expected; you’ve had a real craving for chocolate covered raisins just lately, and you’d not been shy about expressing it.   “Look!”  Namjoon takes the peach back from you and holds it directly in front of the slight paunch you’ve developed, his eyes sparkling with wonderment, “He’s this big already! Isn’t that crazy?!”  Lifting your top up slightly to compare, you can’t help but laugh at how delirious with excitement he is as he peers up at you from where he’d stooped down low to get a closer view, holding the peach side by side with your modest bump. You have to admit; it doesn’t look so bad now you have something to compare it to. The size of your stomach doesn’t seem all that disproportionate to sweet fruit he’s holding, providing some much-needed reassurance that the weight that you’ve gained so far is all baby rather than anything else. “You’ve been on that pregnancy app again, haven’t you?” you tease playfully, your heart swelling with affection as Namjoon places a gentle kiss to your stomach and then straightens up looking mildly embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning pink.     “Maybe.”  He shrugs his shoulders, playing innocent, and then promptly drops the peach he’d been tossing between each hand with a ‘whoops!’, bruising its tender flesh. It doesn’t come as a surprise to you that Namjoon is keeping tabs on how big your little one is supposedly getting.  He’s been way more into this pregnancy than you have right from the very beginning, reading up on absolutely  everything he could get his hands on that’s even remotely related to pregnancy or childbirth from the very moment you’d even started to try.  He was so hyped up during the first ultrasound scan that you’d almost had to threaten him with a timeout if he couldn’t better contain his excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet so rapidly that it’d almost looked as though he was vibrating with joy.   He’s the same when your twenty-week ultrasound comes around, too, still relentless in his enthusiasm even when you discover you’re expecting a little girl rather than the boy Namjoon had been so convinced you were carrying.  He brings home a banana that week and moulds it to the curve of your stomach before he’s even said hello, laughing when you snatch it away and eat it before he has the chance to let it drop.  There’s still a stain on the carpet from where last week’s overripe mango had come to a sticky end and you’d rather not add banana mush to it if you can help it. Week after week this continues, your stomach growing in line with the fresh produce Namjoon presents to you without fail every Tuesday evening.  From grapefruit to cauliflower and then from eggplant to pineapple you progressively swell, and whilst you may still suffer from the odd nagging voice of insecurity now and then when you sneak a peek at the number on the scales, somehow your husband’s little ritual has become a strange sort of comfort; until the size of the items he’s bringing home with him start to look far larger than the passageway their human counterpart growing inside of you is supposedly meant to come out of, that is.   It’s with nervous laughter and a churning stomach that you fake a smile for the photograph Namjoon takes of you holding a pumpkin next to your bump when you reach ‘full term’ at thirty-seven weeks, trying to remind yourself that although she might be that size she most definitely won’t be that shape.  God help you if she is.  Later that night, whilst Namjoon’s sleeping soundly beside you without a care in the world, you say a silent prayer in hopes that your little girl might decide to heed her eviction notice sooner rather than later to spare you the sight of whatever vegetable she’s supposed to be the size of a week on from now.  You might back out of this whole thing entirely if you do.   You’re too distracted by your contractions to realise when Namjoon sneaks something into your hospital bags before driving you to the hospital in labour not two days later, nor do you notice that he seems to struggle with the weight of them.  In fact, it isn’t until your little girl has arrived and is snuggled skin-to-skin against your chest, a blanket over you both, that you become aware that you had a stowaway in amongst your luggage at all.   As Namjoon pulls a fully grown watermelon from your bags, grinning like an idiot, you burst into a fit of laughter so hard that you’re crying by the end of it, tugging on his shirt to pull him into an eager kiss whilst happy tears run freely down your face. “I goddamn love you, you know that?”

Jimin “Baby?” You lift your face out of the pillow you’ve had clutched to your chest for the first time in what feels like hours when you hear Jimin’s sweet voice calling out to you. It’s louder the next time, coming closer, and it’s with a sense of urgency that you sit up and wipe at your face with the too-long sleeves of your cardigan to try and erase any sign of the tears you’ve just shed.   You don’t want him to know that you’ve been crying; not over something as stupid as this, and not when you know this is an issue he himself already struggles with.  He doesn’t need your baggage on top of his own to cope with, as busy and over-worked as he is.   “I’m in here,” you call back as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, relieved to hear that your voice is far more steady than both your hands or your heart.  You feel ridiculous for letting yourself get so upset over something so minor - so inevitable - especially when you didn’t even know the two women you’d overheard debating whether or not you were pregnant, or rather just fat as the taller of them had suspected.   Maybe you wouldn’t have been so affected if it weren’t for you already feeling so insecure about the changes your body is going through.  You’d expected the growing stomach - that much is a given when it comes to having a baby, you know that - but what you hadn’t anticipated was the extra weight your body seems to be eagerly piling on in every other area, too; your cheeks, your arms, your thighs, your bum.  You’re not even halfway through the pregnancy… how are you supposed to cope with whatever the next five months have to bring when you already look and feel as grotesque as this?   “Ya, I’m exhausted!” Jimin announces as he enters your shared bedroom, a heaving sigh following his words, “This new choreo is insane!”  The bed sags behind you, bed creaking in protest as he flops himself down onto it with another sigh.  “How was your day, baby?  Did you go get that crib you wanted?”  You feel his fingertips brushing gently against your hip and you clear your throat in readiness to speak, reassured that the fall of your hair is obscuring any view that Jimin might get of your tear-stained face. “Um, no, not yet,” you reply, dabbing the end of your nose on your cardigan.  It still seems to want to insist on running even now when your eyes are dry and it’s with a ragged sniff that you continue to make excuses, avoiding Jimin’s eyes. “I tried walking to the store but then my hips started aching too much so I just came home.”  You feel him sit up behind you, the flat of his palm coming to rest on your thigh.  “Sorry,” you add a second later, pursing your lips together when he starts to push your hair back from your face to better see you.   “Why didn’t you get a cab?  You should’ve-”  Jimin abruptly stops speaking at the very first glimpse he gets of your red-rimmed eyes and your downtrodden expression, quickly coming to sit at your side and taking both of your hands in his, pulling them into his lap despite the weak smile you offer.  “Baby what’s wrong?” he asks softly, his brows furrowing.  He looks so absolutely sincere in his concern for you that it very nearly breaks your heart to make him worry so over something as superficial as this.   “I’m just being stupid,” you tell him dismissively but Jimin persists nonetheless, shuffling even closer and relinquishing one of your hands to turn your face back towards him with a singular finger on your chin, his eyes searching yours when you meet them.  Knowing he won’t let it go, you take a deep breath.  “I… I’m getting fat, aren’t I?”   If you were in a better mood you might find the way his eyes suddenly widen almost comical, but as it is all you can do is summon a rather half-hearted smile to your lips as you look down at your lap, ashamed.   “But…” Jimin pauses, and you can tell he’s searching for the right words lest he risk upsetting you even further by saying the wrong thing - it’s happened quite a lot lately, as hormonal as you are.  “You’re pregnant, baby, you-” “Fat and pregnant,” you interrupt, wincing as your tone comes out far sharper than you’d intended it to.  Jimin falls silent next to you but his thumb continues it’s slow rub back and forth over the back of your hand until the moment that your shoulders sag, breath shuddering as you exhale an apology.  He pulls you over into his lap, then, wrapping his arms around you as you press your face to the side of his, a fresh stream of tears escaping you.   “I don’t know what’s brought this on,” he begins quietly, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back and turning his head to seek out your lips, pressing them to his in a very wet kiss that he lets linger when it’s done, his forehead resting on yours, “But I promise you, you are not fat, ok?” “But-” “No, no buts,” he says, breath warm on your face, “Look at me, baby.”  Your head gives a slight shake, no, your lips and eyes pressed tight as you try to force your sobs back down.  “Look at me,” he reiterates, and this time it’s not a request; it’s a demand, one you know better than to ignore.  Pulling your eyes open you’re met with the sight of Jimin’s right in front of your own, staring right back at you, and for some reason you don’t quite understand looking into their depths seems to bring you an almost immediate sense of comfort - a dark abyss full of love that you can lose yourself in just for a little while.   “I don’t like it when you speak so badly of yourself.”  You nod into the hands that now cradle your face, briefly closing your eyes when he kisses you again, plush bottom lip soft against your own.  “You’re beautiful, ok?  And even if you weren’t I’d still love you just the same.  Fat or thin - with scars or stretch marks or whatever else life wants to throw our way.” “You promise?” you ask breathily, huffing a laugh at the way Jimin rolls his eyes dramatically at you, leaning back just a little way.   “I promise,” he replies, brushing his thumb over the small, fragile smile that’s now curving the corner of your mouth and smiling back, pleased that he’s been able to lift your mood if only slightly.  “I love you, baby.  Both of you,” Jimin adds, glancing down fondly at the small swell stomach that rests above your skirt, and you whisper the words back to him as he ever so gently passes his hand over the little life growing inside of you.

Taehyung 

It’s a pretty good indicator that it’s been far too long since the last time you and Tae had sex when watching even the briefest of R-rated scenes in a movie has you pressing your thighs together and squirming in your seat, flushed from head to toe with want.   It’s a really inconvenient time for it to happen, too, but how were you supposed to know that watching Deadpool around all the other boys would turn out to be such a bad idea?  You’ve seen it before, for Christ’s sake - you knew about the sex scenes - but they’d never affected you quite like this the first time.   “Tae,” you whisper, trying not to disturb anyone else, “I think I’m gonna head to bed.”  Your boyfriend’s eyes round on you, the dancing lights from the television shining back at you in their reflection.   “You ok?” he whispers back just as softly, one hand automatically reaching out to cradle the swell of your pregnant stomach underneath the heavy blanket which covers you both.   Even before you were pregnant Taehyung had always been a sweetheart - had always cared for you every want and need - but now you’re carrying his child this need to protect and pamper you seems to have increased tenfold.  Nothing is ever too much, no ask too big, and honestly?  You adore how unfailingly attentive he is.     “I’m fine,” you assure him with a smile, placing your hand over the top of his, “Just tired.”  It might well be a lie but it’s not as though it’s a very big one.  You are fine, just a little… frustrated is all.   “Ok,” he smiles back, placing a kiss on your cheek before helping you rise from the sofa with a gentle push to the base of your spine.  He waves cutely as you wish the rest of the group goodnight, and it’s with a soft sigh that you leave him behind and retreat to the bedroom that Taehyung and you share whenever you stay over at the dorm.  You’ve had your own place for a long time now but for practicalities sake it still makes sense for him to have a bed here, too, and it’s under those blankets that you slip after ridding yourself of your clothes, sighing with pleasure as your too-warm skin makes contact with the cool, crisp sheets.   You seem to be running hot all the time lately, and though you know it’s a perfectly normal side-effect of being pregnant you feel as though arousal is exacerbating it tonight.  It's heating your blood inside your veins and quickening your breath, your body responding far quicker than normal to the images you summon behind your eyelids; Taehyung’s long fingers mapping out every inch of your skin, the press of his lips to the inside of your thighs, wide, dark eyes peering up - God, sometimes you hate being pregnant!  Not only does your bump make it almost impossible for you to touch yourself for longer than a couple of minutes at a time without your arm aching, it's also the reason that Taehyung isn't in here with you in the first place.  Ever since you’ve started to grow larger you've felt far too self-conscious to allow Tae to see you naked, nevermind touch you the way you so desperately miss, and it's with a groan of frustration that you try to remember how good it'd felt the last time you'd taken him between your thighs.   “Tae… please,” you whine softly, turning your face into the pillow, but when a familiar voice unexpectedly answers you your eyes fly open wide, your busy hand falling still.   “Something wrong?” he questions quietly from where he's stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes in the flush across your chest and cheeks and smirking when you scramble to sit up, pulling the blankets up to your neck.   “O-oh, nothing!” you sputter out whilst your cheeks are busy blazing, your darting eyes unable to meet his gaze for more than a split second at a time for fear that you'll burst right into flame.  Fuck, you're so embarrassed.  “I was just… I-" “If you needed some attention, angel, all you had to do is say so.”  Lips curving into a smile that's almost predatory, Taehyung mounts the on his hands and knees, ridding himself of his loose shirt in one shift motion before crawling towards you, the muscles in his shoulders rolling as he moves.    “Oh, oh, no, Tae, you don't have to-" He cuts off your breathless words with a fierce kiss, dragging your lips to meet his the moment he can reach so far as to cradle the back of your hand in one of his generous palms and your heart, which had already been pounding so furiously in your chest, starts to gallop even faster when his tongue licks its way into your mouth, stealing the gasps of pleasure right out of your lungs.  As you kiss he pulls the blanket out of your clutches and it casts aside to reveal your naked form, wasting no time in taking one of your swollen breasts into his palm to brush the pad of his thumb over the pink, stiffened nipple in the centre.  

“What’re you doing?” Tae murmurs lustily, chasing after your mouth as you start to turn your face away to grope, eyes closed, for the sheets in order to swiftly cover yourself back up, far too insecure about the changes that pregnancy has forced upon your body to ever want to sit so openly in front of him.  

“I just…” you mumble as you open your eyes to look back into his, wishing he didn’t look so hurt and confused when you gently push his hand away and shuffle across to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheets with you.  “You don’t have to… feel like you have to, just ‘cus I was… I know I don’t look… like I did before.”   You can’t meet his gaze as you speak.  You’re too embarrassed, too self-aware, and though you try to distract yourself by picking at a stray strand of fraying fabric you still can’t ignore the way he has you throbbing between your legs from just a simple kiss.  

“What are you talking about?”  You look up again as you feel Taehyung approach once more, and now his expression is softer as he takes your hand, holding it in his fist and pulling it against his chest.  “Angel, is that why you’ve been keeping yourself away from me so much lately?  You think I don’t want you?” 

“Why would you?” you question back, your mouth twisting as you bite the corner your lip with worry, “Look at me.”  Taehyung actually laughs at that, letting your hand drop and then waiting for a tiny, hesitant nod of consent before pulling the blankets from you once more.  

“Exactly, angel.  Look at you.”  As soon as you’re revealed Taehyung’s eyes start greedily drinking you in, running up and down the length of your body and then back again, and by the time he’s done, lying himself down to lay at your side, his gaze has darkened with lust once more and you’re blushing extra hard when he reaches out to run his hand along the curve of your waist and swollen abdomen, tickling as he goes.  “I promise you, I’ve never wanted you more.  All these months, having to watch you grow nice and thick and juicy when you won’t let me get my hands on you; god, it’s been torture.” 

“… You like it?”  you ask breathlessly, barely daring to hope that Taehyung is actually being truthful about his desires.  He actually likes you this way? 

Taehyung takes a hold of your hand as he leans in closer to rest his forehead against yours, his pupils so wide and deep you could happily get lost inside of them.   “I love it,” he purrs throatily, pressing your palm to the crotch of his pants to feel how aroused he is underneath, and when you squeeze at the bulge he’s led you to Taehyung groans noisily past his bitten lip, tipping his head back.  “Fuck.”  Rapidly, he begins to remove his pants, tearing at his belt.  “Get comfy, angel.  We’re not leaving this bed till we’ve made up for every single bit of lost time.”

Jungkook “You wanna play?”  Jungkook offers when his avatar falls to the virtual ground, killed off for the fifth time in a row without even managing a single shot at the opposing team.  He’s so thoroughly pissed off by this point that he doesn’t even bother to shout and curse at the screen anymore, simply thrusts the ps4 controller your way with a dark look on his face, the sharp angle of his jaw clenched impossibly tight.   Your boyfriend might well be a sweet bunny of a boy for almost 24 hours of the day, but when he’s losing at his most favourite game a decidedly different side of Jungkook comes out to play; one that’s competitive, sullen, and more than a little bit bratty.  He’s fun to play with like this - amusing torment and tease if only for the explosively passionate reaction it usually gleans - but these days you’re not really fit to be thrown around as you often used to be after such games, what with being eight months pregnant and all.   In fact, now you think about it, you’re pretty sure it was during one of those furious forays of tangled limbs that the little boy kicking inside you now was conceived.   “Have you seen my sausage fingers lately, Jeon?” you snort, pushing the controller back his way with a laugh at your own expense.  The last time you’d tried to play your fingers had been too damn puffy to even hit the buttons properly and you’d ended up bursting into a hormonal fit of tears at your own incompetence - one that wasn’t helped by Jungkook laughing his ass off at you until he realised too late just how upset you were.  “Even your camper ass plays better than me these days.”   Jungkook’s stern expression morphs into something decidedly smug looking despite the insult you’d thrown his way, his lips stretched into a smirk and one dark eyebrow raised.   “What’s that?” he asks, cupping one hand around the back of his ear as though he hadn’t heard you, “Are you finally admitting that I, Jeon Jungkook, am the better player?”   It’s surprising that your eyes don’t roll straight out of your head with how exaggeratedly your gaze rises to the ceiling and then drops back down again to see the shit-eating grin still plastered across his face.  He’s lucky that it’s too much effort for you to want to move from the corner of the sofa in which you’ve wedged yourself, otherwise the boy would be getting a sharp slap to one of his ridiculously meaty thighs for being such a cheeky little shit.   “You fucking wish.”   “Hey, language,” he warns, his eyes twinkling with mischief when he glances over at you in the process of quitting the game and grabbing the tv remote to change the channel, “He can hear you in there, you know.”  Silent, and with your tongue poking out of your mouth in defiance, you offer Jungkook your middle finger instead, and when he bursts into a fit of laughter, his chest shaking with the force of it, you can’t help but crack a smile.   Honestly though, how much bigger can you really get?   You’d think that what with only having a few weeks left your stomach’s rate of growth would’ve tailed off slightly, but no.  It just seems to be getting bigger and bigger, swelling exponentially, and at this rate you’re starting to think that opting for the sunroof method of extraction might be a safer bet than trying to squeeze Jungkook’s apparently monstrous offspring out of your vagina - not that you have much choice in the matter.  What will be will be.   “Seriously though, if I get much bigger you’re gonna have to start rolling me around everywhere,” you say as Jungkook puts on an episode of a sitcom you’ve both probably watched about a million times before yet continue to love, shuffling up next to you and slipping his hand behind the small of your back to curl around your waist, sniggering at your little joke.  And yeah, you may have said it for comedic value, but there’s a very real part of you that’s starting to get a little freaked out at just how big everywhere is getting.   Feeling a little insecure, you place your hand on Jungkook’s thigh and squeeze to get his attention, worrying your lip.   “Babe?” “Mmhm?” “You’re still gonna love me if I carry on looking like the Michelin man even after the baby’s here, right?”   Finally, Jungkook drags his eyes away from the screen, looking to you with confusion in his eyes.   “Who the fuck’s the Michelin man?”  You roll your eyes once more, huffing with frustration.   “Just answer the question, jackass,” you snap, intending to move your hand out of Jungkook’s lap but finding yourself unable to when he takes it in one of his, lacing your fingers together.  Jungkook is silent for a moment or two after that, and during that time he looks back at you so intensely that you swear he’s able to see right through you; straight through your bolshy facade to the fragile, insecure young woman that lies underneath.   Smiling softly, he leans in close to kiss you, encasing your bottom lip between each of his own.   “Of course I would.  I always have, haven’t I?” he grins, flashing you rogueish wink that makes your heart flutter girlishly in your chest.  Satisfied by the blush he sees colouring your cheeks, Jungkook releases your hand and makes a grab for the packet of pretzels sat on the coffee table.  He tears the bag open as he slumps back into the sofa cushions next to you and promptly dives in without even pausing for breath, shovelling them into his mouth so fast that you’re unsure how he manages not to choke.   “I take it you’re not about to offer me any of those, then?” you ask tersely as he rapidly demolishes the entire bag before your very eyes.   “Weren’t you just complaining about putting on too much weight?”  he retorts, smirking back at you and then shouting his displeasure when you abruptly snatch the bag out of his hands, thumping him on the arm for good measure. “Carry on teasing the hormonal pregnant woman, Jungkook,” you taunt around a mouthful of pretzel, a grin on your face, “See how far it gets you.”