#elasticated string theory

[pratchettquotes]

"But hold on," said Tiffany. "Won't I be you one day? And then will I talk to me now, as it were?"

"Yes, but the you that you talk to won't exactly be you. I'm very sorry about this, but I am having to talk about time travel in a language that can't really account for it. But in short, Tiffany, according to the elasticated string theory, throughout the rest of time, somewhere an old Tiffany will be talking to a young Tiffany, and the fascinating thing is that every time they do, they will be a little different. When you meet your younger self, you will tell her what you think she needs to know."

Terry Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Goddamn your note about Michael getting pegged makes me think you should elaborate on it because I’m down bad for that nerd and would love it if he cried while getting pegged

Is this anything?

Warnings: Pegging (obviously), smut Word count: I do not know. This is a drabble, I guess? Written within the confines of this Tumblr ask. No beta. We die like men.

The elasticated straps that fit snugly around the swell of her hips and arse make her feel powerful, the satisfying weight of the rubber phallus held firm by them against her crotch furthering the sensation.

But it is the sight of her boyfriend, Michael, laying before her, utterly at her mercy upon the bed that really feeds her ego. Stripped naked, skin flushed and perspiring lightly, as his breaths come in shallow pants, he looks utterly helpless. She doesn't need to look at the way his cock strains and leaks against his lower abdomen to see how eager he is. There is a desperate look of need in his baby blue eyes, framed by the square rims of his glasses, that tells her all she needs to know.

He gives an impatient whimper, his voice barely audible as a whispered "please" escapes him. She giggles, satisfaction washing over her in a warm wave as she watches him plead and writhe against the mattress.

When she had first met Michael at the start of first year, she would never have guessed she would have him in such a compromising situation almost nine months later. The bespectacled, self proclaimed maths genius had been cocky and arrogant, despite not falling in with the popular crowd at Oxford, and he was incredibly uptight alongside it.

In theory, she should have hated him, however, she found herself drawn to his sense of self assurance and unwillingness to conform to the social etiquette required to be accepted by the other students. Their friendship had blossomed into more when she had consoled him after he'd been ditched by Oliver Quick at the pub. She can't remember who had leaned in first, but from the moment their lips met, they were inseparable.

The end of the final term of first year is looming, and with it come exams. Michael has been tenser than usual, irritable and quick to anger. His refusal to accept anything less than utter perfection for his results weighs heavily upon his shoulders. She knows he's guaranteed a first, he's too clever for anything less, and she is sure that deep down he knows it too. However, the intense pressure he places upon himself to revise, despite being able to do it all in his head already, is placing a strain upon both of them.

It had started as a means to help him relieve stress - their usually active sex life had dwindled to nothing as Michael buried himself in text books, and she was so pent up from her own revision that the touch starvation was beginning to get to her. She had wanted to make him feel good, to ease the pressure he was placing upon himself.

The moment she had crawled down the bed and tasted him upon her tongue, all inhibition had left her. Her movements had grown sloppy and uncontrolled as she'd bobbed her head back and forth over the length of him. His soft groans of pleasure had encouraged her and she'd pulled off of him to offer the same attention to his stones. As her tongue had flicked out towards the velvety skin, her enthusiasm causing her movements to be imprecise, she had pressed her tongue lower than intended, the tip of it grazing the tight ring of muscle hidden between his buttocks.

To her surprise, instead of bucking away and demanding she stop, he had gasped, his breathless request of "do that again" making her smirk, but all too happy to oblige. She had pressed a finger into him, its passage aided by the wetness of her saliva and watched in fascination as, after a few well aimed pumps, a string of expletives had left her boyfriend's mouth as he coated his stomach in pearly white spend.

He had seemed more relaxed after that, not quite so intense in the way he carried the burden of his exams. With this in mind, and having unlocked a new side to Michael, she was eager to explore it, and after copious amounts of online research, which she was sure had forever ruined her search history, she had made a discreet visit to Ann Summers the following day. Her skin grew hot with embarrassment as she'd placed the strap on kit and lubricant upon the counter to pay for it, but the excitement of what was to come made her brief humiliation worth it.

Most nights since then have ended with him stretched around her fingers as he spills down her throat, his fingers clutching the bedsheets so tightly that hie knuckles turn white. Concerned she would scare him off, she had yet to bring up the topic of pegging - until this evening.

As she had laid between his thighs, her fingers circling his puckered hole, she had looked up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks and his parted lips.

"How do you feel about pegging?" She'd whispered, her eyes flitting to his.

He'd swallowed thickly, attempting to get his thoughts in order. "What's that?"

Deciding it was better to show him, she had reached into her bedside table, retrieving the Ann Summers bag and taken out the kit to show him.

As his eyes had widened, she was sure he'd tell her no, accuse her of being a weirdo, insist he'd never do such a perverted thing, but he had shocked her when he'd simply asked: "will it hurt?"

She had reassured him it wouldn't, told him that she'd prepare him with her fingers first, use the same lubricant they always do to help loosen him up. It would feel as it normally, just fuller, more intense.

That is how he has come to lay before her now, spread out and trembling with anticipation.

She smirks down at him, leaning over to pluck his glasses from him his face, depositing them onto the bedside table. "Don't want these steaming up."

"But I won't be able to see..."

"Oh, Michael," she coos, "just focus on the sensations."

Taking one of the pillows from the head of the bed, she taps the side of his hip, with a gentle command of "up", before sliding it beneath his pelvis, elevating him to where she needs him to be.

Having already prepared him with her fingers, she spreads a generous amount of lube along the shaft of her strap, and around his opening. Michael's breathing is erratic as he watches her, his grasp of the bedsheets impossibly tight.

"You ready?" She asks, gazing down at him, stroking his thigh.

He nods fervently, his voice shaky. "Y--yeah...I think so..."

"Good boy."

She presses forward, met by slight resistance as Michael inhales sharply.

"Just relax for me, breathe," she instructs gently.

Her passage eases slightly as he relaxes and she stills as she bottoms out, reaching up to cup his jaw tenderly.

"How's that feel?"

"Full," he utters, voice strained, "but not unpleasant."

"Good. I'm going to move now, is that okay?"

He nods again, and she withdraws slowly, before pressing back in. Her heart feels as though it skips a beat as she watches his cock twitch against his stomach, accompanied by his soft groan of pleaure.

Slowly but surely, she increases the pace and intensity of her thrusts, until the slap of her skin can be heard against his. He writhes beneath her as she grips his thighs to hold him in place, no intelligible words leaving his mouth besides needy whines and whimpers.

Taking pity on him, she takes his length in hand - now so hard it looks as though it's actually causing him pain - and pumps it in a steady rhythm with the movement of her hips.

His toes curl, his breaths ragged and face reddened. "I--I'm gonna..."

Unable to finish his sentence, he screws his eyes shut, brow furrowing as he cries out an elongated "fuck", spilling himself over her knuckles in forceful spurts. He trembles with aftershocks, pulsating and twitching against her palm, clenching around her strap, until finally he stills.

As he relaxes back against the mattress, she can see his lash line has turned watery, tears of relief filling his eyes as he gasps for breath.

"You enjoyed that then?" She asks playfully.

All he's able to muster is a tired nod and an "mmm".

"Your last exam's tomorrow, isn't it?"

His eyes swim back into focus as he stares up at her, reaching for his glasses to put them back on. "Yeah...but we can carry on doing this afterwards...can't we..?"

She grins down at him. "Yeah, we can carry on doing this."

Read on AO3

More Michael fics

[darlingdawnauryn]

The Most Important Tools in My Practice

obligatory disclaimer: You do not need any of this stuff to be able to call yourself a witch. If meditation and visualization work for you, or if they're the only things you're able to work with, your practice is no less valid than mine or anyone else's; I just find it more rewarding (and a lot less energetically taxing) to have something anchor me to the physical and keep me grounded as well.

(I do highly recommend a notebook, though. There've been a few times where I haven't written down the ingredients used in a spell and I paid for it later!)

journals. I have a book of shadows and a homemade junk journal to record my sigils and hypersigils. I also keep a record of my dream- and shadow works in my personal journal and have a commonplace book where I record quotes, theories, etc that keep me close to my practice, among other things. Aside from that, writing has always been a key component of finding the magick in the mundane, even when I didn't know to call it that. I'm a full-time writer whether I want to be or not, spending at least an hour a day scribbling down anything from magickal stuff to creative writing projects to notes on whatever book I'm reading. It helps me keep a clear(er) head, which can be beneficial to anyone, practitioner or not. (I also use different colored pens to keep everything organized!)

tiny hair elastics. Braid magick is quick and easy, and it's saved my butt a few times. For those unfamiliar, you braid your hair the way you normally do, but with every time you cross a strand over, you repeat an affirmation: "Everything comes to me easily and effortlessly," or "The only emotions I feel are my own." Since my hair isn't long enough to do one big braid, I substitute little ones and use elastics to bring color magick into the mix and really hammer the point home: yellow for joy, green for abundance or grounding, pink for self love, etc. Tying your hair off keeps the intention locked in and close to you until you're ready to release/undo it.

veils. There are many reasons a witch may choose to veil their hair. Straightening up around the house is one of my devotional acts to Hestia, so I do it then, and I also seldom leave the house without one; it keeps me from picking up outside energy that doesn't belong to me, and it's also a reminder of my devotion to my Craft -- kind of like a nun wearing a habit, if you like. And they don't have to be fancy! My most worn veil is a bandana I bought from Claire's, and the other ones I have are scarves I got from Dollar Tree.

devotional jewelry. I have a snake ring that I wear in honor of Lucifer and an obsidian choker that I only take off when I shower. I wear it both for psychic protection and vivid/symbolic dreams and charge it under the new moon whenever I feel it needs it.

herbs and candles. I use both equally for spellwork as well as ambience; I'll light a candle of a specific scent for a specific desired outcome or to shout out a deity, which I can also do with a simmer pot. I also dress candles with herbs if I want to include my own personal touch (which is more often than not). Carving them is also important to me, not only to emphasize intention, but also to put the craft in witchcraft; this simple act makes me feel like a kid again in a way that is unattached to nostalgia, which is an important part of the practice for me. (I've been using my aunt's mortar and pestle lately as well, and I'm going to get one for myself as soon as I have the means! It's great for adding a lot of my own energy and intention into a spell.)

Bonus! Tools I haven't used yet but want to: a pendulum and pendulum board (both homemade!) to acquaint myself with local spirits, and a white chord/string/shoelace/etc for quick and versatile knot magick on the go.

[eightlivs]

A summary

So, the collider project was the crowning achievement of my career. (Still pissed about it getting blown up, but whatever, I can say that until I'm blue in the face.)

But fuck it, it still ran and it still gave me data and I'm still going to claim the results, so here goes.

...

...

Oh, wait, did you expect me to post my actual data?? HAHA NO. You're getting a summary, because I'll be damned if I post my actual data on a public-facing report log. Fuck you. Read about it in the paper I'll eventually publish, with my name on it. I am not going to let people just nick everything I've been working for.

But here you go. Things my collider has suggested or proved:

You can make micro black holes with as little energy as 9.4 tera-electronvolts (TeV) (aka, you can make them in a sufficiently powerful collider). (The LHC has a max design capability of 6.5 TeV per beam so far. My collider was supposed to start at 4.5 TeV and scale up to 8 TeV after upgrades (for a total of 16 TeV).)

Micro black holes exist. (These are just tiny, tiny black holes. They’re actually quite safe, so long as you aren’t standing near them. They pop into existence, then evaporate (see below) and disappear.)

There’s more than three spatial dimensions. (Also see here.) (Considering only three spatial dimensions, the “black hole threshold” is WAY too high, and you won’t be able to make a black hole of any size in a TeV-capable collider. The Planck mass (a natural unit of mass derived from only natural constants) is indicated to be a minimum limit on black hole masses - and the calculations just don’t allow black holes in the TeV range when using only three dimensions plus time. So, in order for black holes to be possible in the TeV range, you have to have a way to scale gravity in a way that’s stronger than in our three spatial dimensions. Otherwise, you won’t have the right conditions for a black hole. With more than three spatial dimensions (personally, I prefer M-theory, a version of string theory which favors ten spatial dimensions plus time), gravity can operate throughout ALL those dimensions, and can scale differently, lowering the “black hole threshold” into the TeV range.)

Gravity works in more than 3 dimensions. (In order for everything above to work, gravity has to permeate more than three dimensions in order to actually scale properly.) (Additionally, the fact that appearing and collapsing black holes can “grab onto” space enough to shred it indicates that gravity does indeed affect space itself.)

Black holes do indeed evaporate. (This has been accepted for a long time - Hawking proposed it in the 70’s, hence why it’s often referred to as Hawking radiation. The old idea that “nothing escapes a black hole”? That’s a trick statement, because technically, black holes DO radiate stuff, and lose mass and energy when they do. (hence the nickname “evaporation”). We’ve never had experimental proof of it before, but now, we know from looking at the data from the collider’s test runs that the micro black holes DID indeed evaporate and disappear in a flash of energy.)

More evidence that gravitons should be a thing. (String theories predicted a graviton, a subatomic elementary particle that regulates gravity.)

Warping space can shred the fabric of spacetime. (This is where the magic happens! The collider creates streams of micro black holes, which have gravitational pull and “bend” space a little bit. Then, the micro black hole disappears, and space snaps back. However, if you have a ton of micro black holes doing that, it’s pulling space in all sorts of rather violent directions all at once, and actually rips the space. That’s where the dimensional “portal” opens up.)

Space is, indeed, elastic to some degree - either that, or it can move fluidly enough that it looks like it’s healing the tears. (The dimensional “portals” were only open while the collider was on, and closed up when the collider turned off.)

Space DOES seem to have some form of “surface tension” or resistive buoyancy - possibly gravity? - that pushes back. (When the original Parker got pushed into the beam by Green Goblin, it took effort to hold him there, as if he were being pushed back.)

Parallel universes exist.

Different laws of physics exist in those universes. (This one’s a little bit less hard-proven and a little more “strongly suggested,” in that the spiders’ glitching seems to almost be on an atomic level, hinting at different underlying base physics.)

There’s some as-of-yet unnamed phenomenon which allows parallel-universe “versions” of a person to be summoned by throwing DNA into the collider beam.

I could think of more, but I think that’s enough stuff for today.

Footnotes: Hey folks! Long time, no see!

First things first, don't take anything here as truth. This is a lot more speculative fiction!

Second, I'm not starting this blog up again. I don't have the time for it - each post typically took days to weeks to research and write, even though they're short posts, and while I loved writing them, I just can't fit it in.

However, I found this in my drafts today - it's been sitting here since 2019! - and I'm not sure why I never posted it. It's something I remember putting a LOT of work into, though, and someone might find it interesting! I remember I wanted to list out possible things that Liv's collider experiments would have implications for, and there's a number of things here about the fictional collider's functions that I hadn't gotten to touch on.

Honestly, I don't thoroughly remember enough to vet the concepts fully as of today, but it's all fictional anyway. Like I said, don't take anything here as truth! If one could operate a collider like Liv’s, and get those particular results, then it’s POSSIBLE it would imply things, BUT in OUR universe, they haven’t been proven (and, again, I'm not a physicist! I'm a hobbyist armed with books and Google, and there's a high chance I've misinterpreted things here or there).

Citations are in-text as links.

Concepts that already existed: These are generally accepted as either a "thing" or "viable theory" by physicists. Micro black holes, Hawking radiation, more than 3 dimensions, gravitons, M-theory.

Concepts that already existed, but are kind of shaky: making micro black holes in a collider, parallel universes.

Concepts that I totally made up based on the movie (and thinking way too hard about things): shredding spacetime, space having surface tension, different laws of physics in parallel universes, the “as-of-yet unnamed phenomenon” of the last one.

Voilá! If anyone has questions about any of the science here, feel free to shoot me a message or an ask! I’ve tried pretty hard to include real-life info to build off of, and to clearly indicate what parts I’m just making up!

[positivelybeastly]

Smash or Pass - Reed Richards

"What - Dr. Richards? No! Pass! The man's a scientific icon! I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye! Besides, why in god's name would I bother him about something like sex when I could ask him about his incredible voyage into space, or his thoughts on string theory, or - "

"Pass. We're friends, but I wouldn't say I'm quite so close to him as the other Henry, or even Tony. Reed's a solitary soul - frankly, I was a little surprised when he had a second child. Sex just doesn't seem like a thing that he particularly thinks about. I'm sure he's more than capable of performing, but not for me, thank you."

Henry takes a moment to think about it.

". . . Elastic physiology . . ."

". . . Smash."

[processandenquiryemma]

2D into 3D workshop - developing

To build upon what I had learnt during the 2D to 3D workshop and inspired by the NUD series by Sarah Lucas, I wanted to experiment with using unconventional materials sculpturally - turning 2D tights into a 3D sculptural form.

Tights are a familiar everyday object but are transformed into an entirely different form. The twisting of the material is reminiscent of limbs, veins or musculature. This mingling of the familiar and unfamiliar taps into the uncanny.

Further, the tights were chosen as a sculptural material due to their close association with the body. The transparency and elasticity mimic flesh and the fragility of the tights themselves echo the softness of the skin they resemble.

I began by removing the tights from the packaging and arranging them in a pile. Next, I unfurled each pair of tights and began to twist and knot the tights with no set methodology - just what felt right.

I chose to suspend the forms I had created, using two nails which were already hammered into my studio wall to hang the soft, sinewy-looking forms from. The tension and stretching of the material remind me of bodily contortion.

Next, I stuffed both legs of a pair of tights with white synthetic stuffing which made the the tights spring to life - they soon began to resemble a pair of lumpy, fleshy legs. I arranged the legs in different compositions - tying and twisting them together. The colour of the tights and their resemblance to human legs meant that an emotiveness started to form, sometimes the composition read as closed off and vulnerable in mood while the unnatural twisting and contortion tapped into an uncanny quality.

Using the remaining pairs of tights, I stuffed just the foot area of the tights and bundled them together. These forms were reminiscent of Eva Hesse's 1966 sculpture Untitled or Not Yet. I began to combine the two sculptures, weaving them together

inspired by ___ I felt compelled to experiment with the effect of binding the tights. I used red embroidery floss, tying a knot at the feet and slowly winding the thread around the legs. This pressure on the soft filling caused bulges to form which I found to be visually interesting, like soft rolls of fat or meat bound with butcher's string.

I used the blade of a pair of scissors to slash, cut and pull at the fragile nylon tights. With this mutilation, the white stuffing began to ooze from the tears which added a new abject quality to the works as well as the new fluffy texture of the filling contrasting with the smooth sheen of the tights.

The oozing stuffing emerging through the cuts in the tights suggested to me a disruption between the boundaries of the inside and the outside of the body, which draws upon the theory of the abject and uncanny.

My final experimentation was combining all of the sculptural pieces together to create a strange, grotesque creature reminiscent of organic sprawling body parts.

I intended for these works to address my bodily insecurity and the perceived horror of my own form.

The tights are a clothing piece often used for the purpose of smoothing, shaping and perfecting the body. However, I have transformed the tights into a display of the body's perceived imperfections, with bulging and bound flesh. The tights further reference the pressure to conform to an idealised body - the swollen, irregular forms subvert this by highlighting the 'unidealised' body in an exaggerated, raw and vulnerable manner.

[fulltestbank]

Test Bank For Elementary Differential Equations and Boundary Value Problems, 12th Edition  William E. Boyce

TABLE OF CONTENTS   Preface v   1 Introduction 1   1.1 Some Basic Mathematical Models; Direction Fields 1   1.2 Solutions of Some Differential Equations 9   1.3 Classification of Differential Equations 17   2 First-Order Differential Equations 26   2.1 Linear Differential Equations; Method of Integrating Factors 26   2.2 Separable Differential Equations 34   2.3 Modeling with First-Order Differential Equations 41   2.4 Differences Between Linear and Nonlinear Differential Equations 53   2.5 Autonomous Differential Equations and Population Dynamics 61   2.6 Exact Differential Equations and Integrating Factors 72   2.7 Numerical Approximations: Euler’s Method 78   2.8 The Existence and Uniqueness Theorem 86   2.9 First-Order Difference Equations 93   3 Second-Order Linear Differential Equations 106   3.1 Homogeneous Differential Equations with Constant Coefficients 106   3.2 Solutions of Linear Homogeneous Equations; the Wronskian 113   3.3 Complex Roots of the Characteristic Equation 123   3.4 Repeated Roots; Reduction of Order 130   3.5 Nonhomogeneous Equations; Method of Undetermined Coefficients 136   3.6 Variation of Parameters 145   3.7 Mechanical and Electrical Vibrations 150   3.8 Forced Periodic Vibrations 161   4 Higher-Order Linear Differential Equations 173   4.1 General Theory of n?? Order Linear Differential Equations 173   4.2 Homogeneous Differential Equations with Constant Coefficients 178   4.3 The Method of Undetermined Coefficients 185   4.4 The Method of Variation of Parameters 189   5 Series Solutions of Second-Order Linear Equations 194   5.1 Review of Power Series 194   5.2 Series Solutions Near an Ordinary Point, Part I 200   5.3 Series Solutions Near an Ordinary Point, Part II 209   5.4 Euler Equations; Regular Singular Points 215   5.5 Series Solutions Near a Regular Singular Point, Part I 224   5.6 Series Solutions Near a Regular Singular Point, Part II 228   5.7 Bessel’s Equation 235   6 The Laplace Transform 247   6.1 Definition of the Laplace Transform 247   6.2 Solution of Initial Value Problems 254   6.3 Step Functions 263   6.4 Differential Equations with Discontinuous Forcing Functions 270   6.5 Impulse Functions 275   6.6 The Convolution Integral 280   7 Systems of First-Order Linear Equations 288   7.1 Introduction 288   7.2 Matrices 293   7.3 Systems of Linear Algebraic Equations; Linear Independence, Eigenvalues, Eigenvectors 301   7.4 Basic Theory of Systems of First-Order Linear Equations 311   7.5 Homogeneous Linear Systems with Constant Coefficients 315   7.6 Complex-Valued Eigenvalues 325   7.7 Fundamental Matrices 335   7.8 Repeated Eigenvalues 342   7.9 Nonhomogeneous Linear Systems 351   8 Numerical Methods 363   8.1 The Euler or Tangent Line Method 363   8.2 Improvements on the Euler Method 372   8.3 The Runge-Kutta Method 376   8.4 Multistep Methods 380   8.5 Systems of First-Order Equations 385   8.6 More on Errors; Stability 387   9 Nonlinear Differential Equations and Stability 400   9.1 The Phase Plane: Linear Systems 400   9.2 Autonomous Systems and Stability 410 9.3 Locally Linear Systems 419   9.4 Competing Species 429   9.5 Predator – Prey Equations 439   9.6 Liapunov’s Second Method 446   9.7 Periodic Solutions and Limit Cycles 455   9.8 Chaos and Strange Attractors: The Lorenz Equations 465   10 Partial Differential Equations and Fourier Series 476   10.1 Two-Point Boundary Value Problems 476   10.2 Fourier Series 482   10.3 The Fourier Convergence Theorem 490   10.4 Even and Odd Functions 495   10.5 Separation of Variables; Heat Conduction in a Rod 501   10.6 Other Heat Conduction Problems 508   10.7 The Wave Equation: Vibrations of an Elastic String 516   10.8 Laplace’s Equation 527   A Appendix 537   B Appendix 541   11 Boundary Value Problems and Stur-Liouville Theory 544   11.1 The Occurrence of Two-Point Boundary Value Problems 544   11.2 Sturm-Liouville Boundary Value Problems 550   11.3 Nonhomogeneous Boundary Value Problems 561   11.4 Singular Sturm-Liouville Problems 572   11.5 Further Remarks on the Method of Separation of Variables: A Bessel Series Expansion 578   11.6 Series of Orthogonal Functions: Mean Convergence 582   Answers to Problems 591   Index 624         Read the full article

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, dear 💛 firstly, I am congratulating you for your blog, you’re doing an amazing stuff and I’d very delighted to support ya’ 💕 so here’s mine; what about a hitman/assassin yandere who is very infamous in underworld for his reputation finally finding his darling, what would be his first encounter and the after? A little bit smutty maybe? It’s up to you, 🌹

Aww, thank you so much for the support and for the idea. I hope that you will like how it turned out. It isn’t as filthy as I wish it was, but oh well, there is always a next time lol

 Title: Stone cold 

 Tw: female reader, obssessive behavior, non-con, dub-con, veery slight knife play, slight dirty talk 

   You should have known that something was up the very moment someone knocked on your door on a Friday night – it was unusual. Especially when you take into an account the weird accidents that had been happening the last three months. People in the neighborhood went missing one by one, some of your personal items like clothes, lipsticks and even toothbrushes were stolen and you always felt a pair of eyes burning a hole through your back. But still, you didn’t want to freak yourself out and tried to stay positive, reasonable. If someone wanted to take you out, they would have already done it, right?

 While mentally encouraging yourself, you slowly got closer to the black door. By now the knocking had stopped, but you could hear the soft breathing of your visitor outside of the apartment. In a way you really wanted to stop for a second and rationalize why this unknown person was breathing so damn loud, but decided against it – what good would it do anyways? With that in mind you finally reached out to unlock the door and slowly opened it to reveal a man, covered from head to toes in black. The darkness of the corridor had swallowed  all of his recognizable features and you could only make out his eyes, while his mouth and nose were hidden away by a ski mask. And if this wasn’t alarming enough, the bulge in his right pocket looked suspiciously close to the shape of a gun.

“Caught you.” The intruder hummed, looking more than pleased with himself, and his eyes sparkled with a wild emotion you didn’t know the name of. Your body was paralyzed at the sight of the weapon and you were starting to regret moving into such a dangerous area where no trace of a police involvement could be found. Not that you would have the time to call them anyways since the next moment the man had managed to push you  to the floor with a loud „boom”, pinning your body down with his own. You finally gained the courage to scream your heart out, but your terrified cries were quickly muffled by the gloved hand, covering your mouth.

 “You scream one more time and I will drill a fucking hole into your pretty little head.” The man whispered into your ear in a dark, eerie voice. “Right here.” He gently touched your forehead in a clear warning. You broke out into a cold sweat, but remained motionless, immobile. “Do you understand me?” The hitman asked huskily and pressed his elbow into your shrinking stomach. You nodded quickly, your heart now racing so fact you could almost feel the abrupt beats against your skin. You had made a grave mistake opening the door, but it was too late now.

 “Good.” The stranger smirked like a wolf, ready to tear apart the innocent lifeless lamb in front of him. He finally raised his hand away from your mouth. As if to prove your darkest fears and theories, the man suddenly took a sharp shiny knife out of his left pocket and slowly ran it trough your exposed collarbone. He only let the very end touch your skin but its coldness, combined with the adrenaline rushing into your veins, were enough to send you over the edge with fear. “Don’t panic. I have already decided to keep you for myself, so as long as you behave, I have no reason to hurt you. ” The man finally uttered after watching you squirm helplessly for a while, the stupid teasing smile never leaving his lips. He took off his mask and dropped the knife on the ground, just a few inches away from your carotid artery, and fiddled with the first button of your thin shirt. This mere action of his made shivers run down your spine and you couldn’t help, but shut your eyes tight, just for a moment, just to put yourself together.

 “Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, cringing at the way your voice broke into a sob right at the end. You never thought that you would be violated on the cold, hard floor by an unhinged psychopath, but fate always finds a way to screw with us, they say.

 “Do you know who I am, princess?” The man asked with a smug, arrogant expression on his face. You shook your head in response. In an alternative universe you might have thought that the intruder was quite handsome – broad shoulders, dark green eyes, a well defined jaw line and a strong muscular body. But in the current situation the only word you could use to describe the dangerous fellow was insane. He had shamelessly attacked you in your own home, your supposed safe heaven, and showed no remorse whatsoever. “You might not know me, but I know you.” The man continued. “I used to work with your father. ” His gaze was now fixed on you. “I doubt that daddy dearest has ever shared with you what he does for a living, but tell you, it isn’t pretty.” The trespasser lowered his head to bite at the soft skin of your neck, making the hairs on your neck bristle due to the unexpected contact with his teeth and because of that you couldn’t even register the hurtful words he was spitting about your father. You didn’t want to believe him anyways. “But he made a mistake.” The man added, still licking your sensitive skin. “The bastard messed with the wrong people. Stole money from my boss too. Lots and lots of it.”

 “T-that can’t be true.” You moaned in discomfort against your better judgment and tried to kick at his joints out of impulse. But of course, he quickly grabbed your leg before any damage was done and pinned it back to the floor.

 “Oh, but it is, princess. And that’s where I come into the picture.” The man purred contentedly, his attention on you once again. “I am quite infamous in the underworld, ya see. ” He stopped to make air quotes with his fingers. “ My name is Edgar, I am an assassin. I would kill anyone and everyone for the right price. ” For a second the murderer stared at intensely. You could swear that his eyes turned red in a spar of moments and in them you saw a mixture of bloodlust and a desire for flesh. “So when  they asked me to hunt you down in order to mess with your dad, I obviously agreed. It started off as a way to make an easy buck, but the more I followed you around and collected private information, the more I postponed killing you.” The man sighed, seemingly frustrated with himself. “At first I thought that I wanted to plan out your disposal well ahead of time and that’s why I was wasting so much time, but soon enough I realized I was interested in you.” He smiled softly this time as if he was recalling a pleasant memory, involving you. “You were so sweet, so… normal. I wanted you.”  The assassin admitted at last and took a deep breath. His little confession had made you vivid, frantic with worry, and suddenly you were a living, breathing creature again. You scratched at the back of his neck and summoned all of your strength left to get your hand out of his grasp. You tried to punch him right in the face, but your attempts were fruitless as he easily overpowered you. Before you could strike again the ruthless killer picked up his knife from next to you and put the blade under your chin. His eyes sparkled with childlike excitement.

 “There is no point in fighting me. Everyone already thinks you’re dead, I made sure of it.” The man moved the edge down, stopping at your cleavage. He licked his lips suggestively and the alarms in your mind went crazy all over again. “Your life belongs to me – your body and your heart too. I will take you right here and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Edgar laughed cruelly as he cut the fabric of your blouse, revealing your chest, hidden by your plain bra. With one swift move the string holding it together was ripped apart and your upper body was fully exposed to the hungry eyes of the stranger. He cupped your breasts with his palms and massaged them gently, twisting your erect nipples lightly with his fingers. You wanted to numb the unfortunately pleasurable feeling but it wasn’t going away as the intruder kept on teasing the swollen tips.

 “S-stop!” You protested, shaking your shoulders violently. Everything was starting to feel too real and you couldn’t let the savage man take away from you something so intimate and personal. In the end he paid no mind to your continuous struggles and selfishly did as he wished.  Soon enough his hand traveled down your thighs, to your crotch. Edgar slid his wrist beside the elastic waistband of your panties and wasted no time, starting to rub the sweet spot between your legs. You held back a moan, as the embarrassment washed over you.

 “Don’t hold your voice back, princess.” The assassin growled in your ear, pressing harder on your sensitive bud. You couldn’t help, but cry out due to the intense pleasure you were receiving. “Yeah, just like that, let me hear you.” The man kept fingering you, while you arched your back, and eventually you felt yourself getting damp down there. The killer chuckled, satisfied with your cute reaction and the way you were squirming around his forefinger.

 “You act like you hate all of this, but your pussy is so wet, baby.” He suddenly drew his fingers in and out of your entrance, making a lewd pop of splashing juices just to get his point across. “You might turn out to be a little slut after all, huh.” Edgar whispered in your ear and licked the trace of salty tears down your scarlet cheeks. Your face felt red and hot, your eyes were still shut tight. The way his touch made you feel was so invasive, yet ecstatic none the less

 After the man had stretched you properly, he was ready to claim his prize. The assassin had spent so much time stalking you, following you, desiring you and now he finally had you in his arms, exposed and split open for him alone. Moving down to leave wet kisses and love bites along your shoulders and collarbone, the intruder lowered himself onto your tight, sloppy hole and you felt his hard erect member rubbing onto your tight entrance. A new powerful wave of hot, choking tears fell down your cheeks as you shook your head violently.

 “Please, I am begging you, don’t do it!” You whimpered, defeated and light-headed from the fear, arousal and adrenaline, pumping in your veins. Edgar ignored your pathetic pleas and instead decided to shut you up by gently pressing his lips against yours, moaning into his little seal of love. He pushed his big throbbing cock into your heat ruthlessly, unable to wait any longer, simply using your wetness as a lube. The murderer started thrusting into you in a steady, harsh rhythm, without giving you the time to adjust to his inhuman length. In just a few minutes your mind had stopped worked and you were reduced to a mumbling mess of tiny moans and mewls.

 “S-shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking tight.” The man exclaimed, breathing heavily and quickly moving his hips back and forth along the way. One particular move of his send you very close to the edge and your walls clenched down on his dick, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Did I hit your sweet spot?” The man smirked, running a hand trough his sweaty dark hair. The other one went straight to your nipples, twisting and rolling them once again. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out in unwanted, but intense pleasure. “Wanna cum, baby?” Edgar teased, as he touched every part of you  – your breasts, your belly and your soft thighs. “Wanna squirt all over my cock?” The criminal kept taunting you, driving you crazy little by little. “Do it. Cum for me, princess.” Soon enough your sensitive, over stimulated body convulsed as the powerful hot orgasm washed over you. You felt dizzy, tired and lost. Unfortunately, the crazed man wasn’t finished yet – he kept thrusting and thrusting, until he finally released into your very core.

 Once his breathing calmed down, the intruder pecked your cheek tenderly, pulling you in his lap. It went better than he had imagined it would.

 “You did so well, princess. So good for me.” Edgar stroked your hair lightly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But you couldn’t make half of his words as exhaustion and shame overtook your tired mind, the voice in your head screaming louder than the man’s love affirmations. But maybe it was better that way – anything else would be too painful after everything that had happened. “You are mine now.” The killer spoke after a while, before hugging you even tighter. Soon enough you would realize there wasn’t an easy way out of his warm, deathly embrace.

[seeuonadarknite]

freak — yandere oikawa tooru x f. reader

warnings: noncon, bullying, degradation, creampie, hickeys, exhibitionism

Milk bread? Check. Coffee? Got it. Gum?

"Shit!" The sound of your school loafers pattering against the sidewalk resonated throughout the desolate road as you hastily detoured back to the gas station. You were probably the store's first customer of the day, and here you were ever so graciously returning because you forgot something as minimal as chewing gum.

Any sane person would forget the gum and continue their journey towards the school. But you were far from that. You had to have a few screws loose if you willingly took time out of your day to cater to your high school bully and buy him a few of his favorite snacks. Hell, his friends have even dubbed you as his little admirer due to your obedient nature.

But you weren't catering to his needs like some sort of servant because you wanted to impress him. The only thing that kept you from smacking him across the face and calling him a stuck up jerk was pure fear. You're not some masochist that enjoys being taken advantage of by someone with a power imbalance over you all because of his stupid social status, but your options are limited.

It's either play along with his brutal torment for the rest of the last semester, or try and defend yourself and place a giant target on your back for his vicious fan girls. And even if you tried fighting him back, you wouldn't even need to be outnumbered by his friends to lose. We're talking about the Grand King here. He'd take you down by himself in a matter of seconds.

As hard as it was being seen as a freak that embraced Oikawa's torment, you'd much rather lose your dignity rather than your own safety. If Oikawa told those girls that you tried laying a pretty little finger on him, he'd be throwing you into a pit of rabid wolves to shred you apart and eat you alive.

Plus, you weren't as bad as everyone made you out to be. If there was anything Oikawa was better at other than playing volleyball, it was lying. He could spread a rumor about you robbing a damn bank and not a single person would bat an eye at his impossible claim. The fact that he has the entire school body in the palm of his hand is more than unsettling. Saying you weren't interested in testing his immeasurable power was an understatement.

Sprinting over to the spot behind the school that Oikawa was oh so keen on meeting you at, your heavy pants soon turned into wheezes. God, you were only three minutes late but you were shaking like a leaf. If anything positive came out of this situation, it was that you learned that it'd be a good idea to bring a grocery list next time, and maybe some water.

"You're late, [y/n]. Care to explain?" It wasn't hard to miss the irritation that laced the normally cheerful male's tone. Lo and behold, Oikawa was already stood at your regular spot, looking as cocky and smug as ever. There was nothing that excited him more than watching your face visibly drop at the sight of his presence. What, did you really think you'd get by with being even a second late? Time was precious, and you weren't going to get away with wasting his.

Oikawa basked in the way you powerlessly trembled as he made his way towards you. You didn't even bother trying to cower away, it was priceless! Placing a hand on your chin, he forcefully tilted your head upwards and rubbed a thumb over your lower lip. "I-I'm sorry! I.. I forgot the gum.." He shot you a glare. "B-But I went back and got it! That's why I'm a little late.." You could barely even muster up a coherent response, you were so nervous.

Judging by the way he ripped the grocery bag out of your hand and began rummaging through the contents of the bag, he was not buying your excuse. Picking up the can of cold coffee you had specifically picked out for him, his eyes narrowed in disgust. "You got me the kind with creamer. Are you trying ruin my perfect body image?"

Diverting his gaze from the coffee to you, he sent you an expectant look. If you didn't come up with a reasonable excuse within the course of a few seconds, Oikawa would make you regret waking up this morning. "This was the last one left! I'm sorry—" Lies. You cut yourself off as you felt a cold, sticky substance run down your chest and seep through your school uniform.

He was pouring the coffee you had paid for all over your chest, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile while doing so. You couldn't tell what was more discomforting, the feeling of ice cold coffee sticking to your skin, dripping all the way down to your bellybutton, or the unsettlingly lustful gaze Oikawa held on your figure. He had to be joking. Sure, he was a jerk that got off on making your life a living hell, but he never took it to such perverse extents.

"Aww, you look so cute with your tits covered in coffee. You must be freezing! I'll warm you up." Somehow the idea of him warming you up sent chills running up your spine. There was no way in hell he was about to do something thoughtful like giving you his jacket or helping you clean up the mess he deliberately made.

Forcefully grabbing you by the shoulders, Oikawa shoved you onto the cement with ease, watching your face contort into a cringe. You could already feel the rough texture of the ground scraping at your skin through the thin fabric of your uniform. Was he about to beat the shit out of you? Why was he looking down at you like a starved carnivore?

Instead of answering the questions rapidly flowing through your head, Oikawa straddled your waist with both lanky legs. However, instead of trying to fight him back, you stare at him with a dejected look in hopes of him hurrying up whatever the hell he planned on doing.

"Now, I'm sure you're not big on getting attacked by my loyal fans. So do me a massive favor and be quiet, alright?" You wanted to wipe the stupid smirk right off of his face as he basically threatened you. This man was about to use you for his own personal pleasure and there was nothing you could do about it.

Glancing down at your glossy eyes one last time, Oikawa basks in the fearful expression that adorns your face. Making quick work of your coffee stained uniform, he popped open the buttons, giving himself a clear frontal view of your sticky cleavage.

A small smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the lacy bra that adorned your body. "Not only have you decided to wear such a lewd piece of clothing, but you wore the kind that snaps open in the front? Ahh, you must want me to fuck you."

Oikawa wasted no time in snapping open your bra, allowing your breasts to spring free. Both of your tits were on perfect display for the setter's hungry eyes to gaze at. You felt powerless and small under his primal stare. It couldn't possibly get any more worse than this.

Maybe the rumors were right, maybe you were a tad bit unhinged. Any sane person would've seen this coming from a fucking psychopath like Oikawa. "P-Please.. don't do this.." You gave pleading one last shot as you stared pathetically into his chocolate brown eyes that gleamed with amusement.

Unfortunately for you, your doe eyes only seemed to egg the cocky brunette on as he roughly clasped your breasts with each hand. Although the uncomfortable, yucky feeling of coffee sticking to your skin still lingered, the only thing you could zero in on was your tormentor's working hands as he squeezed your hardened nipples in between his slender fingers.

He was squeezing and fondling your sensitive mounds like stress balls. Did he forget that you were a human just like him? Has he really amounted you to a mere plaything for him to toy with whenever he pleased? With the way that his hands kneaded and pulled at your breasts like dough, you were beginning to think that your theories were correct.

His half lidded eyes flicker up to yours for a split second, allowing him to witness the deliciously mortified expression you wore. Within a fluid movement, Oikawa leans down and traps your lips in a ferocious kiss. It started off with just Oikawa forcefully merging his lips onto yours, but with the squeeze of your breast you regretfully gasped, allowing passageway for his wet appendage.

It's hard to decipher what's more uncomfortable; the feeling of Oikawa's tongue swishing around yours, rendering it nearly impossible to breathe or the obvious hard on he has rubbing up against your skin. When he finally pulls away, his breaths are heavy and uneven.

Hooking his fingers under the waistbands of your skirt and panties, Oikawa tugs the elastics down, watching as your slick strings down along with your panties. Crimson shaded your cheeks as you averted your gaze from Oikawa's. If there was any possible way of coping with the mortifying situation at hand, it'd be closing your eyes and pretending to be anywhere but where you were.

Unfortunately for you, sight wasn't your only sense. Shutting your eyes wouldn't stop you from hearing the sound of Oikawa's belt buckle clinking, and it wouldn't prevent you from feeling his hardened cock running across your thigh. Opening your eyes, you couldn't help the audible gasp that escaped your lips as you gazed at his cock. It was as big in girth and in length as all of his fan girls had claimed. You really hoped that they had been bluffing.

Oikawa seemed to appreciate your unwavering eyes, as he prodded the tip of his cock at your hole. "Wait! Please, don't.. At least use a rubber." You pleaded, trying your hardest not to let any lewd noises to escape your mouth as he began easing his head into the walls of your cunt. However, all your pleading did was evoke an amused chuckle from the man top of you.

"Aww, that's all you're worried about? Don't worry, I'll pull out," He coos, grabbing the curves of your hips to steady himself as he pushes himself further inside of your pulsating hole. As uncomfortable as the foreign feeling of Oikawa's massive cock pushing your walls apart was, you felt a small wave of relief wash over you upon hearing his response.

He seemed to notice the look of relief taking over your features, because he sent you an ear to ear grin that put the cheshire cat to shame. With a forceful thrust that would surely leave you sore, Oikawa finally pushes the rest of his length into the constricting walls of your cunt. "..after I cum inside of you!" He grabs onto your legs and folds them into your chest within a fluid movement, making it easier for his cock to reach spots your measly fingers would never be able to find.

He either didn't notice or decided to ignore the the way your body physically tensed at his response. He was joking. Right? Sure, he obviously knew no boundaries and had no problem using and abusing your body, but you assumed he had the smallest bit of self control. Maybe you were thinking too highly of him.

Rearing his hips back a fraction, Oikawa thrusts back into you, already kissing the tip of your cervix with the head of his cock. His pace starts off slow and steady, allowing your insides to memorize each and every curve and vein on his cock. If you weren't so upset with him for doing this against your will, you would've been appreciative of his benign thrusts.

Glancing up at the clock that hung from the back of the school, Oikawa cringed. He had to make this quick. His comfortable, languid pace quickens as soon as you can relax. The once quiet spot behind the school is soon filled with sounds of grunts, moans, and ear deafening slaps. Any regard for your personal comfort is gone out the window, as he thrusts in and out of you at a rapid, unrhythmic pace.

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, running his lips over the sensitive skin whilst his hips smack against yours at what feels like one hundred miles per hour. "Maybe I'll mark you. Nobody else will be allowed to fuck you like this, only me.." If your mind wasn't zeroed in on the feeling of his balls slapping your rear at full speed, you would of picked up on the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

Eyes trained on the skin of your neck, Oikawa began sucking and nibbling, leaving a trail of purple bruises starting from your neck and ending at your chest. It was a mystery how he managed to create love bites and brutally fuck your hole at the same time.

Just the twitch of his cock causes your insides to squeeze at his length like a snake constricting around its victim. "Fuck, you're really tight, huh?" He grunted in your ear, basking in the way your insides devoured his throbbing cock with each and every thrust.

As Oikawa somehow managed to fasten his pace, he moved his hand down south, placing the pads of his fingers onto your swollen nub. If you weren't close before, you definitely were now. With the pressure of his fingers working absolute wonders on your clit, and his throbbing cock desperately pushing at your cervix, your body begged you for release. A small knot formed in your abdomen as his movements quickened, and your plushy walls began clamping down on Oikawa's cock.

With one last harsh hit to your cervix, you come undone, gushing your juices all over his twitching cock. As soon as you reach your well awaited climax, your vision begins to spot and your brain starts to fog. You were far too dazed to focus in on Oikawa hooking his arms over your thighs and slamming himself into your aching hole at a ferocious pace. "Aw, what a little baby! You came so fast." He taunted in your ear, half lidded eyes trained on your figure as he pummeled into you with hostile thrusts.

Although he teased you for releasing so fast, he felt his own climax arise with the way your innards hugged his cock. All it took was one last final thrust into the milking clutch of your cunt before he reached his end, hitting your swollen cervix one last time to shoot his load into your womb with a drawn out groan. God, he didn't regret ditching his condom for a second. Seeing his hot, thick fluids seep from your quivering hole boosted his already inflated ego. Only he was capable of leaving you like this.

Sliding his cock out of your dripping cunt, Oikawa watched as you sat up from your spot on the cement and began buttoning up your shirt. Cute, now coffee wasn't the only sticky substance splattered all over your skin.

After pulling his pants back up and fixing his disheveled hair, he helped you up from the ground. It would've been a kind gesture, if he hadn't followed it by forcefully tugging your panties back up with a condescending grin. "Don't go to the bathroom or wash up. If you do, I'll fuck you again and cum inside of you twice. Don't forget, I have eyes everywhere." His voice was disturbingly cheerful for the unsettling words that came from his mouth.

Sending you one last signature grin, he flashed a peace sign at you like you were one of his fan girls asking for a picture. It baffled you how two faced he could be at times. "See you later, slut!" He giggled before leaving you alone at the scene, drenched in all kinds of different liquids.

Whoever told you that high school was going to be easy was lying through their teeth.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

2 Oct. Suptober: No Vacancy

"There were no vacancies for a radius of nearly 25 miles. But I did find one room, finally. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam paused. "Have you spoken to Dean today?"

snippetfic; deancas

"Is this what it's like in Norway?" Dean asked, faint horror dripping from every word as he pushed a few cable knit sweaters from one side of a circular rack to the other.

"Sweden," Sam corrected. Off Dean's blank look, he clarified, "The store's from Sweden."

"Well, whatever. Happiest people on earth, my ass." Dean flicked the strings of a gray hoodie on a nearby hanger and sighed. "This place is giving me the heebie jeebies. Everything in here smells like ink."

Sam rehung a shirt the price tag referred to as 'muscle fit band collar' and prayed for strength. "We just need a few new clothes, and this place is closer than the nearest army surplus." And it wasn't like the three-acres large sentient mushroom purportedly threatening citizens two towns away was going anywhere quickly. In theory. 

"There's gotta be a thrift store around here somewhere. Suburb like this? There's probably nine different churches running a yard sale outta their basement."

"We have a gift card, thanks to Donna." Sam shrugged. "May as well use it."

Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to protest again, then spotted something in a far corner. Sam wanted to try on a pair of trousers and he was willing to let Dean work out his aggression towards moderately priced fast fashion by himself for a few minutes. In the cramped, smudged dressing room, Sam decided that maybe Dean was right to be unimpressed. Why did these khakis have elastic bands at the bottom of the legs, like a pair of sweatpants from the 1980s? Why were Sam's bony and pale lower shins so hideous by the glare of fluorescent lighting? 

He was spared further inane inner commentary by his phone bleating in the pocket of the jeans he already owned. "Hey, Cas."

"There are many young athletes in this county." Cas's tinny voice bled frustration. "They are energetic and loud."

"The tournament's over tomorrow."

"That did not help me today." It sounded like Cas was pulling a boulder out of his truck, with more difficulty than an angel should have had. "There were no vacancies for a radius of nearly 25 miles. But I did find one room, finally. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam paused. "Have you spoken to Dean today?"

A mirrored pause. "No?" Cas made the word seem multisyllabic.

"Okay." Sam put the terrible trousers back on their plastic hanger. "We'll see you in an hour or so." 

"Wait," Cas said. "Is something wrong with Dean?" 

The concern that radiated from the phone could have powered a nuclear warhead. Sam thought it prudent to keep his smile out of his own voice when he said, "Dean's fine, man. You just left the bunker without telling him you were leaving, is all."

"Oh." Cas was squinting; Sam just knew. "I didn't tell you either, Sam."

Yes, but I'm not butthurt about it, Sam thought. "It's fine, Cas. You found us a case." So far, all the case had really yielded in Sam was a desire to eat pizza loaded with portabellas as soon as he could get his hands on a pie, but Cas didn't need to know that. "No worries."

"All right. I'll see you…when you get here." Cas disconnected.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face to try to remove the exasperation from it. He braced himself for whatever mood he would find Dean in now.

This did not prepare him for how depressed Dean was, still in that one corner of the store, looking at flannel shirts. 

"You can't complain about the selection here," Sam said, nodding at the rack of buffalo plaids. "You own at least four shirts that look just like these."

"I hate this fucking music." Dean rolled his eyes up to the ceiling like he might try to bite one of the speakers embedded between the acoustic tiles. 

The song the ceiling blared, made more grating by a short somewhere in the speaker, was pretty bad, Sam had to concede. Why Dean couldn't just tune it out was a question Sam had no answer for. Perhaps they were no longer fit for mainstream shopping, Sam considered. Perhaps they never had been. A nearby salesclerk frowned at Dean's scowl and hightailed it away from his general grumpiness. 

Sam decided to try his luck with a different pair of trousers, checking the cuffs on them first, and was just about to head back to the dressing room when the disembodied ceiling voice sang, "Used to be that I felt so damn empty. Ever since I met you, no vacancy."

Yeah, okay. Not Sam's cup o' rock-n-roll tea either, he would readily admit. But he glanced over at Dean, and Dean was not grinding his teeth or clenching his jaw or glaring disdainfully. No. Sam saw, with both a pang of sympathy and a generous helping of humor, was that the subpar blah pop lyrics were getting under Dean's skin. 

In the midst of a bunch of mall clothes too trendy for the Winchester boys, Dean Winchester was pining. 

"Cas called," Sam said, casual as a crew neck t-shirt. "He's got a room for us an hour from here."

The transformation Dean underwent in that moment, from despondent Gen Xer disillusioned by consumerist propaganda and the kind of lonesomeness that only afflicted those lonely for a specific person to Man with A Renewed Sense of Purpose, was so instantaneous Sam physically could not keep from laughing.

"What?" Dean said, his expression morphing into a masterpiece of confusion.

"Nothing." Sam let his laugh trail off with a reasonably content, if also defeated, sigh. "I'm trying these on." He hoisted a pair of jeans aloft and headed back to the dressing room. "I like this blue plaid," Dean called out, suddenly the store's biggest fan.

"You should buy it for Cas," Sam called back. "It'd bring out his eyes."

That Dean seemed to be seriously considering the purchase was enough to start Sam smiling again. The dressing room was still unpleasant, but at least he knew the drive to even-more-middle-of-nowhere, Ohio, would be, if nothing else, fast. 

(with apologies to fans of OneRepublic :))

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Words: 500~

Summary: His family’s not present, the third time he runs away.

Early corruption AU.

Finally writing some more of this. I have a few buffer chapters already polished, and aim to post chapters any time I finish a new one two ahead. I’m mostly just hoping to keep this as simple and loose a writing experience as I can, because often I can get stuck in my own head, y’know?

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

____

“Okay, what the heck was that?!” Amethyst cries as she rushes out of her room, her full attention immediately homing on her friends, standing huddled against each other on the warp pad.

At first glance Garnet and Pearl appear thoroughly disturbed, which, given Steven’s uncrackable string of irregularly ill-tempered behavior the past few days, something which has been stressing out all of them to the core, is fair. At second glance, she finally drinks in the humbling sight of the destruction looming behind them and halts in her tracks. Her jaw drops amidst waves of shock. Stars, it looks as if the whole right side of the house caved in! All of the support beams for the lofted bedroom have collapsed into what once was the living room, the second floor with it. Sharp spikes of sheared wood jut out at strange angles from the massive pile of scrap, glass, and rubble. Plenty of Steven’s personal items— furniture, clothing, photographs, a thoroughly destroyed television unit— are scattered amongst the mess, but the teen himself is nowhere to be found. As far as they’re aware, he hasn’t set foot on Earth since he ran out on them for Homeworld a day ago.

“I... we don’t know,” Pearl says, voice shaky and expression dazed. “I was simply organizing some of my old weapons in my room, when—“

“We heard a deafening roar, from outside the temple,” Garnet finishes in her steed, stepping forward onto the smooth stone. “And then we emerged to find this.”

Frowning, Amethyst creeps towards the massive mess to dig for more information as the other two Gems continue to fret and postulate, her concern deepening with each and every footfall. The closer she approaches, the louder the floorboards creek underfoot, many sounding as if they’re threatening to destabilize with the next feather’s weight that falls upon them. Yikes. Much of the underlying infrastructure of this house has probably been wrecked by whatever crashed through the side. She cringes, pointedly making sure to tread carefully across this minefield of a living room, least she step on something too delicate and break entirely through.

As she finally reaches the edge of the wreckage, a flash of bright pink waves for her attention. Squinting, she carefully shuffles forward to gain a closer look, isolated pieces of a terrible theory already latching together like an unwanted puzzle within her core.

“-be another corrupted Gem? I know we thought we found all of them, but surely it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility for there to be a small handful that have escaped your future vision until now, r-right?”

“I don’t know, Pearl,” Garnet says with increased intensity, anxiously flexing her fists at her side. “You must understand, there’s very little I can see with certainty right now.”

“Y’guys!” Amethyst calls, pulling the item of interest out from underneath a long supporting beam. It’s ripped in a few places, and the once white elastic edging the sleeves and bottom hem is stained a dirty yellow from contact with debris, but it’s most definitely his.

Pearl and Garnet’s expressions curl with the appropriate degree of horror upon realization of what the existence of this unique article of clothing amidst the rubble of his bedroom means.

“Steven was here.”

[taurustony]

The Order of Time by Andrew Jaffe(2018)

According to theoretical physicist Carlo Rovelli, time is an illusion: our naive perception of its flow doesn’t correspond to physical reality. Indeed, as Rovelli argues in The Order of Time, much more is illusory, including Isaac Newton’s picture of a universally ticking clock. Even Albert Einstein’s relativistic space-time — an elastic manifold that contorts so that local times differ depending on one’s relative speed or proximity to a mass — is just an effective simplification.

So what does Rovelli think is really going on? He posits that reality is just a complex network of events onto which we project sequences of past, present and future. The whole Universe obeys the laws of quantum mechanics and thermodynamics, out of which time emerges.

Rovelli is one of the creators and champions of loop quantum gravity theory, one of several ongoing attempts to marry quantum mechanics with general relativity. In contrast to the better-known string theory, loop quantum gravity does not attempt to be a ‘theory of everything’ out of which we can generate all of particle physics and gravitation. Nevertheless, its agenda of joining up these two fundamentally differing laws is incredibly ambitious.

Alongside and inspired by his work in quantum gravity, Rovelli puts forward the idea of ‘physics without time’. This stems from the fact that some equations of quantum gravity (such as the Wheeler–DeWitt equation, which assigns quantum states to the Universe) can be written without any reference to time at all.

As Rovelli explains, the apparent existence of time — in our perceptions and in physical descriptions, written in the mathematical languages of Newton, Einstein and Erwin Schrödinger — comes not from knowledge, but from ignorance. ‘Forward in time’ is the direction in which entropy increases, and in which we gain information.

The book is split into three parts. In the first, “The Crumbling of Time”, Rovelli attempts to show how established physics theories deconstruct our common-sense ideas. Einstein showed us that time is just a fourth dimension and that there is nothing special about ‘now’; even ‘past’ and ‘future’ are not always well defined. The malleability of space and time mean that two events occurring far apart might even happen in one order when viewed by one observer, and in the opposite order when viewed by another.

Rovelli gives good descriptions of the classical physics of Newton and Ludwig Boltzmann, and of modern physics through the lenses of Einstein and quantum mechanics. There are parallels with thermodynamics and Bayesian probability theory, which both rely on the concept of entropy, and might therefore be used to argue that the flow of time is a subjective feature of the Universe, not an objective part of the physical description.

But I quibble with the details of some of Rovelli’s pronouncements. For example, it is far from certain that space-time is quantized, in the sense of space and time being packaged in minimal lengths or periods (the Planck length or time). Rather, our understanding peters out at those very small intervals for which we need both quantum mechanics and relativity to explain things.

In part two, “The World without Time”, Rovelli puts forward the idea that events (just a word for a given time and location at which something might happen), rather than particles or fields, are the basic constituents of the world. The task of physics is to describe the relationships between those events: as Rovelli notes, “A storm is not a thing, it’s a collection of occurrences.” At our level, each of those events looks like the interaction of particles at a particular position and time; but time and space themselves really only manifest out of their interactions and the web of causality between them.

In the final section, “The Sources of Time”, Rovelli reconstructs how our illusions have arisen, from aspects of thermodynamics and quantum mechanics. He argues that our perception of time’s flow depends entirely on our inability to see the world in all its detail. Quantum uncertainty means we cannot know the positions and speeds of all the particles in the Universe. If we could, there would be no entropy, and no unravelling of time. Rovelli originated this ‘thermal time hypothesis’ with French mathematician Alain Connes.

The Order of Time is a compact and elegant book. Each chapter starts with an apt ode from classical Latin poet Horace — I particularly liked “Don’t attempt abstruse calculations”. And the writing, translated from Italian by Erica Segre and Simon Carnell, is more stylish than that in most physics books. Rovelli ably brings in the thoughts of philosophers Martin Heidegger and Edmund Husserl, sociologist Émile Durkheim and psychologist William James, along with physicist-favourite philosophers such as Hilary Putnam and Willard Van Orman Quine. Occasionally, the writing strays into floweriness. For instance, Rovelli describes his final section as “a fiery magma of ideas, sometimes illuminating, sometimes confusing”.

Ultimately, I’m not sure I buy Rovelli’s ideas, about either loop quantum gravity or the thermal time hypothesis. And this book alone would not give a lay reader enough information to render judgement. The Order of Time does, however, raise and explore big issues that are very much alive in modern physics, and are closely related to the way in which we limited beings observe and participate in the world.

article taken from https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-018-04558-7 With that in mind, Enjoy this picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

How do you think The Kid would act/react when the reader in Sound and Color has to finally go back to work?

Note: This takes place after “On the Nature of Daylight” and "Quantum Entanglement.” It’s a little too long for a drabble, but not quite long enough for a story.

“Theory of Relativity”

Eight hours. That’s how long she said she would be gone, but he had no way of knowing if it had been eight minutes or eight years since she left. Time, for Henry, did not follow a linear pattern. It could slip suddenly and twist back in on itself, going retrograde, or stretch from the gravity of his emotions, lengthening the distance he had to travel to move from one second to another. She had given him instructions before she left for work—a list of things he could do in her absence to keep himself occupied—but they hadn’t stuck in his mind and he couldn’t remember where he’d left the slip of paper she’d scribbled on when his responses went from hums of understanding to a blank stare as he retreated into himself.

It wasn’t that he always needed her direction. He had established a sort of routine that he followed. When the sun began to filter through the curtains around his bed in the morning, the little orange cat he had rescued would wake him up by chewing on his hair, letting him know she wanted breakfast. He would go downstairs and measure out her cat food. She was skittish and watchful while she ate, and if he wasn’t there, she usually became too anxious to finish her meal, so Henry sat beside her and buried his fingers in her soft fur, scratching her behind the ears now and then until she was done.

That’s where the woman usually found him when she came into the kitchen in her bathrobe and started to make coffee—sitting on the floor with the cat. She always smiled at him and sometimes he felt the corners of his lips twitch reflexively in response. She would scramble some eggs while he made toast, and then they would eat together in comfortable silence.

After breakfast, he moved through the house like her shadow as he completed his own rituals. He sat under the window in her office and laid out the newspaper on the floor so he could scan over the pages, searching for words that stood out to him as though they were printed in bold font. Power. Penitent. Pisces. Pangborn. Possession. Plural. Parabola. When he had gone through each page, he would reassemble them in reverse order and leave them on her desk while he went to take a bath.

Sometimes after lunch he played piano or cut a length of string and laid on the floor watching the cat go wild over it. When the sun started to go down, the woman would flick on a lamp next to the couch, and Henry would curl up under a blanket and read about brain elasticity in a medical journal until his eyes grew heavy and he found himself sinking into the haze of sleep.

Now, without her there to anchor him in time and space, he couldn’t put the events of the day into order. He shuffled through every room in the house as though he might find her hiding in any one of them even though he knew she was gone. He felt her absence pull at him like a tether. He thought if he followed it like a rope in the darkness, he would find her at the other end, but she had told him to stay in the house. When he couldn’t think of what to do next, his mind circled back to that simple command, and he focused all of his energy on obeying it.

The dog crate in the basement had long been disassembled and hauled to the dump. She had tried to ask him once why he’d locked himself inside of it while she was gone. He felt a strange kind of pain radiate from her when she searched his face, trying so hard to understand. It wasn’t her own pain, he realized. It was the pain she thought he should feel, but he only felt disoriented and exposed by the cavernous space of the living room with its two-story windows that looked out onto the moonlit lake. He tilted his head to the side. “It was quiet,” he told her without meeting her eyes. “I was quiet.”

Henry’s fingers brushed over the cool metal of a doorknob. He pushed it open without thinking, stepping over the threshold into her bedroom. It felt haunted by her presence even though she wasn’t there. Her scent hung in the air, something warm and sweet and dappled with shades of pink and white. He padded over to the bed in his mismatched socks and pulled back the covers. It felt strange to be in her room without her, but he knew she would forgive him his trespasses. Sometimes she knew what he needed before he did, and right now, he needed her.

He crawled onto the bed and burrowed down under the blankets, inhaling the scent of her floral shampoo on her pillow. His mind went still, no longer ruminating on how long it would be before she returned. She had been here before, leaving an indelible imprint on time and space. He could feel her radiance somewhere in the universe, resonating at the same frequency as his own. If he wanted to, he could grab hold of the tether and pull her back to him. But she had told him to wait for her. She had promised he would be okay, and that she would be home as soon as she could. Her words replayed over and over again in his mind. He held onto her pillow tightly and listened to the ticking of the clock in the hall. “Trust me,” she had told him before she left. And he did.

(part of Sound and Color: a series of The Kid/Henry stories/drabbles)

@girlinthecorner @hiddlelecki @skrsgardspam @scxrsgxrd @grandpa-sweaters @stevesharrlngtons @upirs

[sepublic]

Behold, after all this time… Part 3 of Bionicle: RaE! RaE is short for ‘Redone and Expanded’… I’ve already redone G2’s original duology. But what of the expansion? I’ve said that I would expand the story from there, and make it almost three timesas long as the original G2!

Well, here it is- Part 3: Life! I’m really excited to share this with you guys… I’ve had this in the works since 2016, shortly after Bionicle G2’s cancellation! It marked my determination to really DO something with G2, to expand on it and make a mythos matching its predecessor, or at least coming close to it! It isn’t exactly perfect, and there are a few bits I need to smooth out, as well as a plot-hole or two I need to resolve… But for now, THIS is easily the most fleshed-out of my fanmade ‘Parts’! It brings a whole new world to match the landscape of Okoto, the ‘cursed land’ of Xia… And I hope you guys enjoy the new storyline I have to bring!

As always, below is a beginning excerpt; The rest is accessible through the link!

          Makuta is dead.

           He was vanquished in the battle on the Mount of Darkness’ peak, slain by his brother Ekimu the Mask Maker, now Toa of Creation. Axonn, Kualus, Vakama, Lesovikk, and Brutaka have all disappeared, with Krahka and the Rahi going their own ways; Save for the Red Serpent, which stays with its Okotan friends. Okoto itself has suffered grievous scars from the Elemental Horde’s razing of the island, but now the fully-empowered Elemental Deities are working to heal the damage, bit by bit. It is a long and arduous process, but progress is definite.

           While the Deities are no doubt grateful to the Toa, by the end of the day their alliance dictated the mutual defeat of their respective enemies, before cutting ties off. Thus, the Elemental Deities are only bound to repair Okoto, while the Okotan Alliance works by itself to track down and handle the remaining members of the Brotherhood of Makuta. Still, some endearing memories and experiences are held close to heart, even if deities are normally not supposed to interact with mortals and favor them too much.

           The Toa are celebrated as eternal heroes, and as the Toa of Creation, Ekimu is crafting Masks of Power and other ingenious inventions at an unprecedented rate. Yes, there are Brotherhood forces still out there and unaccounted for, in hiding ever since Makuta’s demise. But with Makuta himself dead and Umarak trapped within the Mask of Shadows, hidden in an undisclosed location by Ekimu; What is there to fear? It seems that a new Creation Age is approaching, a second one no longer marred by Makuta’s influence, a reborn era wary of the mistakes of the past and willing to rectify them. The celebration with Makuta’s defeat was immense.

           So why is Narmoto so nervous?

           The Protector of Fire is definitely relieved by the defeat of Makuta, certainly- But now that Makuta is out of his mind, it seems an old fear, once locked away in the face of more immediate threats, is resurfacing… His wife and his son, Lhii, are concerned.

           Almost as if in response to Narmoto’s concern, a string of ghastly, grisly murders suddenly emerges across Okoto. Reports come in, of Okotans found dead in their sleep, their bodies torn asunder as if by some horrific beast- Yet those nearby never recalled hearing such a monster. Checking the room where the slain had slept, there is no trace of a struggle, no trace of anything, be it a Skull Spider, or Energy Leech, or the like having made its way into the bedroom. Locked doors remained locked the entire time, with mechanisms set in place to detect if they are breached; Only for the mechanisms to remain still, even as the next morning another victim is found dead.

           Paranoia quickly besets Okoto as it rallies warily, trying to ascertain the threat. Something is killing others in their sleep, when nobody else is watching; And somehow doing it without setting off a single alarm, without alerting anyone or anything. The Toa, Protectors, and other warriors remain vigilant and on guard, unsure of what to do. Eventually, a clever experiment is held, as someone is instructed to don a Mask of Stealth and watch over a friend.

           Days pass- Until one night, that sleeping friend begins thrashing about, increasingly distressed from a horrific dream of some sort, as they begin moving around. They begin to react with increasing intensity to their nightmare, terrified- Until wounds suddenly appear across their body. Before anything too bad can happen, the victim is awoken just in time.

           The victim tells of a horrific nightmare appearing in their sleep, specifically targeting them. When it harmed them with its claws, those same wounds appeared in the real world, terrifying the Okotan Alliance- Their new foe, this new killer, is a being who can access the dreams of others and kill victims within them.

           Everyone is mystified, with Ekimu recalling legends of those who could access dreams, but usually such examples were found right beside the dreamer in order to infiltrate the mind. How is this possible? Regardless, the Okotans remain vigilant and on-guard, attempting to stay awake as much as possible. People are instructed to sleep in groups and shifts, with allies watching over one another as they sleep, ready to wake someone up in case a bad dream evolves into something worse.

           As Okoto becomes exhausted, Onua hypothesizes that whoever is doing this is bound to space- Recent, subsequent kills all happen close to one another, indicating the culprit is travelling, entering dreams to kill, and then moving on. Thus, they presumably can’t access the dream of someone far away, so for every recent kill in one region of the island, everywhere else is presumably safe. This theory seems to work somewhat, and guards are set out to areas with recent attacks. Masks of Power are made to detect anything, but nothing can track down the mysterious killer- And when someone IS attacked, Masks of Radar and the like only detect the victim’s soul!

           Eventually, the killings suspiciously cease, but everyone continues to remain on-guard. One night, Ekimu falls asleep… Only to be attacked in his nightmares.

           However, Ekimu is prepared, having donned the Mask of Control. With full control over his own mind, Ekimu is able to manipulate the world in his dreams even better than the shape-shifting perpetrator, and captures them in his grasp. The killer, caught, shifts back into their true form; A serpentine, bat-winged creature with elastic properties.

           The killer reveals their name and identity, to Ekimu’s shock; He is Yagavo, one of the Rahkshi, Sons of Makuta! Yagavo, incensed and mourning his father’s death, has vowed to avenge Makuta by slaying his enemies and continuing the Mask Hoarder’s original plan to take his rightful place among the gods.

           Ekimu attempts to keep Yagavo trapped in his dream with the Mask of Control, but Yagavo, underneath desperate circumstances, breaks out of the dream himself by revealing his presence in the real world. Yagavo’s physical body suddenly manifests besides Ekimu’s sleeping form, now free of the dream, even as Ekimu himself awakens and immediately attacks.

           As Okotan forces immediately awaken during the commotion, Yagavo manages to escape, his abilities revealed; The power to access a parallel, dark version of Okoto, devoid of all life. This ‘Para-Realm’, as he calls it, is Okoto’s shadows, reflecting and mirroring its landscape. If a pit is dug into Okoto, minutes afterwards an actual pit will form in the Para-Realm, in the exact, identical place.

If Yagavo goes into the Para-Realm and moves forward five-feet, and then heads back to Okoto, he will be five-feet away from where he disappeared. The Para-Realm is like an identical map, laid directly over Okoto, and by accessing it, Yagavo can disappear completely from one world, undetectable and unstoppable. Yagavo had used this ability to access the dreams of Okotans from the Para-Realm, enabling him to stealthily kill people without having to expose himself in the light world.

Yagavo escapes, even as Ekimu alerts and warns the rest of Okoto, which is dismayed but not too surprised to see that more of Makuta’s creations are now resurfacing. Even as Okoto regathers its arms, Yagavo resurfaces, now leading what is left of the Brotherhood of Makuta. The Okotan Alliance goes into conflict with Yagavo and the Brotherhood of Makuta, with Yagavo utilizing the threats of his dream-murders to keep Okotans anxious and awake, exhausting soldiers and making it easier for Brotherhood forces to take them out in the real world. The Toa hunt down Yagavo, who is well-aware of his physical weakness, being a glass-cannon compared to the rest of his brethren.

Meanwhile, Matoro herself begins to have a recurring nightmare of a darkened being, but is it not one that seems to necessarily hurt her- Just torment Matoro psychologically, with Yagavo elsewhere. Matoro makes sure to tell the others of this, but based on the evidence, it’s apparently just that- A dream. Or, a vision…?

Elsewhere, Taiki spots the demigod Krevasse, sneaking away with a stolen egg in tow- Upon being noticed, Krevasse panics and drops the egg. Curious, Taiki picks up the egg and takes it to Kinigan scholars to study, but nobody can recognize its species! Not even Ekimu is aware what this egg will birth, and fascinated, Taiki takes it upon herself to work on hatching the egg. She sets to work, nursing the egg tenderly, figuring out how to nurture it, even as she makes plans to track down Krahka and see if her knowledge on Rahi can help.

All the while, Narmoto remains concerned. Whatever has been troubling him isn’t Yagavo- So what is it, then?

During a battle against the Brotherhood of Makuta, Gali ends up being endangered. Just before she can defend herself, she is suddenly barraged with intense, mental agony, leaving her vulnerable for an Energy Leech to attack. Luckily, she is rescued just in time by her allies, and everyone is left wondering what could’ve performed the attack. Perhaps it was a Kal, having absorbed the powers of a Mask of Telepathy… But even so, Gali notes that this mental attack was far more intense and concentrated than any Mask of Telepathy she had come up against. Likewise, there weren’t any Kal nearby; So who could’ve done it? Yagavo had never displayed such an ability.

As everyone else begins to consider the possibility of yet another Rahkshi, Narmoto inquires as to the exact location of this battle. After learning the information, he dons a Mask of Stealth and heads by himself, alone, to where the battle had been held. He makes sure to watch from afar, wielding a Mask of Sight, and waits…

Unbeknownst to him, a wary Yagavo learned of the unusual mental attack from the forces present at that battle, and heads off to investigate, watching Okoto from the Para-Realm and spying on Narmoto. He begins to look around the source of the mental attack, having his suspicions, and stumbles across something in the tunnels of the Para-Realm…

Narmoto heads underground, but is secretly trailed by Ekimu, who has heard of the Protector of Fire’s unusual behavior and is now investigating himself. Underground, Narmoto finds a pale, hunched-over being, huddling in the darkness, and addresses them as Dweller. Dwller smugly addresses Narmoto like an old comrade, mocking him over the new life and ‘fake name’ he had made for himself on Okoto- But he warns Narmoto that the past will continue to haunt him, always, and is about to return. The shadow of Narmoto’s crimes has been trailing him for a while, and now it’s about to emerge.

Dweller assaults Narmoto with a powerful mental barrage, but a prepared Narmoto manages to fight back somewhat. During the battle, Dweller is forced to move around and is briefly struck, causing him to drop something; A faded, golden-shard, of unspeakably old age, faint and worn-down from centuries of not only decay, but by a day of something far more powerful…

Ekimu, arriving to help Narmoto, is shocked, immediately recognizing it as a fragment; A shard, one of six, from the Mask of Life all those years ago.

Ekimu immediately demands to Dweller how he found this shard, and if he knows the location of the others- But Dweller retaliates with another mental attack. Ekimu, prepared, creates a shield that is able to defend himself and lunges in to defeat Dweller, only for Yagavo to appear. Yagavo teleports in from the Para-Realm, seeing his chance to kill Ekimu, and manages to wound the Mask Maker as he focuses his attention on the Rahkshi. Dweller, seeing an opportunity, begins fleeing down the tunnels, even as his mental power summons something else…

To Narmoto’s shock, a massive, subterranean worm appears, swallowing Dweller whole. For a moment, Narmoto is unsure of what happened- But then he realizes Dweller must somehow still be alive. Ekimu, adapting to Yagavo’s sudden ambush, begins to contact everyone else to help him catch Dweller, even as Yagavo calls in his own Brotherhood forces.

Okotans and Toa arrive to fight, with the Brotherhood of Makuta coming in to intercept. In the chaos, Dweller, makes his escape, having used his mental powers to brainwash multiple animals into his loyal bidding. Narmoto gives a particularly frantic chase after Dweller, but is defeated by the pale being as he gloats that the Shadowed One will finally punish his insolence after all these years. With a brainwashed Gukko to help him, Dweller flies off and arrives at the coast of Okoto. There, he digs up a submerged, silver canister, one identical to the one the hunter Kualus used a few months ago to arrive on Okoto, and later leave the island.

Dweller enters the canister as its hatch-lid closes on him, and the cylinder’s machinations begin to function as it heads back into the ocean, turbines activating. The canister begins to spin rapidly, and dives beneat the waves, heading out into the dangerous, endless oceans beyond Okoto.

With Dweller having escaped, the battle ends in a stalemate as Okotan forces retreat. Ekimu, terrified and having old trauma re-awakened, angrily confronts Narmoto about Dweller, demanding to know his past with the being, and who The Shadowed One is. Narmoto, equal-parts exhausted and paranoid, insists that the Okotan Alliance must immediately prepare an expedition across the ocean to track down Dweller.

Naturally, everyone inquires as to how they’d track down Dweller, and where he’s even going in the first place- There is no land beyond Okoto, right? At that point, Lewa interjects, recalling the story that Kulta the Skull Grinder told him… About how the Skull Raiders hailed from a cursed land, travelling across the ocean in search of a better, safer place, and found Okoto. On a hunch, he immediately theorizes that perhaps this is where Dweller is headed?

Expecting to be shot down, Lewa is surprised when Narmoto confirms this with total certainty, promising this is exactly where Dweller is going. Narmoto himself knows the exact coordinates of this cursed land, the one that the Skull Raiders fled from all those centuries ago, and promises to Ekimu that as bad Yagavo is, he will never be the threat Makuta once was- Because right now, a far worse threat is looming in the horizon. The Shadowed One has a fragment of the Mask of Life… And if he does, it’s possible he’s looking for more, or worse, already has most –if not all- of them!

Shaking, a rattled Narmoto insists that defeating The Shadowed One is now Okoto’s top priority, that as bad as Yagavo is, The Shadowed One is even worse. Everyone calms down Narmoto as his ramblings become frantic, demanding to know how he knows all of this, recalling that his past with Dweller still hasn’t been elaborated upon.

With Narmoto confronted and in a corner in more ways than one, he hesitates… But nevertheless, he turns around, and tells the truth, or at least part of it;

Narmoto was from this cursed land, a native to it like Dweller. He was once a terrible, awful person- An irredeemable murderer, thief, and criminal like Dweller. He served alongside many other people like him in a group, a mercenary organization known as the Dark Hunters, of which The Shadowed One is the ancient founder and leader of.

Narmoto is from there, this island… the cursed land of Xia.

More questions come in, but Narmoto insists that Ekimu set to work making a craft that can transport everyone to Xia. Arguments rise up, becoming heated before it’s all finally settled and calmed down. Narmoto explains that while he was a Dark Hunter, something happened to him that made him question everything- And tired and disgusted of it all, he sought to leave Xia and find a better place. He had heard of Okoto from a Dark Hunter named Shadow Stealer, and wanting to be free of Xia’s corruption, he headed there in a canister.

When Narmoto arrived, he changed his name and arrived in Tawahi, claiming to have been the child of Okotans who tried to live beyond the Mega-Villages, only to be slain. Chilled, Tahu, Jaller, Takua, and Kapura remember this story well, their faith in Narmoto now terribly shattered as they regard him like a completely different person.

Narmoto assimilated himself into Tawahan culture, eventually becoming the Protector of Fire. He had been surprised and dismayed to hear of the Skull Spider threat upon arriving… But after seeing Okoto’s beautiful, lush wilderness, and the goodness of the people there, he became determined to fight on their behalf. Narmoto insists that THAT is not a lie- But it doesn’t matter. As far as Narmoto is concerned, he can be stripped of his Protector status and thrown into a prison cell for the rest of his life… He’d be fine with this, so long as the Okotan Alliance heeds his warnings, and goes after The Shadowed One.

For years, Narmoto had been paranoid, knowing of Dweller’s presence somewhere on Okoto. He never mentioned Xia or his true past, being ashamed of it, and terrified that if the Tawahans found out, then Dweller might consider them a liability as well, and… kill them.

Narmoto was scared that the Dark Hunters might one day track him to Okoto and get their revenge, and in the process hurt his loved ones in the crossfire.

Silent, everyone else considers Narmoto’s story… But nevertheless, they are rightfully angry, something Narmoto does not fault them for. Regardless, he insists to Ekimu, swearing on his life that The Shadowed One must be stopped at any and all costs- That whatever he has planned now regarding the Mask of Life’s fragment, it will undoubtedly be cataclysmic.

Ekimu, having witnessed firsthand the Great Cataclysm, agrees that The Shadowed One cannot be allowed to recreate the Mask of Life- Something he and Narmoto already suspect him of.

Of course, the Protectors point out that there is still the matter of Yagavo to deal with- They can’t leave all of Okoto defenseless, unless they plan to transport the entire population to Xia. Arguments and discussions are held, and finally a decision is held. A group of Okoto’s best warriors will head to Xia, to stop The Shadowed One and retrieve at least one fragment of the Mask of Life- With the Mask of Control, Ekimu can destroy this fragment completely. From there, the Okotan group will continue to investigate into The Shadowed One’s plans, and deduce if the destruction of the fragment will stop him; If so, they will return home and help with Yagavo once more.

The rest of Okoto, Ekimu included, will remain on the island to combat Yagavo and the Brotherhood of Makuta’s return. Narmoto is a bit dismayed that they aren’t going to bring an entire army, warning everyone that even without the Dark Hunters, Xia is a lawless, dangerous place. Many groups and dangers exist, all at each others’ throats, and people are constantly killed in the crossfire everyday.

Intimidated, the others reassure him that they’ve fought Skull Spiders, Skull Warriors, Rahkshi, Energy Leeches, and Elemental Beasts; Nobody is invincible, but they’re used to danger at this point. A guilty Narmoto, accepting his comrades’ faith in one another, is the first to volunteer, deciding that if anyone dies on the mission to Xia, it should be him.

The others are concerned about his mindset, but with mixed feelings, agree that this only makes sense. Eventually, a decision is held; The Toa and Protectors will go on this expedition, in order to assuage Narmoto’s concerns. In addition, they will be joined by the likes of Jaller, Takua, Hahli, Macku, Kopeke, Matoro, Kongu, Tamaru, Hewkii, Hafu, Nuparu, Onepu, and Taipu.

Obviously, some reservations are held, especially amongst the Toa, about abandoning Okoto. Ekimu reassures them that they’ve done their part in slaying Makuta; They’ve done so much for a world that they had no connections to, prior. Besides, Ekimu and the Okotan Alliance are stronger than ever, while the Brotherhood is only getting weaker. Ekimu reasons that they should trust Narmoto’s warnings- And if not those, then they can trust what Ekimu has to warn about the Mask of Life.

Any trace of that cursed, heretical creation must be wiped out from existence, just to be safe. Just one fragment should be sufficient, but just in case, if it can make their conscience sleep at night… Then maybe the Toa can help Ekimu find and destroy the remaining pieces.

           Emboldened, the Toa make plans to pack up. The Okotans are dismayed to hear that some of their best warriors are leaving, and shocked at the news of Xia and Narmoto’s past. Indeed, his fellow Protectors aren’t sure how to look at him anymore, and Lhii and Narmoto’s wife don’t know how to feel. Lhii begs Narmoto not to leave, and hesitating, Narmoto remembers why he left Xia, only to take on an entire swarm of Skull Spiders…

           He promises to return home alive, then. At that moment, Narmoto decides that while his guilt is real, his son and wife are actually tangible beings. They don’t deserve to lose a family member, at least not more than Narmoto deserves punishment and justice. Maybe he can atone in some other way… but for now, Narmoto makes the decision to come back alive, all while ensuring that The Shadowed One’s plans are ruined.

           Farewells are held, for the timebeing, as the lingering concern in the air remains palpable; That some may not return alive. Still, life has always been difficult, and those going on the Xian expedition have always been willing to die for Okoto. This sucks, but so has life until now. They may as well get this over with, right?

           Narmoto introduces Ekimu to the canister he used to arrive on Okoto all those years ago, hidden in the basement of his home. Analyzing its incredibly complex mechanisms, Ekimu notes that it’s more advanced than anything he’s seen Nuparu make, all while having nothing to do with Life energy. Even as Nuparu and her fellow Marn engineers obsess over the canister, fascinated, Narmoto notes that Xia is a technologically-advanced island. It has no deities nor Masks of Power- Thus, its technological progress developed in a completely different way.

           Working together with Marn engineers, Ekimu crafts a powerful vessel by reverse-engineering the canister’s schematics. Tapping into his power over Creation, he constructs a powerful aquatic vehicle, one capable of travelling across the brutal, devastating storms and hurricanes that surround the endless ocean. Upon considering a name for this new vessel, Ekimu is given a suggestion; Lhikan, the name of an old friend who had helped Narmoto change his life for the better…

           The Okotan expedition finishes packing up, making sure to keep it a secret from the Brotherhood of Makuta. Yagavo saw the Mask of Life fragment that Dweller had, giving everyone more reason to head to Xia, in case the Brotherhood wanted to retrieve it as well. Thankfully, the Brotherhood of Makuta has no presence on Xia, with Narmoto having never heard its name during his time there.

           The final farewells are held. Transmitting data between the canister and the Lhikan by incorporating the cylinder into the ship, Narmoto sets coordinates for Xia. The Lhikan, fully-automatic, lets its passengers board as they bid farewell; And then its hatches close down and shut tightly, as the powerful ship begins rocketing off into the endless oceans beyond Okoto.

           Elsewhere, Dweller hurries through the halls of a darkened fortress, finally arriving inside a throne room. A shadow is cast over him by the sole inhabitant of this throne room; The Shadowed One, an ancient, powerful warlord. Dweller reports that he has retrieved the final fragment of the Mask of Life, that all six are now on Xia; Now all the Dark Hunters need to do is find the remaining five. However…

           Dweller reports that he failed to kill Narmoto and the Toa, and now the Okotans are likely aware of Xia and the Dark Hunters. Dweller is certain that they’re heading to Xia at this very moment, planning to stop whatever The Shadowed One has planned. Dweller apologizes profusely for his failure, begging forgiveness, and The Shadowed One playfully contemplates a horrific punishment…

           But, he decides that enough hands have been severed today. Dweller is off the hook, for now, and will be instructed on a new mission. The Shadowed One takes the Mask fragment into his clawed-palm, identifying it as the Fragment of Jungle, and orders Dweller to send a message throughout the entire organization via telepathy. All across Xia, Dark Hunters hear The Shadowed One’s voice, as he tells them to prepare to make a nice, warm welcome for the heroes of Okoto…

[btswrckd]

Not Afraid Anymore

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You didn’t think Jungkook could you want you in any way other than friendship but it seems you were wrong.

Warnings: Idol au, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, poorly written smut

A/N: I’m not going to lie to you guys, I have no title (literally, it’s just the song I was listening to when I wrote it) and no real summary for this, but I found it sitting in my drafts and remembered that I had promised this long before I started working on Hunting a Hybrid. Also, it’s not going to stay this way, I have much bigger plans for this fic but I wanted to post it because I neglected it for so long. Hope you enjoy anyways!

P.S. If you’re curious about the song, it’s Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey for the Fifty Shades Darker soundtrack.

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

“It's too early for this.” You groaned while bundled up in Jin's hoodie and dropped your head to Taehyung's shoulder. “How do you guys constantly get up at the ass crack of dawn like this?”

“You learn to get used to it.” Taehyung kissed your temple and chuckled at the way you flailed your arms about in a small tantrum. “I told you to get some rest but no, you had to---.”

“Don't say it.” You warned and pinched his arm. “Why do I always have to remind you guys to be careful with what you say when we're in public?” 

“Taehyung, behave,” Jin strode up to the two of you, leaning down to brush a kiss to your forehead. “Y/N's right. We're around all kinds of people everyday and we never know who’s recording what. Not everyone will understand our relationship. We’re lucky the team we have now tolerates our actions.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Taehyung bowed his head in apology before being called away for his change of clothes. 

You let out a long sigh and sank into the cushions of the couch. Watching the multitude of people swarm around the room, you always wondered how the 7 men got used to the bumbling and bustling.

“Remind me again why I agreed to be part of this music video.” You asked Jisoo, the longest makeup artist to stick with the company and your best friend when she held up a black bag. 

“Because you love the guys.” She giggled as you took the bag from her. “And because their management team has something pretty juicy up their sleeves for this comeback. Can you imagine all the theories the fans will come up with?”

“You mean can I imagine all the fans finally figuring out I'm sleeping with 6 members of Bangtan and then roasting me alive? Yes, yes I can.” 

“Oh my god,” Jisoo rolled her eyes and pushed you in the direction of the dressing room. “You're being dramatic. The guys would never let that happen to you and the fans will be knee deep in wondering why BigHit put out a music video with a more adult theme than the guys have ever had. So the fans pick up on something going on between you and the guys, that's what good actors do.”

“And the trophy for number one fan of Bangtan goes to...” You snorted as she shoved you for teasing her and you fell into a solid chest.

“Ah, noona, are you okay?”

You blinked up at Jungkook and somehow lost the ability to speak. His large hands clasping your hips tight and keeping you steady left you a stuttering mess. Jungkook had been the only member to never sleep with you, never even try to sleep with you. You couldn't say you weren't a little offended, but you also knew it was quite selfish of you to want him in that way when he had no interest in you. 

“Kook.” You blushed at his fingers dipping underneath your shirt to keep a firm grip on you. Your hands curled into the fabric of the leather jacket he had just changed in to. “Um, hi.”

“Hi, noona,” He shook his head, his lips curling up into a teasing smile. He really did love to get a rise out of you, it was easily his favorite way to pass the time. He tilted his head to the side, a seemingly innocent gesture to anyone not frequently hovering around him.

To you it was his way of making you feel like a child when you would sputter and huff out a frustrated breath at not being able to string together an intelligent sentence. Truthfully, you wondered how Namjoon put up with you most of the time. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook repeated, breaking you from your thoughts. “Did you not sleep well? You were up pretty late.”

“Jeon Jungkook!” You hissed and stepped out of his hold. You weren't too sure why you were embarrassed at having been heard by him the previous night. Maybe it was because when he was in the house, you did your best not to disturb him when you were being intimate with another member. 

But he was home last night, he heard everything, and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“Can you please go get dressed?” Jisoo ushered you away and into a nearby dressing room. “We're running behind schedule.”

Jungkook watched you go, letting his eyes drop to the sway of your hips. Of course he wanted to be with you. He'd have to be an idiot not to. But there was a lingering fear that he wouldn't be enough for you. He was the youngest member and while he was by no means a virgin, he wasn't as experienced as his elders. 

“Could you be anymore obvious?” Jisoo’s voice had him jumping, not having realized she was still standing next to him. 

“You scared the life out of me.” He put his hand to his racing heart and sighed while she laughed and patted his back. “What are you talking about? Obvious about what?”

“You like Y/N,” She clarified as she tugged on his sleeve to bring him to her makeup station, sitting him in her chair to touch up his hair. “Don’t deny it, Jeon Jungkook, it’s written all over your face. Why don’t you tell her?”

“Because what if I’m not good enough.” Jungkook mumbled. “My hyungs are more...experienced. I wouldn't want to disappoint her.”

She rolled her eyes and swept some hair from his face, “You've seen her drool over you. I very highly doubt you'll disappoint her.”

Just as he was about to speak, you emerged from the room Jisoo had ushered you into and his breath hitched at the sight of you; Jisoo had picked out a gorgeous black dress that left little to the imagination. He watched you tug at the hem as if that was going to make it grow longer. 

“Oh my god, you look amazing!” Jisoo squealed, running over to you and hauling into a chair next to Jungkook. “I told you a lace bodice would look good on you miss 'it's gonna be too tight'.” She turned to Jungkook with a smirk as he took a sudden interest in his own reflection. “It looks good, right Jungkook?”

“Mmhmm, yeah, looks great.” He scratched at the back of his neck and let out an awkward cough. 

You slumped in your chair, any hopes of getting a compliment out of him long gone. Crossing your knees, you grumbled at having to repeatedly pull on the end of your dress to keep it from riding up your thighs. You hated dresses, they were a pain and the way the lace clung to your frame was not appreciated. You could barely move in the material. How the hell were you supposed to get through the choreography? 

You wiggled around in your chair as Jisoo tried her best to keep you in place to apply your makeup. The foundation felt heavy on your skin even when she swore it was only a thin layer, teasing you for trying to swat her hand away as she brought a shade of red lipstick to your mouth.

“Honestly, if you're not going to hold still then I'm going to tie you down.” She nudged your shoulder, whispering in your ear, “And I'll get Jungkook to help.”

A blush crept up your collarbone and cheeks, resembling a tomato as she laughed and stalked off to find a curling iron. It was official, you hated your best friend. 

A sudden weight on your knees caught your attention and you glanced at your lap to find Jungkook's leather jacket draped over your legs. You looked up in time to find his face right in front of yours, his eyes boring into yours and you swore he could hear the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Kook?” Your breathed fanned across his face and he smiled at you, his bunny teeth breaking through and you squeezed your thighs together as an unexpected pang of arousal shot through you. You were mortified as he raised a brow, having noticed the action.

“You seem uncomfortable in your dress, noona.” He observed. “Doesn't Jisoo have another one picked out just in case?”

“I uh,” You toyed with the leather of his jacket and focused on the mirror behind him. Which was clearly a mistake as you saw the muscles of his back flex beneath his dress shirt. “Th-This one is fine. I mean I can't really move as freely as when I'm in sweatpants, but…”

“You look really gorgeous,” Jungkook backed away when Jisoo approached your chair, curling iron in one hand and a hair brush in the other. 

“I've been waiting forever to finally get ahold of you long enough to curl your hair,” She pulled the elastic band from your ponytail and began brushing it out. She eyed Jungkook after seeing his jacket on your knees, “Did you get cold or something?”

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

It took a good 20 minutes for Jisoo to release your final curl from the iron, hairspray following soon after. She grinned and fluffed your curls with excitement. 

“You look so good!” She squealed, shaking your shoulders and you laughed at her enthusiasm. “Oh, we have some other backup dresses in the next room if you want to take a look. I know that one must feel a little short.”

“Thank you!” You stood from her chair and stretched your hands above your head, hearing your back pop in the process and you let out a satisfied moan. Forgoing the heels picked out for you, you stepped into a pair of slippers and made your way to the room next door.

The most expensive of dresses lined a clothing rack right next to the boys’ outfits. A beautiful ballet halter dress caught your eye, the white starting at the neckline flowing down into an aqua blue color as it reached your calves. Taking it off the rack and stripping from the current dress you had on, you pulled on a pair of spandex shorts before slipping the new dress over your head. The material flared out more and more after it reached your hips, giving you a lot more room to work with and you smiled. 

Hearing the click of the door behind you had you spinning around to face whoever walked in. A small laugh made its way out of your mouth at Jungkook admiring the new dress. “Hey. You scared me, Kookie.”

“Sorry, noona,” He chuckled and let his eyes roam your face, jaw clenching when you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “I um, was coming to see if you were okay. You didn’t look comfortable in Jisoo-noona’s chair earlier.”

“I’m okay,” You nodded, grabbing the material of your dress and swaying the material to show how easy it was to move in. “Much better actually. Did you see how tight that other one was? I love Jisoo’s sense of style but I like this one a lot more.”

“Of course,” Jungkook gave you a warm smile and took the time to scan you from head to toe while you were preoccupied with looking through the duffel bag you’d brought with you.

You were intent on finding your jazz flats; heels weren’t going to be much help in the type of choreography Hoseok had taught you in the last few weeks. Finally finding your split-soles, you gestured for Jungkook to come closer and he obeyed silently, debating on whether or not it was a good idea to be close to you when he was already half hard from your earlier dress.

He stood tall next to you, watching as you clamped a hand on his shoulder to keep your balance as you slipped the shoes on. His mouth parted in awe as you tested them for flexibility, bouncing from one foot to the other, stretching your leg as far back behind you as you could, and standing on the tips of your toes as if to break the shoes in some more. He always marveled at your dance skills that easily rivaled or sometimes even dominated Hoseok’s.

“What do you think, Jungkookie?” You managed to snap him from his thoughts, blushing when his dark eyes ventured from your breasts to your face. “Does it...look okay?”

“You’re beautiful as always. There’s not a day you look anything but, noona.” His eyes focused on the small blotch of lipstick staining your chin.

“Oh, um, you’ve got…” Jungkook gestured to the side of his mouth, smiling when you wiped away at your own face but missing the small stain.

“No, here,” He stepped close and lifted his hand to skim his fingers across your face. “How is it that you managed to smudge your lipstick right after Jisoo applied it?”

“Ah, you know I fuss a lot when she does my makeup.” You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and turned away from his gaze, leaning against the empty table behind you. “The stylists are going to kill you for barging in on me, you know? You should head back out there. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Jungkook didn’t move for a solid minute before deciding ‘fuck it’ and pressed his hips to yours, crowding you and planting both palms on either side of your body to keep you in place. “I’ll just tell them I came to check on you. Since your face was all red back there.”

“Right.” You attempted to sound as normal as possible, but you knew that was a lost cause when he chuckled and used one hand to brush the hair from your face. “I just, um---.”

“Why do you always blush around me, noona?” Jungkook leaned close to plant a soft kiss to your cheek, your body stiffening at the sudden act of affection. If it weren't for all the times he'd caught you staring at his every move when you thought you were being subtle, he would have backed away. Panic would have washed over him and he'd try to play it off as his awkward attempt at joking if he didn't know you inside and out. “Do you still see me as just a kid?”

“What? O-Of course not, Jungkook. I---.”

“Then can I kiss you?” He was closer than before now, his nose and lips brushing against your own and you found yourself chasing after his almost kiss when he pulled back. “Please?”

You could only nod wordlessly, your knees buckling at the first press of his lips and he had to wrap one arm around your waist to keep you from falling. One of your hands came off the table to press against his chest while the other slid its way up to tangle in his hair. 

Your lips were soft and warm as they moved in sync with his, the smallest of moans miffed by the sudden prodding of his tongue. He coaxed your mouth open with small licks and nips of his teeth on your bottom lip. 

“Kook,” You broke away from him as breathing was soon becoming a problem. His mouth instead moving down your jaw to decorate the expanse of your neck in purple bruises. “You know Jisoo's going to kill you for marking me up.” 

“Jisoo's not as scary as she likes to think.” Jungkook reached down to cup the back of your thighs and lift you onto the table, burying his face into your neck and inching his fingers up higher until they met the hem of your spandex shorts. 

“Jungkook,” You breathed against his ear before he pulled back to peel the material down to pool at his feet, “are you sure? You know your hyungs and I never pushed---ah!”

His thumbed pushed past the lace of your panties and thrummed against your clit before he slipped a finger past your wet folds, slowly adding another. “I know. I know you did your best to make me comfortable, noona. Your relationship with my brothers was always your business. But, fuck, I can't help it anymore. You're so gorgeous, noona, and you sound so pretty when you moan. Won't you make those sounds for me too?”

You gasped, looping your arms around his neck and tugging on his hair. Your legs crossed behind his back and you rocked your hips up to meet the thrusting of his fingers. “God, Jungkook.”

“Just like that, baby.” Jungkook groaned at your juices coating his fingers while his other hand worked on undoing his belt.  

You pulled back to untuck his shirt from his pants, undoing the buttons quickly. “This isn't how I'd imagined being with you for the first time.”

“I know, noona,” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it while your hands worked at the zipper of his jeans. “I promise we have plenty of time to go slow later. I just need to be inside you right now.”

“Mmm I don't know, Kookie,” You slipped your hand into his boxers, running your fingers along the length of his cock. Your mouth went dry at how thick he was, your forefinger having trouble touching your thumb. “Do you deserve it? You did make me wait all this time, after all. Maybe I should make you wait until we get back to the dorms.”

A growl made its way up Jungkook's throat as he hit a particular spot inside of you, making you arch your back. “That's not a game you want to play with me, sweetheart.” 

“Ah, Jungkookie,” You giggled and pumped your hand slowly, your thumb coming around to swipe at the precum pooling on the head of his cock. You smirked as his head fell forward to your shoulder and his hips rocked into your touch, thrusting into your hand while your grip tightened slightly. “I think I’d win that game pretty easily.”

He moaned at the feel of your lips against his neck, sucking pretty bruises into his skin and his fingers curled inside of you, a small whimper leaving you. He knew you wanted to be able to control the situation, and any other day he would gladly let you if time was something to be spared. Today though, you were all on a schedule and were already running late, he didn’t want anyone barging into the room in search of you.

Jungkook pulled his fingers away and lifted you up, turning and sitting on the table while pulling you onto his lap. Bunching your dress up and gathering both of your wrists in one hand, he pulled your chest flush against his. 

“We've both waited long enough, noona,” He used his free hand to pull his cock free from his jeans, using the head to run along your folds and coat himself in your juices. Pushing your panties to the side, he felt your thighs tremble before sheathing himself fully inside. 

“Fuck!” You whimpered and dropped your head to his shoulder. His size took much more time adjusting to than the 6 other members. “W-why...how are you so...big?”

He gripped your hips roughly and rocked you back and forth on his lap. Your breath hitched with every movement, feeling the sweet drag of his cock against your walls. “All those nights I had to listen to you and my brothers,” he bucked his hips up to meet your thrusts, “all this time I had to listen to you beg for them to touch you. How do you think I felt?”

You turned your head to brush your lips against his neck and listened to the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin. Chewing on your bottom lip, you tried your best to conceal your moans but it was proving to be difficult with the way he slammed into you. “You know I wanted you too, Kookie. You know how much I wanted you to touch me too.”

“Yeah? How bad did you want me, Y/N?” Jungkook cupped the back of your head and pulled your mouth up to his. “Did you think of me when you were with my brothers? Like last night when Jimin-hyung fucked you in the shower?” 

“Y-Yes,” You admitted because their shared bathroom was right next to Jungkook's room and you knew he could hear everything so there was no sense in denying it. “I w-wanted you to hear.”

“Oh? Why is that?” He planted his feet firmly, grinding up into you as hard as he could, almost like punishment. “Does hyung know I was on your mind when he had you on your knees for him?”

“Yes!” You cried out at a particularly harsh thrust, hissing when his fingernails dug into the skin of your neck, your knees burning red from rubbing against the plastic table, “Yes, Jimin knew. It wa-was his idea. Said he wanted you to kn-know what you were missing. Fuck, Kook!”

“You want to cum, baby?” He felt your walls clench around him, making a mental note to kill Jimin later. The sudden ringing of his phone didn't phase him as he let go of your neck and dug into his pocket, answering with a growl. “Hyung?”

“Where the hell are you?” Namjoon asked through grit teeth. “And where is Y/N? Jisoo is looking for her and let me tell you---.”

Namjoon's rant was cut off by Jungkook's groan and your accompanying moan. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he had to scan the room to make sure no one was too close to overhear him. “Are you guys…? Jeon Jungkook, you better not have hauled her off for some quickie right before we're about to shoot.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook let out a breathless chuckle and dropped his head back as you rolled your hips, lifting yourself up and dropping back down at an achingly slow pace. “She just looked so good, hyung. So pretty and the way she clenched her thighs together when I got near her...ugh, fuck, she feels so good.”

“Yeah, only took you long enough.” Namjoon snorted and tried to discreetly adjust himself. He always did get off to the sounds of you and one of his members. “Maybe here and now of all places wasn't the best timing. Are you even listening?!”

“No,” Jungkook moved his free hand down to rub circles on your clit, not even bothering to lie. “Are you close, baby? You look so beautiful when you cum and it's going to be all for me, right pet?”

Namjoon took in a deep breath and tried to focus on something other than your whines and instead hearing the rustling of fabric. “You better not be messing up her dress, Kook, you hear me?”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady, grinding his hips up and hissing as you dug your nails into his shoulders. “Don't worry, hyung, I'm not going to dirty her dress. Our little pet is going to let me cum inside, right baby?”

You nodded as a choked sob left your mouth, clinging to his shoulders and combing your fingers through his hair. 

“Use your words.” Jungkook demanded with grit teeth and moved his free hand up to your back, splaying his fingers between your shoulder blades. “Where am I gonna cum, baby? Say it. Say it loud enough for Namjoon-hyung to hear.”

“Inside, Jungkook, pl-please cum inside me.” You were breathless and struggling to form coherent sentences but years of sleeping with someone as dominant as his older brothers taught you that when they ask, you answer. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon groaned from his side of the phone. “You better be careful, Jungkook, I'm not kidding. None of us have ever...we always wear condoms.”

“She's been a good girl, hyung,” Jungkook panted and felt your walls clench around him once more, a curse falling from his lips. “She's been taking her birth control pills.”

“Ah, Jungkook!” You cried when he pulled you close and bit down on the skin of your neck, decorating it in purple. 

“She knows how much I've wanted to be inside her like this, right sweetheart? Tell hyung how much you want it.”

You whimpered as he put the phone to your ear and you heard Namjoon's ragged breathing. “Yes! Yes, I want it. Please, Joon, please can I have it?”

“Goddamnit,” Namjoon cursed and had to turn away from the crowd of stylists surrounding him to put the finishing touches on his face and hair. “Yes, princess, you can have it. Take all of Kookie's cum like a good girl.”

Dropping his phone to the floor, Jungkook shot up from the table to press you flat against it and he pushed your legs up to your chest while his cock sank deeper, hitting that spot that had you keening.

Your own hand came up to clamp over your mouth in hopes of muddling the cries that accompanied his harsh thrusts, the coil that formed long ago in the pit of your belly finally snapping and your back arched up with the intensity of your orgasm. 

“Shit,” He leaned his forehead against yours where your lips met in a kiss made of nothing but teeth and tongue. The small press of your fingers against his abdomen had him slowing his hips until he was simply fit snug inside of your cunt. “Please, noona, just a little more.”

“I just…” You whimpered as he shifted his weight impatiently, “I need a second, Kook.”

Jungkook nodded, little droplets of sweat dripping onto your cheek as he peppered your neck and collar bone with kisses and little nips of his teeth. He felt your hands ghosting across his chest as if familiarizing yourself with every muscle, his body shuddering when one hand snuck its way underneath his shirt and your nails dug into his skin. Your fingers caressed up the length of his neck, to his jaw, and then to his cheek where he turned and kissed the palm of your hand lovingly. 

Propping yourself up on one elbow forced Jungkook to give you some space and let your legs dangle on either side of his. You were too lost in the way his eyes held yours to notice when he gave an experimental thrust. Then two, then three and before you knew it, he had set another pace that had your toes curling. 

“You can give me one more, can't you noona?” Jungkook straightened his back and hitched your thigh over his hip to give him a different angle, his pace relentless. “You'll be a good girl and cum again for me, won't you?”

“Shit, shit, shit!” You chanted as another orgasm washed over you, triggering his own and he painted your walls white with ropes of cum. Feeling his fingers grip your chin, his lips were on yours to muffle his groans while he rocked against you gently.

Your heavy breathing and his filled the room as he rode out his orgasm, your chest rising and falling heavily and you let out a small laugh, “Kookie, the stylists are going to kill you.”

“Mmm,” He scrunched his nose up in a smile, “then I'd die happy.”

“You're a brat.” You teased and slapped his shoulder, pushing him away gently, a mix of your juices and his trickling down your thigh. 

He snorted and reached under your dress to collect it and used two fingers to push his cum back inside your sensitive folds. “This stays in you, Y/N. Not a drop spills or Namjoon-hyung will punish you.”

You nodded with a blush dusting across your cheeks and readjusted your dress to look as presentable as possible. 

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and knew he was going to catch hell for messing up the clothes that had been laid out for the both of you. He tucked his now soft cock back into his pants and cupped your face to leave a small peck on your lips. “I love you, noona.”

Your stomach flipped, butterflies fluttering like you were a teenager again and hearing those words for the first time ever. “I love you too, Jungkookie.”  

He pulled back to let you stand and smooth down your dress before he took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together to guide you back to the awaiting crew.

“Everyone's staring.” You mumbled as you stepped out of the dressing room and immediately caught the attention of the 6 other boys. 

“What the hell?!” Jisoo seethed and stormed up to the two of you, poking Jungkook in the chest. “Have you lost your mind, Jeon Jungkook? Do you know how long it took me to do her makeup and now I have to cover up more hickies? Your hyungs are bad enough.”

Jungkook ducked his head in apology and let her take you back to her makeup chair. He stalked over to his seniors and blushed when Namjoon clapped him on the back. 

“What's gotten into you?” Namjoon chuckled while Hoseok pinched his cheek. “You know you didn't even hang up the damn phone. Jimin's ready to burst.”

“Hyung,” Jimin pouted and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans in attempt to hide his arousal.

“Our Jungkookie's becoming a man, Namjoon.” Hoseok cooed as Jungkook slapped his hands away.

“Pet,” Namjoon repeated in a teasing tone, “sweetheart, baby. Someone's been listening in on us.”

“Well the walls aren't exactly soundproof!” Jungkook looked away from his seniors as another makeup artist approached them, using a makeup wipe to clean his neck and face, ridding him of the red lipstick stains.

“Our little Kookie's finally grown up.” Taehyung put a hand to his chest and wiped away an invisible tear. “We're so proud.”

“Stop it,” You warned, approaching them with a fresh coat of lipstick and the hickies nowhere to be found thanks to Jisoo.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Namjoon took you in his embrace and kissed the top of your head.

“Sore.” You whispered in hopes of not embarrassing Jungkook more. “The hell have you guys been teaching him?”

“He learned all that on his own.” Namjoon smirked down at you. “It was pretty hot though.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” You pushed away from him and crossed your arms. “Can you be any more embarrassing?”

“Oh Jungkook! Oh Kookie! Please can I have it?! I want it!” Namjoon mocked and laughed as your jaw fell in horror before your fist reared back and came forward to connect with his stomach. He doubled over in pain as his other members laughed and Jungkook tried to sink in on himself to disappear.

“You know what? Just for that,” You huffed and glanced around to see if anyone was listening, “Kookie's the only one who can touch me for the next week.”

“What?!” The 6 other members gaped at you.

“Why am I being punished?!” Taehyung whined. “I didn't even do anything!”

You crooked your finger at Jungkook and wrapped your arms around his neck when he got close enough. You smiled as his bunny teeth broke through his grin and you really wanted to give him another kiss but one look from Jisoo had you pouting and stepping away before you got into any more trouble.

3 Days Later:

You didn't remember how you ended up flat on your back on the kitchen counter with Jungkook buried balls deep inside you but you were pretty sure it was his intention to be so just as his older brothers walked through the door. 

Yoongi was the first to spot you two, stopping dead in his tracks and barely budging as each member behind him ran into his back. His pupils blowing out at the sight of your naked body clinging to Jungkook's like your life depended on it and your breasts bouncing against the maknae's chest with each harsh thrust. 

His hands curled into fists, his blunt nails digging into the skin as a way to keep himself from hauling you off. They were being punished for teasing Jungkook and now they all had to watch Jungkook's lips suck at your skin greedily and your fingers tugging on his hair. 

Yoongi figured that you used this time to familiarize yourself with Jungkook's likes and dislikes, and to your surprise and his seniors, you quickly learned that Jungkook was not a fan of condoms. He was the first of the members to fuck you without one and you both knew that it meant Taehyung probably gathered every condom in the house and threw them out.

“Kookie,” You gasped out as your other hand brushed down his back, your nails biting into his skin. You heard the sounds of the keypad and tapped Jungkook's shoulder to try and get his attention but it was useless as his mouth worked at your neck. It was when Namjoon rounded the corner to catch your eye that you braced your hands against Jungkook's chest to push him away. 

“No, no, princess,” Namjoon's firm command didn't deter Jungkook, who instead wound his arm beneath your knee. “It's okay, baby, let Jungkookie make you feel good.”

You could have cried if it felt any better. Jungkook was long and thick, leaving you to wonder how the hell he could wear such tight pants. “Fuck!”

Jungkook grunted in agreement as he buried himself to the hilt, making you come undone. His lips moved lower to your chest to feather kisses along your heaving breasts. You were both sweaty and spent but he really had no care in the world as he took his time coaxing you to relax with small brushes of his lips.

“You look tired, baby,” Namjoon frowned and reached over to push your sweat soaked hair from your face. “Jungkookie, did you make sure your noona was alright?”

Jungkook only nodded while trying to catch his breath, decorating your chest in love bites and glancing up at his senior.

“Are you still hard, Kook?” Namjoon shot him a glare. Of course the little devil would time it just right so his brothers could catch a glimpse of what they were missing.

“Yes,” Jungkook panted into your bruising skin, “But I'm okay noona, I don't have to---.”

“Kookie, relax,” You soothed him with a soft kiss, “it's okay.”

“Ah, but you're tired and I---.”

“Need a cold shower.” Taehyung piped up from the living room and Jungkook blushed a deep shade of red.

You smiled gently at him, running your hands down his chest and admiring his tanned skin. “I'm okay, Jungkook. Keep going. Please.”

“Can you even still handle it, baby?,” Hoseok was suddenly next to Namjoon, Yoongi not far behind. “You look exhausted. Jungkook-ah, how long have you…?”

“Since you left.” You hummed as if you hadn't been out of breath a moment ago. 

“What?” Yoongi blanched, trying to decide if he should be impressed with Jungkook’s stamina or pissed that there was still a whole 4 days left before he could get his hands on you. 

“That's the appeal of a younger man, hyung,” Jungkook teased, rolling his hips gently and hoping he wasn’t overstimulating you.

“Yah, you little brat!” Yoongi lunged for the maknae but was held back by Hoseok wrapping his arms around Yoongi's shoulders. “I could kill you right here, kid!” 

“Okay, we're just gonna,” Hoseok struggled to pull Yoongi to the front door, nodding his head for the rest to follow, “take a walk.”

Namjoon patted Jungkook's shoulder with a smile, “He's going to murder you when we get back.”

Jungkook buried his face into the crook of your neck to hide his smile while you giggled at Yoongi’s outburst, knowing full well that he couldn’t stay mad at you. He felt your soft kisses against his temple to coax him into looking back at your face to kiss him properly, your fingers pulling at his black locks. Your other hand skimmed up his shoulder to join the already tangled fingers in his hair, tugging to expose the column of his throat and he moaned as your lips travelled to his jaw line then lower. 

Teeth sinking into his soft skin ever so gently, you gasped when his hips rocked into yours to start a wonderfully quick pace before you guys had been interrupted. You could hear the small grunts of effort whispered against the shell of your ear and you dropped back against the counter to admire the way his jaw clenched and the veins pop out against his neck. 

With your head lolling from side to side, Jungkook sped up his thrusts and nearly smirked at the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head but your fourth orgasm of the night triggered his own, hips colliding with yours once more before filling you to the brim with his cum. 

“Holy shit,” You breathed and reached up to run your fingers through your hair, “you’re so much work, Kookie.”

“Hey,” Jungkook whined and tried his best to keep from collapsing onto you, “I’m the one that did all the extra work this time.”

“Oh? And earlier when you made me ride you in your gaming chair wasn’t extra work?” You pinched his cheek, biting your bottom lip as he pulled out, your juices leaking along the insides of your thighs. Your legs felt like jelly and you were almost embarrassed to admit you couldn’t even stand because the last thing you needed was to stroke his already too big ego.

“Come on, noona,” He chuckled and tucked his arms underneath your limp body to carry you to the bathroom where he gently sat you in the tub and ran a warm bath for the both of you. He slid into the ceramic tub behind you, pulling your back flush against his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder. He felt you hum in content and brought his hands up to twine his fingers with yours, placing a small kiss to the back of your head. “I love you, noona, you know that right?”

“Of course,” You frowned and turned your head to look at him, searching his features for any sign of doubt. “I love you too.”

“Good because Yoongi hyung is gonna kill me when he gets back and I needed to hear that.”

[gwinny5k]

My theory is that Valery doesn’t wear undies when he stays in Chernobyl.

I think you are 100% correct, really, honestly, look at him. He’s too distracted and just utterly unfussy about how he looks, and … isn’t bothered by the constant bouncing? Easy access anyway :p

Would you like a random ficlet that contains the underwear headcanon? it might also invite us to consider what people wear! and why! sort of.

valoris/explicit-ish

thanks to @hereliesnils for the proofread

You wore your nice suit for the boys from the IAEA, Valery said over his shoulder as Boris washed his hands, and Boris told him he could look less like a garbage collector, particularly in front of visitors, and Valery, smarting from the whip, indicated with a stammering rejoinder that this wasn’t Paris, and it wasn’t fashion week, to which Boris replied the suit was Italian, not French, and Valery took this as the fuck-off it was and reminded him that the suit was as good as ruined, because dry cleaning wasn’t part of any decontamination protocol. And Boris, who enjoyed winding him up on very rare occasions, such as when the relief of being alone was outweighing the gravity of the catastrofuck outside, said, if it’s contaminated, we’ll have to get me out of it as quickly as possible, won’t we?

That redirected the course of Valery’s anger right into confused, chin-hanging arousal, and Boris raised his eyebrows at him in the bathroom mirror. 

The site visit had gone off fine: they probably hadn’t seen the satellite installation a few clicks southwest, and if they had, they had been polite enough not to mention it, and probably none of them were Langley spooks or Circus acrobats, or whatever they called themselves - and if they were, the KGB would have a good rifle through their pockets and keep them away from the phones.

Playing host had been the easy part (here is our giant pile of shit - I understand you’re professionally interested in giant piles of shit?), the helicopter ride was nothing much, and swipe though Boris might at Valery’s sartorial choices, Boris had to admit that Valery impressed people, in his odd way: most people, when weighing Valery up as either an eccentric genius or a mad tramp, decided that anyone who went around looking like that must be something special indeed. And Valery lived the part, wandering around with answers spilling out in long pearly strings of philosophical physics. 

He had stuck to the line, mostly.

So, a success. Still, the relief of seeing their bumpers bounce away had put Boris in a lightened and sovereign mood, like when the distant in-laws motor off after a fortnight’s occupation of the fold-out, and he broke into a grin as he left the washroom. 

“May I?” Valery asked. 

Boris gestured at himself with a flourish, presenting the suit and his body to Valery. 

Valery unbuttoned Boris’s jacket in one long unbroken drag down his chest, knuckles firmly planted against his sternum, his solar plexus. He gave more pressure as he inched them down Boris’s stomach, and when he reached the last button, he smoothed past Boris’s waistband, below his belt, accentuating the interest Boris’s dick was already taking in the proceedings. Didn’t quite touch him, just ironed either side, in twin strokes that ended at the crease of his thighs. 

Boris released a growl as low and slow as Valery’s hands were moving to grasp at Boris’s hips. Were they playing footsie?

“C’mere,” Boris said, and yanked Valery full-body against him, so the strangely vulnerable hardness of his erection was dug into the pit of Valery’s stomach. Valery giggled like a schoolboy when he felt it, and he grasped Boris tighter, twisting them a little where they stood. 

Two wolves fought inside Boris, etc etc. Boris wanted that affection more than he wanted anything - almost anything - else, he wanted to feel Valery’s laughter traveling through him on bristling, singing nerves. He wanted to love Valery. And he wanted to bite him. 

He dragged Valery’s chin up to his own mouth, angled Valery’s head with fingers digging into the base of his skull, and pressed a kiss. Valery laughed again, under his mouth, because Boris had used his teeth on his lower lip, but it was deeper in his chest this time. 

Valery tugged at Boris’s shirt between them, and frowned in confusion. He tugged again, a little harder this time, and Boris’s palm slipped off the back of his neck to smack at his hand between them. 

“Stays,” Boris explained.

“Stays… on?” Valery asked, confused.

Boris’s impatience was the grip of his other hand on the bulge in Valery’s trousers. “I’m wearing -” he said against Valery’s jaw, and then leaned back. Kissing Valery was a lost cause when the professor was thinking; his face was prone to sudden paroxysms, his head tended to swivel and jerk with every accreting flash of intuition - it was a good way to gamble a few teeth. Instead of explaining, he started shrugging off his jacket. 

Valery moved to help him. Jacket off, and a moment again of utter distraction - the suspenders. The way they made his chest a triptych of obscene thoughts, licking nipples until Boris came, or opening his shirt buttons just enough to tongue on the orbit of Boris’s navel until he was desperate and leaking and making undone sounds besides. Valery slipped his fingertip between the stretchy elastic and the hard plane of Boris’s chest beneath. He twisted his finger under the elastic, warmed by Boris’s body, and thought very briefly of something else. Then he hooked and shifted the strap, and Boris ducked his shoulder to slip it off.

Boris pulled him close again and plunged his hands into Valery’s strange and rumpled waistband, pulled his shirttails out in two handfuls, and got his hands up under the warm cotton to touch his furry stomach, his soft sides, poke rough fingertips between his ribs. Valery’s diaphragm jumped and his belly twitched at Boris’s fingernails; he ground against Boris’s hand when it returned to the crux of his legs and could have exploded when Boris’s lips, thin and soft, took hold of his earlobe. 

Valery hauled Boris’s other suspender aside clumsily; hard to do with a big man licking out your ear and fondling your balls. His hands scrabbled for the two suspenders hanging like loose reins from Boris’s waist, used them to pull Boris tighter, a little to the left, and get his thigh planted solidly between Valery’s legs for adolescent, rutting friction. Boris pushed him off like a bastard, just as Valery reached that plateau of completely heavy and hard and buzzing.

Valery’s brain skidded again, as Boris stepped out of the trousers and flung them toward some furniture, somewhere, that didn’t count as the floor. (Pride forbid.) Valery boggled at Boris in his shirt, his underpants, and … a frankly baffling system of straps and cords and pulleys. It was like looking at a suddenly naked puppet. Valery laughed. 

“Boris, what is all that.” He tried to hide his smirk with the edge of his hand as he traced the straps, clipped primly to Boris’s white dress shirt, as they ran down the outside of his legs all the way to his socked feet, where they were looped around like stirrups. 

Boris regarded him regally. “Shirt stays. They keep your shirt tucked in.”

“And the -” A gesture, lower, to whatever was going on below Boris’s knees.

“Sock garters. They keep your socks up.” Boris turned one heel against the floor, showing the leather wrapped high on his calves, clipped to his black socks. “Some of us have to dress the part, if we want to be taken seriously.”

“Okay,” Valery agreed, aware that the time was fast approaching when he, Valery, would have to reveal that in his haste this (okay, every) morning, he hadn’t put on any underwear. It had been only sturdy Soviet seamstress engineering keeping him from springing forth fully-formed and sodomizing Boris with Zeusian rapacity. (Valery is blurring a few aspects of myth together here, forgive him, the blood’s all gone elsewhere.)

Somehow, the awkward straps were the most tragically, anxiously geriatric thing Valery had ever seen. Imagine being that worried about your socks.  

Boris turned and strode to the bed as if he didn’t look like a crash test dummy filling in for a man. Valery watched him with another smile. The insistence between his thighs had cooled off a little - this was too much fun. He followed, still smirking, and sank to his knees in front of Boris, who lounged back on the bed. 

“Go on, then,” Boris said, almost bashing Valery’s nose as he thrust his leg in Valery’s face. 

Valery took hold of his skinny calf and examined the garter cinched around his leg. He thought about chewing the stupid thing off, and then thought about the bill Boris would send him, one way or another. He kissed the spot between Boris’s kneecap and the garter, and another on the inside of his knee for good measure. He slid the stirrup of the shirt stay around Boris’s left foot and yelped as it struck him like a snakebite, suddenly freed of tension. Boris snorted as Valery recoiled.   

Valery shoved it away, ignoring the searing welt on his bare forearm, and worked the clasps on the hem of Boris’s shirt. Once the teeth were loose, he gave Boris a fond little stroke through his briefs, and moved to the other side. He was ready for the snap this time, and let the stay sneak down Boris’s leg slowly, trapped in his palm, from hip to wiry-haired thigh to slim ankle. 

“Do you have a corset on under the shirt, too?” Valery asked. “How do you expect to tryst on a schedule while wearing all this?”

“Get on with it,” Boris said. 

Valery dragged off the second stay and turned his attention to the garters. Unclip, unclip, unclip, how many fucking clips were there, pulled Boris’s socks off, and thought about shoving them in Boris’s mouth when Boris said “Don’t ball them up.” 

He draped them on the carpet and stood up. He stood on the toe of one of his own socks, dragged it off his foot by raising his leg, same maneuver for the other foot. He pulled his white shirt over his head, undid his fly, and unceremoniously dropped his trousers. 

Boris blinked at him, suddenly naked as the day he was born, no fuss. “You’re not wearing underwear.” Vague accusation.

“Stop complaining,” Valery said. “And get yours off.”

Boris dragged his own briefs off, and Valery climbed on top, whipped them out of Boris’s hand, balled them up. Tossed them away. He was straddling Boris, warming Boris’s erection with the heat of his own, and he had one of the shirt stays in his hand. He rocked up against Boris’s body to lean over him, a straight face looking dangerous - Boris’s eyes rose skeptically to meet him - and Valery burst into helpless laughter. 

Valery dragged his glasses off and abandoned them somewhere overhead as Boris grabbed him and crushed him against his chest. Boris’s shoulders started to shake too, dropping them into a moment of tangled arms and legs and bumping bodies, punctuated by little snorting laughs and sounds of skin on skin on mattress. 

Boris pulled the thin top cover over their heads, so they were cocooned together and the lamp light through it was diffused rose-gold.

“Shh,” Boris said, still shaking. “Not too loud.” 

“You shhh,” Valery managed, but he stifled his face against Boris’s chest, and Boris held him through a few more rounds of giggles. 

Eventually composure returned, leaving them curled up in each other with fading smiles, still clinging tight, and Boris held his wheezing Valera and whispered some encouragement to him. That was their condition - a bout of joy was tiring. 

Valery took them both in hand and watched Boris’s face. Boris’s eyes grew wary with the sudden awkwardness of an ingenue, as Valery’s thumb planted against the underside of his head. The gruff mask dropped, every time, and the delicacy, the core of gentleness you wouldn’t expect in such an imperious steel scaffold of a man, shone out from his eyes. Valery pressed a kiss to his lips and ran them together through his fingers.

He started them slowly, until the tension had built back up and the color was high in Boris’s cheeks; he picked up the pace, whispering, until Boris was straining red and dripping on Valery’s knuckles. Valery kissed him again and rolled them over so Boris was on his back, so the heat and weight of their bodies felt like a sweaty tight vice. He had his leg draped over Boris and his wrist was bringing them in quick flicks and jolts to an almost unbearable sort of tense; Valery felt logjammed in the pit of his stomach, he felt the tension in his thighs and groin and balls, and from the sounds Boris was making, the way he was almost bucking out of Valery’s hand, he was there too. He came in the next moment, one long shuddering clench of his teeth and stutter of his hips into Valery’s fist, and Valery came somewhere in the midst of worrying about Boris, keeping him wrapped in his fingers; probably as soon as the first hot rope of cum hit his belly. 

Boris was a little dazed. The mask was still gone, he looked raw and open, and his look said kiss me. 

Valery did, plastering their bodies together and getting his mouth on Boris’s - gentle, but everything, tongue, teeth, trying to wipe that look off Boris’s face, because he was the most beautiful man Valery had ever seen, and coming undone was no shame. He had a wicked thought. “Next time…”

He whispered in Boris’s ear.

Boris’s eyes shifted in their sockets. He smiled.

“With all your stupid straps on,” Valery elaborated.