#it's ok. the cut was clean and I own glue

[thenearsightedmicroraptor]

Reminder to traditional artists that, if you are, say, up an hour past your bedtime, and you decide that before you haul your ass off to bed, you're juuuust going to do a little something, and that little something is, for the sake of argument, cutting an empty sketchbook sort of in half to make a flipbook/analog idea generator/randomizer thing, of your very own, just remember to maybe check if said sketchbook really is empty, or if you, for some reason, decided skip the very first page and then do three experimental-yet-very-nice marker drawings, only find out that the paper doesn't handle markers very well, and then, for reasons you no longer comprehend, toss it back into the unused sketchbook drawer, and forget about it until a year later when you suddenly get the urge to act on a late-night whim.

So you don't end up slicing your old art in half.

[nytb]

Savior Complex

Y/N was Barcelona's big hope after Martens left. Having come from Chelsea, she already had the experience needed to compete in the big leagues, add that to her young age, the kid had no ceiling, although the party animal lifestyle she led didn't help with team cohesion.

"You do realize that you need more than talent to make it here right?" Alexia questioned, it being more of a rhetorical question, before she walked away and continued their training drills. "Cut the kid some slack" you heard Mapi defend you "We all did stupid shit when we were young" she pleaded your case. The Barcelona captain was having none of it "I don't recall you going to parties before game-day during your time at Atletico" a dig aimed at you.

Ignoring the periodic jabs from your captain, you trained to the best of your abilities. "Y/N I want to try something new" Jona signalled to you "You're going to attack the space" he added.

Running behind the Barcelona backline was hard enough, add the drinks you had the previous night, and it sure made it a whole lot harder.

"Yup gotcha" you replied confidently, trying to hide how you actually felt.

"Sorry kid, I'm not going to make it easy on you" Rolfo declared "Captain's orders" she added looking at the midfielder who gave the Swede an approving look.

Each time you got a ball in behind the defence, the Swedish international stuck on you like glue, and when you did manage to get past her, you were met with an unforgiving Mapi.

"You good?" the defender lent you a hand, helping you up after her challenge that left you on the floor "Yup, yup" you replied cleaning yourself off "You girls are playing like it's the champions league final ya know" you added in an attempt to beg for mercy.

Alexia, who was keeping tabs on you during training approached "If only you did too" the midfielder said as she grabbed Mapi away, talking tactics on how to defend better against you.

This time, Alexia was on your team, well at least she was supposed to be. Giving you passes that made you run faster, that put you in challenging positions. Still, you ran, even when your legs couldn't keep up, until they couldn't anymore.

"Ouch" you mumbled on the floor "Not so easy huh" the captain approached you extending her hand to help you up with a mocking smile on her face. Standing back up on your own you replied "Don't pretend you’re not thrilled to see me like this" you cleaned yourself off again "Oh I'm not" the midfielder replied "I'm absolutely loving it" she added taking her position back on the field.

The rest of the training session was more of the same, brutal drills with Alexia, who pushed you more than normal, or defenders tackling you like their lives depended on it. To say that you were relieved when training ended would be an understatement.

While most of the players had already made their way to the dressing room, you stayed out on the field.

Laying on the floor, an apologetic Aitana approached "Sorry we were so tough on you today" she said as she sat down next to you "I get it" you replied "Your loyalties lie with the captain" you excused your teammates actions. The both of you stayed out making small talk until you caught your breath.

As you entered the dressing room, you caught the end of a conversation between Alexia and Mapi. "I don't get why you're so hard on Y/N" the defender stated, getting a cut throat answer from your captain "She's here to learn right?" she said, softening up on her follow up "I wish I didn't have to be so hard on her though".

Your presence was known as you responded to the captain's statement "Well luckily for you, I'm not here to be part of your little saviour complex" you said in a rather cut throat tone catching everyone off guard "If you stopped being a prick, I wouldn't have to save your ass" Alexia answered, clearly not backing down from your challenge.

Mapi picked up on the tension that built up and decided to jump in to stop it before it blew up "Ok ok- enough you two" she tried to calm the situation down "How bout we go out as a group" the defender suggested. "Pass" you replied "I have a party to go to" you added as you picked your stuff up and made your way out of the dressing room "See ya in 2 days" you peace'd out.

"It's weird that we have never partied with the party animal, no?" Patri asked, receiving a dirty looks from Engen who answered "Maybe you haven't".

Aitana, got the sudden interest to get to know Y/N's partying side "Maybe we should join her" she suggested, Engen replied "Actually, she invited me to the party"

Alexia was definitely not happy where the conversation was leading "Yeah- No, that would be weird" she answered an unasked question from her best friend that was begging with her puppy eyes.

"But, but.." the defender pleaded "Fine" Alexia finally gave in "But I won't stay for long".

Ana-Maria, who had partied with Y/N before, jumped in "So that's why she never invited you to join" she blurted out not thinking about the consequences of her statement.

"Wha-" the locker room was shocked "You went out with her before?" Patri asked. "I did too" Lucy joined, "I was curious why she didn't invite you out" she pointed at her captain.

"Yeah- I was shocked too" Ingrid added as they both laughed.

Nuria, who was Y/N's flatmate filled the gaps for everyone "Yup, definitely weird" she said "Especially when you look like that" she added.

Alexia, had no clue what her teammate was talking about so she asked "What do you mean what I look like?"

"Ale, you are Y/N's type" the fullback replied "Like, you couldn't be more her type if you tried"

"I'm pretty sure Y/N hates me" Alexia confessed. Ingrid tried to bring her captain's spirits up "Yup, because you are always so stuck up" the Norwegian stated "What if you show her your fun side" she added inviting the rest of her teammates to the party.

Multiple cocktails down, a couple of dances with random girls and two hours later, the group arrived at the disco.

Engen spotted you immediately "There she is" she stated grabbing Mapi as she made her way to you "Engeeen" you said hugging your favourite Norwegian "You made it" you looked behind her spotting some of your teammates "And you brought company" you added smiling.

Alexia had initially stayed away from your group, processing the information Nuria had thrown at her in the locker-room.

"You're overthinking it" the fullback spoke to her captain "Just go get a drink and loosen up", the midfielder initially refused her teammates suggestion until she glanced over at you dancing with some random brunette.

Nuria insisted again, pointing to the bar "Fine fine" Alexia replied before she made her way to the bar leaving the group behind.

Your drink looked pretty empty, that just meant one thing; "Time for a refill" you declared to the woman you were dancing with leaving her alone.

As you made your way to the bar, you saw a beautiful brunette, with an even better silhouette in a tight black dress "You're beautiful" you flirted with the woman placing your empty glass on the counter.

The woman turned around, shocked at the sight of your face- it was Alexia.

"You're drunk" she replied "I'm taking you home" she grabbed you by the wrist ending your night short.

"Noooo, let's dance" you stated, not realising you were talking to your captain. Alexia picked up on this minor detail, and seeing how you insisted on partying, she resorted to flirting

"I can give you a private dance" she whispered in your ear "If you come with me". The midfielder grabbed you by the hem of your shirt, leading you out of the disco discreetly.

The rest of the night became a blur. You woke up in an unknown apartment, in a bed, alone, fully clothed. "Well this is new" you stated to yourself.

Night-outs usually lead to hook ups with strangers, a different way to explore the city.

You got out of bed, appreciating the view "Where the fuck am I".

You heard sounds coming from outside of the bedroom, so you naturally followed them, having clearly learnt nothing from horror movies.

"Morning" a brunette turned around "A- Alexia?" you mumbled "Did... did we" before you finished your question your captain replied "God no" she handed you a cup of coffee "Here, drink up".

You sat on the bar stool, shocked at how your day off was starting. The Catalonian tried to make small talk.

In the middle of some weird question you interrupted her "Pardon my french, but what the fuck am I doing here?".

Getting the run down on the previous night, you blushed as you pieced the information being blurted at you with the the moments you remembered. "Wha- wait... we kissed".

Alexia laughed "Nope, that wasn't me" making you turn bright red out of embarrassment "But you wish it were" she mocked you further.

"You didn't answer my question" you attempted to change topic "So you're not as smooth sober" the midfielder teased.

"Aren't you supposed to be nagging me?" you asked confused. "Well, after seeing you having all that fun, I realised that I never showed you how to have fun with me" she attempted to speak in English as you weren't fluent in Spanish just yet.

Your bright red face signalled to a possible bad translation. "With THE TEAM" she corrected herself making you burst out laughing.

"Yeah yeah, now who's flustered" you laughed mischievously.

[writing-forever]

Chapter 3!!!!!

This one is like 1000 words which is more than I've ever written before!

tw: angst, vivisection, fear of death, implied death, dehumanization, knives, blood, fear.

Yep this is an angsty one, tell me if I missed any tws

1 2 4

Chapter 3. Making friends over bleeding corpses

Alex cringed as light poured into the cup. He stumbled back, covering his eyes with his arm. He heard a gasp although he didn't know whether the person was excited or horrified. It probably didn't matter anyway. He shouldn't even look at them, but he couldn't resist his own curiosity. He looked up.

The first thing he noticed was how colorful her hair was. It had been dyed beautiful pastel blues and pinks. Although he figured it would be nicer if it was clean. It looked like she had put glue in her hair or something.

The second thing he noticed was that she was neither excited or horrified. Instead, the expression on her face was something akin to surprise. And maybe a little bit of anger. That made him wary, an angry giant was never a safe giant. At least she wasn't excited to cut him up like he expected. The human shook her head seeming to realize she was staring. She looked away for a second before turning back and addressing him directly. 

"Would you like to get out of there?" she asked softly. 

Alex nodded, the sooner he was out of this metal prison the better. But then he realized that to get him out she would probably have to grab him.

He quickly shook his head. but the human didn't see him, and next thing he knew the cup was moving again. This time it was tilting but it was going slow enough that he could keep his footing as the wall turned into the floor. He realized that this was what the human meant when she asked to let him out. As soon as the floor was level he rushed out desperate to leave the claustrophobic prison. Behind him, the human set the cup upright again before turning her attention to him. 

“You ok?”

Alex stared. He expected for her to ask something like ‘How's the weather down there?’ or ‘How long do you think it'll take for you to start begging?’ not ‘Are you ok?’ it had to be a trick. Humans didn't care about his kind. 

He nodded slowly. He was strong. He could get through this. 

The human sighed in relief which only made Alex more confused. 

The human's attention shifted away from him and he turned to see what she was looking at. The cup that he had been in or more specifically the name that was written on it.

“Is that your name?” she asked quietly. 

Alex quickly shook his head. No way was he letting himself be called ‘fluffy’. It was demeaning!

The human tilted her head “What's your name then?”

Alex didn't see a way to answer this one without talking. The problem was, he didn't think he could talk without stuttering. Maybe he could stall. Instead of answering, he pointed to the human mimicking the way she tilted her head. 

“My name?” the human questioned.

Alex nodded.

“Candice, but my friends call me Candy. Now you.”

Alex figured he couldn't stall any longer. He summoned up all his courage, determined not to stutter. He pointed at himself before saying “Alex.”

The human ‘Candy’ nodded. 

“That's a very nice name.”

She opened he mouth to say more but the teacher started giving instructions. 

“Ok class, I'm sure all of you are very excited to get started but I do need to give you some pointers! First I'm going to give each one of you a dissection kit!”

Alex shuddered. He knew this was going to happen but hearing that word being said so casually gave him the creeps.

The teacher kept talking.

“It will include a scalpel, a magnifying glass, plastic forceps, and tape! Now the biggest tip I can give you is the best way to restrict the borrower's movement! Now I want you to follow along with this part so I can make sure you're doing it right!

Alex looked up at Candy, surely she wouldn't- 

Candy looked back at him with a sad smile. She really did look sorry. But then again he had only known her for like two minutes. He couldn't trust her. His breathing quickened, he took a couple steps back pleading with his eyes for her not to do this. Candy leaned down “I am so, so sorry about this” she whispered 

That was all the warning he got before a large hand pushed him down till he was lying flat on the table. He struggled, kicking his feet and scratching at the large fingers pinning him down.  he distantly heard the teacher talking, walking the students through -ugh- properly pinning a borrower.

He ended with his legs taped to the table and his arms held out away from him with fingers placed right on the crook of his elbows. To her credit Candy seemed to be at least trying to be careful. Easing up on the pressure whenever he winced. But it was still very obvious that she had never interacted with a borrower before. Which was just as well because he didn't want any poor borrower to meet anyone who went to this school. He closed his eyes when he heard the teacher walking down the aisle. He didn’t even want to look at the bitch who decided that dissecting borrowers was a good idea. He closed his eyes tighter when the teacher praised candy. Alex expected him to leave then, but instead he felt a finger ruffle his hair. He flinched and the teacher chuckled before turning and heading back to his desk. 

“Ok class! You all did that perfectly! Now it's time to move on to the actual dissection!” 

Alex squirmed. He didn't want to be dissected! He knew he made a big deal about the being ok with dying thing, but now that he thought about it he didn't actually want to die!

 Candy looked at him apologetically. He glared. 

“Ok class, now I want you pick up your scalpels and your gonna cut a thin line down the chest and stomach of your borrower! Don't cut too deep! We want these borrowers to stay alive as long as possible!”

Alex saw candy turn to pick up the scalpel, his breath hitched as he renewed his struggles, he could taste salt on his tongue. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the stinging pain of the knife, but it didn't come. He squinted his eyes open and saw Candy fiddling with the blade, almost like she was stalling. Then she froze. Alex heard footsteps moving toward them. Next thing he knew the teacher was looming over them. 

“Why haven't you started yet? You can't possibly feel sorry for that thing!”

Alex saw the beginnings of a glare on candy’s face, but his hope was dashed once again when she twisted her face into a smile “Of course not, just trying to make him as scared as possible.” She said. 

Alex shuddered. 

“Oh, that’s nice but we do have a time limit so start with the dissection please! You did listen to my instructions right?”

“Yes sir.” 

“Then get on with it!”

Alex saw Candy tighten her grip on the scalpel and start moving it toward him. He tensed up, once again bracing himself for pain. He felt the cold tip of the scalpel touch his chest. It stayed there for a moment, unmoving, before slicing across his skin in one clean sweep. It didn't hurt at first. But then it started to sting, and then throb, until he was is excruciating pain. He held back tears as Candy put the scalpel away. Then she leaned in close to him, whispering.

“The teacher isn't paying attention to me anymore, I can get you out of here but I'll have to put you in my pocket, ok?

Alex considered his options. On one hand he could refuse her offer and die at the hands of these filthy students, on the other he could go with her and possibly die at her hands.

In the end it wasn't like he had a choice. If he said no she could just pick him up anyway. He decided to make everything easier for himself and nodded. Candy smiled at him, he guessed it was supposed to be reassuring, but it ended up looking anxious. Then she snaked her fingers underneath him and he winced. There was still a long cut on his chest, and now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he was gonna pass out from blood loss soon. So he let Candy pick him up and gently put him in her pocket. He didn't fight or squirm. He merely accepted his fate. Who knows maybe this human was a nice human? He giggled. A nice human. He’d have better luck finding a needle in a haystack.

[konata-izumi-kinny-writes]

Luigi x GN!Reader sfw and nsfw HCS

Might as well 💚

Warning: some bad grammar and smut hcs bc why not. Me being stupid in an attempt to come up with a simile ;-;

Aight lets get one thing straight... you two are the cutest couple in the whole Mushroom Kingdom

Cuddles and kisses galore, not really in public tho, Weegee is too shy for that

So instead, lots of hand holding and the occasional kiss on the cheek

Luigi is clumsy and you may have to help him sometimes, from catching him when he slips, or helping him out of the dryer because Polterpup accidentally scared him and he fell backwards and got stuck in it. Nobody is safe, but thankfully nobody is seriously injured (yet lmao)

Luigi turns a bit red every time you kiss him.

Kiss him all over his face, he will be redder than a rose bush in the middle of a ladybug swarm (dont judge pls i came up w that on the spot ;-;)

Luigi isn't as on edge around you as he is everyone else, sure he's still a bit nervous around you, but only bc he loves you so much 😭💚.

This boi unfortunately snores, however its not that kind of snore thats so loud it shakes the glass on the windows (thank god).

He will be overjoyed and flustered if you make something for him, whether its food, drawings, plushies, he will love anything you give him ^^

If you insist on going with him to help Professor E. Gadd with another ghost problem... hes stuck to you like glue, not just because hes scared, no no no, Luigi wants to absolutely make sure your safe.

You two hum together while wandering the mansion (like he hums the theme in the game)

If you see a spider in your house... sorry yall but hes just as scared as you are.

Both of yall backed up in a corner screaming and throwing stuff at it until you get it or until Mario walks in🤣

Polterpup absolutely LOVES you. Ghost doggo jumps on you whenever he sees you (such a good boi)

Luigi will put (most of) his fears aside to help you if you're in trouble

Keeps track of your hyperfixations and hobbies

You two travel together sometimes and its the funnest thing ever.

You sit quietly, share ear buds, and hold his hand on the plane, bus, or train

But in the car... KARAOKE THE WHOLE WAY BABYYYYYY

Your guys's relationship is so fun and awkward ^^

AIght yall idk how to put a cut on these thingys so imma just warn you here, SMUT AHEAD IF YOU DONT LIKE THAT STUFF PLS SCROLL and thx for reading this far 🤗

Ooooooh boy

Where do i start

Switch, hes a switch

Yall put Polterpup out in the living room on his own little bed before yall actually do anything

Luigi is SHY AF, so you're gonna have to initiate this, you need to get him going

HES BIG imma just leave it there

Red faced the whole time

A bit shaky at first, nervous boi

He loves you though so he'll put the nerves aside and focus on pleasuring you

Hes pretty vanilla other than a praise kink, Luigi loves you and he wants you to know that

This boi loves your thighs, loves how squishy and warm you are

He goes pretty dang hard but will go slow and gentle if you ask

Checks up on you and makes sure you're ok

Tummy rubs

Lots of neck kisses and marks on your body

Kind of quiet at first but will get louder the longer yall are at it

Loves having you on your back and nuzzling his face in your neck as he makess love to you

After that he helps clean you up and cuddles with you, you two have a bath tomorrow morning.

Aight yall thx for reading :D

[cinnamonest]

But yes I have thoughts about Albedo having a sort of mommy complex... Different from the others, though, not quite an Oedipal thing, but more of a hyper-attachment to a very maternal, affectionate darling. See, he never had a motherly figure. Like yes he had Rhinedottir but... She's described as cold and calloused... it even says in his story "He had always believed wholeheartedly that his teacher would make good on her threat to leave him, should he fail." So basically he was brought up to be afraid of failure most likely, and threatened with abandonment. He's never had a figure that was very motherly in the traditional sense. Like, super sweet, doting, coddling and nurturing, forgiving. So when a darling like that comes along... Soft and sweet girl... Ray of sunshine... He gets attached like glue. He knew Rhinedottir would leave him if he didn't meet expectations... So he's a perfectionist. Has always been very afraid of failure. He can't mess anything up. So it's very very rare that he does. Unfortunately, one of those extremely rare cases happens to be... All over darling. He was distracted by darlings choice of particularly tight clothing that day, accidentally put two wrong things together and whoops... Something of a chemical explosion. Gets all over your clothes, staining them. He's unusually apologetic, it's rare to hear his voice actually non-monotone, actually has a slight panic to it. You're an employee, after all, you can leave at any time, and you certainly will now... But... You... Smile...? Laugh a bit. It's ok. Don't worry about it. Which feels... So foreign. You're not mad? Not disappointed? You're not threatening to quit or leave him behind? Even though he messed up? It's a very new experience. It makes him feel strange. You tell him to be more careful, but before he can apologize, you add, you could have gotten hurt! And that line throws him off. Be more careful... for his own sake? Not yours? He's still silent when you walk off to change, but stands there in a confused daze, staring off into space, unable to understand. And then, you... Care about him? He falls asleep at his desk, slumped over. When he wakes up, there's a blanket over his shoulders, all the papers he was working on have been pushed to the side and stacked in a neat pile so he didn't smudge the ink or drool on them or anything. So strange, he doesn't remember doing that... Unless you did it? It's just the two of you in here, so that means you had to do it. But... Why? Then, a few weeks later, he gets sick. Not that it means anything, his master always taught him that sickness and injury isn't an excuse to stop working, so he's still working on his things as he's sniffling and coughing. And you fret over it. Get in that... Oddly... Maternal sort of fussing, tell him no, no, go lay down, you poor thing. You more or less force him to rest, not only that, but you bring him food for the rest of the day. Tell him not to worry, you'll take care of everything, you'll clean up the work station and get everything resolved for the day. He thinks through it logically and decides you must be worried he'll get other people sick, right? That's why. Nothing else would explain this strange course of actions you've taken. His brain can't understand why you would do all that... just because you want to. Yet, it persists when he's injured. He's used to that too. Glass breaks pretty easily, cuts his hands and fingers, but he just bandages it up and goes back to work as he was taught he's supposed to. You won't have that though. He didn't even take care of it right! It'll get infected, you say, as you force him to sit down, undo the poorly done bandages, get everything you need. Rubbing alcohol, for the infection potential. It'll hurt, you say, here, squeeze my hand. And he does - it does sting like a bitch after all. But the pain isn't really in the forefront of his mind. He's too lost in the strangeness of it all. Isn't this technically wasting time? He could easily work through the pain. He's just silent as your soft hands wrap up his fingers, you're back to that odd fussing where you say things like poor thing and it's ok and to top it off, you pull his hand up to your mouth and kiss his fingers, to make them better faster!, you say. Very strange -- scientifically speaking, the kissing should not have any actual effect, yet somehow it actually does make him feel better... must be some chemical effect he’s unaware of...? But the strangest occurrence of all occurs when he does do well. He's used to people thinking he's smart by now, people always admire him. That alone was a startling change when he first arrived in Mondstadt, he was so used to doing things right being... expected. The bare minimum. Rhinedottir would look at what he made and often just nod in acknowledgement, it was expected, but other people think it's nice... but, he tells himself, what he does isn't really impressive. People just think it is because they've never seen alchemy at work before, that's all. It's not actually good. He always tells himself to get ahold of himself whenever he feels happy with success -- he shouldn't feel happy or proud, no, it's not good enough, he has to push himself more, do better... but you can't help but notice the smile that initially crosses his face at the success, the way his eyes light up before they go dull again as he chastises himself for allowing himself to feel too proud... you're more perceptive than he thinks, you've picked up on how he pushes himself too hard for perfection. So you try to make him feel better... you say you're proud of him. You say it's good. Not just adequate, not the bare minimum... you look actually impressed... it makes him feel proud, and for once he can't get that prideful feeling to go away. It feels like a high, a buzz, it lasts the rest of the day, he keeps remembering that you said you were proud! You said it was good! It repeats over and over in his head like a record. It actually takes a time when Alice comes back to understand it. He's happy to see her again, but as he watches her go about her interactions with her daughter, it strikes him as familiar. Poor Klee never gets hurt by her bombs, but she trips and scrapes her knee, goes crying to her mother... who does something that mirrors what you did. Tells her it's ok, tells her to squeeze her hand if it hurts, she'll take care of it... she has that same baby-talk-ish fussing tone to her voice, calls her poor thing just like you did him... when Klee falls asleep on the floor, Alice just smiles and wraps her up and puts her things away, carries her to bed... and when she accidentally blows something up (again), Alice just runs fingers through her hair and tells her it's ok, she didn't mean to do it right? Just be more careful from now on, she could have gotten hurt -- the exact same thing you told him -- but... she's still proud, her bombs are made so well! He makes the connection. So this is what maternal affection and care feels like? He starts to think it would have been nice to have that, even if he was technically never a "child" in the physical sense, it would have been a nice thing to have in the early stages of his life... Or at any time. Or now. It feels nice... foreign, strange, unfamiliar, but so so nice and warm and comforting. He feels like it's ok if he messes up, if it's you. You forgive him. You always do. And if he gets hurt or sick, you'll help... It feels so nice. It's the only real comfort he's ever known. He feels safe and secure and like he doesn't have to be perfect all the time. But he doesn't like the way that extends to others. You're nice to everyone, he soon finds out. You help everyone when they get hurt. You forgive everyone when they mess up. It makes him feel some cold, twisting feeling in his gut and chest, he finds himself slamming things, clenching his teeth when he hears you talking in that same sweet voice to other people. It's really not fair, when you think about it. He never had that, but most people do, right? Most people have a mother or a mother figure in their lives they can go to, he never had that, that's what you're supposed to be. Everyone else's mother or maternal figure is theirs, not everyone's. Why does his have to be there for everyone? Why not just him? Doesn't he deserve what everyone else gets to have? It's that line of thinking that leads him to isolate you. When he initially sets off to go set up camp in the mountains, he decides you should be the one that comes to work up there, rather than the other assistants. They can stay in Mondstadt... you're too nice to them anyway. As long as you're up here, you won't be able to be nice to anyone else, and all that sweet, maternal affection can be just for him... like it should be.

[the-obiwan-for-me]

Clan of Two

I had every intention of participating in Bo-Katan Week 2021 for the whole week. But real life is tough, and so is my main fic right now, and it just didn’t happen. But I got struck by inspiration when I realized last night what the prompt for today is. So, here’s my single contribution for Bo-Katan Week!

She found the boy in the tiny galley of the stolen gunship, nursing a mug of weak looking tea. The poor kid's face was swollen and angry looking. She wouldn't be surprised if his orbital bone was fractured. She knew from experience that that brute of a traitor, Gar Saxon, packed a punch.

Physically, he looked rough. But he was a Kryze, and he wore his emotions loudly, just like she did. Just like Satine. And he looked shell shocked and angry and drowning in grief, just like she felt.

She slid into the bench across from him and took a long pull off a bottle of tihaar she'd found stashed away. She passed it to him. He looked at it incredulously for a moment, then took his own swig, surprising her when he didn't wince like she expected. Perhaps the kid was tougher than she thought.

"How's your head?" she asked.

He picked at the label on the bottle for several heartbeats. "She was my mother, you know."

Bo-Katan swallowed the stone that seemed lodged in her throat, then nodded. "I know that."

He looked at her, dumbstruck, his unswollen eye blazing the same fierce crystalline blue as his mother's. He took another swig from the bottle, handed it back. "How did you know?"

Bo-Katan snorted a humorless laugh. "First of all, bleaching your hair only makes you look more like your mother." He glanced away, sheepish. "But mostly, it doesn't take much to spot a Kryze. And Satine is-" a sob she had not anticipated caught in her chest- "was my only sibling. You're no foundling."

He studied her for a while, working something through in his head. She sat quietly, giving him the room he needed to process. Then he finally sighed, squaring his broad shoulders. "Why didn't you try to kill me when you were with Death Watch, if it's that easy to tell?"

Bo-Katan sighed herself. "I wouldn't allow it."

He gave her another astonished look. It was becoming a habit. "You had that much power?" he scoffed. 

She shrugged. "I was second in command. But, no, it wasn't like that." She picked at the label herself, recalling memories, some still too fresh to even feel like memories. She drowned them with a heavy drink of tihaar, then handed it to him. "Vizsla was tenacious, but he also could have the attention span of a Corellian grass squirrel. You would come up, and I would distract him." 

He drank from the bottle and stared at her, his gaze hard. "Couldn't you have done that for my mother? Your sister?"

"Listen, kid, I never intended for that to happen!" she shouted, jumping to her feet to pace, gesturing wildly back in the imagined direction of Mandalore. "None of this was supposed to happen! I didn't even want to deal with those monsters! I tried to talk Pre out of it, especially once I knew that one had such a thing for Kenobi." The sob worked itself loose from her chest and she fought back the hot tears that wanted to follow it. The heat of her anger sparked the fire of her grief. "None of this was supposed to happen. I tried, Korkie. I tried." She stopped, staring down at her boots, wondering absently whose blood splattered them. "At least I got you out." 

"I know." It was said softly, almost a whisper. She raised her gaze to meet his. "I….I just know."

"How do you know? Why should you trust me?"

"I mean, you did get me, and my friends, out. And I saw what you tried to do for others in the aftermath. You do care about Mandalore." He stood and moved toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder. He was tall, and broad chested, and in many ways reminded her of her father. But in so many ways, he was so completely, uniquely different. "And Mum trusted you immediately. She forgave you, instantly. I don't know much. She didn't talk about you except about when you two were small. I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, it wasn't so bad that she couldn't forgive you." He squeezed her shoulder, let his arm drop. "So, I should probably try to do the same. I'm going to try, ok, Auntie?"

She reached up and tenderly brushed a hand along his cheek. She was so rarely tender. She had so rarely been shown tenderness. But she could be gentle for him. He was all she had left, now, and he was too much like his mother to be treated like every other ruthless brute that had shaped her. "This is how I know you're her child, ad'ika. You could dye your hair purple and grow a beard and cover your face with tattoos. But that, right there, is how I know."

He smiled sadly, his eyes shiny with the threat of tears. He took her hand from his face and squeezed it. "Vor entye, ba'vodu."

She squeezed back before letting his hand go. "No debts here, Korkie. I am in your debt." 

He turned, rubbing his chin as he made his way back to the table, deep in thought. "What do we do now?" He drank from the bottle and handed it to her as she passed him, moving around the small space until she found a medkit.

"First, you let me patch up that face of yours," she said, sitting next to him before taking her own drink. "Then, if you're willing, we fight for our home. We fight for your mother's legacy."

He nodded once as she gently began to clean the cuts and scrapes along his face. "I am willing." He hissed in pain as she prodded along his orbital bone. It was definitely fractured. "But I don't know if I want to fight like you."

She picked up the bacta spray and gave it a shake. "Fair enough."

"And after that?"

"Well, we're family. We'll take care of each other."

He huffed out a breath. "You had a chance to be my family for eighteen years." He said it with a sharpness and bitterness she hadn't expected, sounding more like a petulant, angry teenager. He was an angry teenager, she reminded herself. Beyond that, even. The world as he knew it has been destroyed. Burned to the ground, in large part due to actions she had taken, or, at the very least, been able to prevent.

She had once been a teenager whose world had been burned to the ground, too.

So, she decided to try and take a page from her sister’s book. She forgave his sharp words.

She sighed, cupping his cheek softly, turning his face to hers. “I am beginning to regret that I didn’t take my chance more and more each day,” she said quietly. “We’re a clan of two, now, and we have to take care of each other. I won’t lose you, too. I plan on keeping you safe.” She rummaged through the medkit, pulling out the skin adhesive. “Now sit still while I glue this shut.”

He looked apologetic, took a sip of tihaar, and sat quietly, letting her work.

They sat like that for a while, Bo-Katan, working gently to glue shut a cut across Korkie’s temple. Korkie hummed a tune that Bo-Katan recognized as a lullaby her father sang to her and Satine when they were small. She mused to herself that she and Korkie would have nearly matching scars as she worked.

He suddenly jolted, looking up to meet her eyes. “If you knew she was my mum, can you tell me who my father is?”

Bo-Katan fought the urge to grimace, then gave herself a moment to compose herself, plan out the right thing to say. “Your mother and I weren’t really speaking when she would have been pregnant with you.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not at all. 

But it also wasn’t the absolute whole truth, either.

She knew who the father was. Or, at least, she had strong suspicion. She didn’t need to be a mathematician to realize Satine had to have become pregnant during her year with the two Jedi. One of which had the same nose, the same strong jaw, the same auburn hair that was just beginning to show in the roots of Korkie’s bleached hair. It was an easy enough guess. She was surprised he hadn’t guessed it already, really.

But, for now, she’d keep it herself. This boy didn’t need to know that the man who had come to save his mother, but, instead, caused her death, was his father. One day, maybe. Maybe when he wasn’t so fragile. When the world didn’t feel so utterly destroyed for the both of them.

He seemed to accept her answer. He nodded once, closed his eyes, and settled back into letting her repair the gash on his temple, humming softly to himself.

There was very little she could do to make amends for all the horror she had allowed to be wrought on their home. But she could do two things: she could fight to get it back, and she absolutely would protect her sister's son until her very last breath.

[bonecorn]

I love your anatomy/references posts & I love skulls and skeletons & I would love to know how you convince people to give you their animal heads to clean. Also any bone cleaning tips for suburban areas?? When I was living on a farm it was easy to leave stuff out and let the bugs take care of it but my parents said hard no to dead things bleaching on the porch

Oh this is very easy!

Find a friend or acquaintance with land and leave your stuff there. Bug cleaning and tub maceration don't need a lot of hands-on attendance so you can check in however often you like.

There's also "hot water maceration" where you simmer (dont boil!) fresh heads in hot water and remove the cooked meat by hand. Make sure you scramble the brains first and then cook away inside or with a camping stove on the porch. And "bleaching" which is done with hydrogen peroxide can be done inside since the skulls are already clean by then anyway.

I don't actually convince people to give me their pets. For livestock, I ask because most people aren't emotionally attached to their livestock.

For pets, I wait to be offered the remains. More on that under the cut.

TLDR: Know the pet owner, wait to be offered bodies rather than asking. Make sure they are always in control. Ask for livestock no problem. Don't let scavengers eat euthanized meat.

holy crap lol

I don't ask for pet bodies. The trick is to be very open and excited about what you do so that people who know you know about bones and know that you are respectful of animal remains. Then, when a beloved pet dies, they might think about you.

Open up the conversation on death before it's relevant

You can also plant the seed ahead of time during a conversation about bones while the pet in question is alive and healthy. "Sometimes I do pets if their owner is ok with it, though most want to bury. Have you ever thought about that for Baxter?" It's in SUPER poor taste to do this while an animal is dying, when you'll need to be way more tactful.

Know your friend well enough to guess their feelings on it

It SUPER depends on the person and how they view bodies and death. My ex's dog passed away and he was always queasy about corpses. I comforted him and cried with him while his beloved 15 year old dog declined and passed. I didn't ask or even mention it because I knew him enough to know that he would say no, and that asking would be painful and upsetting for him to think about. Same with my dear friend and her 20 year old cat. She had a beautiful pet graveyard with headstones and everything. You just know not to ask some people because traditionally laying bodies to rest is important to them.

Other pet owners are chill about it, ESPECIALLY if they come from a livestock background. Livestock people are used to sending their animals to be recycled into glue and wax when they die, because it's generally not feasible to bury or cremate a horse. If someone does plan to take that on, you know they are absolutely dedicated to traditional burial and won't give you anything.

Make it their choice to offer, rather than it being your request

Anyway. If you know the person, and you know they might be ok with giving up their pet's body due to how they view bodies and death, then you work on making them think about you. First, you comfort and do everything you can to help the person through their grief. If you weren't already planning on doing that, then you have no business asking for their pet. Do not comfort someone in order to get something out of them. That's disgusting. Just straight up ask them for their pet and know that they will view you as tactless and rude, but its better than manipulating them.

What I do is not manipulation, it's reminding people what you do and then letting them make their own decisions. When your friend is feeling a little better and is not crying, you can ask about logistics. I ask "What do you plan to do for burial/with the body?" and that usually makes them think about me and what I do with bodies. If they already have a meaningful spot picked out to bury or scatter/keep ashes, then that means the body is important to them and I shouldn't ask further.

At this point, they should realize what you could use the body for and think about how they feel about that. This is when my sister (who has a livestock background) offered her dog to me. We talked about how she thought of bodies, and she thought that the soul is the only thing that matters and once her dog passes there's nothing important left. I did not say anything to convince her, these were all her own thoughts.

It's very VERY important to respect and love the pet owner because they're extremely vulnerable and emotionally raw. That's why I don't straight up ask, because when you're losing a pet, you don't want to feel like someone is trying to gain something from you.

If your friend says they don't know or haven't decided what to do for the body, you can gently say "Let me know if you want me to help bury it, to take it with me, or to just be there for you." This is a close-ended statement and not a question. A question means that your friend has to come up with an answer right there and then, while an offer is actionable. This puts the power and autonomy in your friend's hands, so that when they make a decision it comes fully from their wants and needs and is not about you and what you want.

Be there for them even if you get nothing out of it

If they don't offer at this point, they're not going to. Now hold up your end of the bargain and continue to comfort and help through the grieving process. Again, if you aren't already invested in this person enough to want to soothe and comfort and be there for the human person in the equation, then you have no business asking for their pet. When a pet dies, your first concern should be to the person. If it's not, then you aren't close enough to ask for goodies.

Helping someone grieve is not payment for their pet's body. If you realize they aren't going to give you something in return for your comfort and so you abandon them, you're a terrible person using their grief to manipulate them for your own gain. Comfort is not payment. Closeness in grief is a metric by which you measure "Do I have any business to ask?"

The pet owner runs the show, not you

Throughout this process, stress that the owner can change their mind at any time. You don't want the owner to think "I hate this but I can't back out now because I promised..." Even when they animal is all wrapped up an in your vehicle and ready to go, quietly tell the owner that they can still choose what happens and if they have second thoughts, that's ok and you won't be mad.

My sister let me be there for putting her dog down and it was all about her and her love for her dog. She carried him out and laid him in my trunk and we stood in the rain and talked and hugged. She then told me she was happy that he could bring happiness to someone in life and now still in death, but that she didn't want to know anything. I agreed not to tell her or post anything about processing her dog, so for her it would be like burial. The same thing happened with my other friend's horse. She spent some time with him and then as soon as he passed she drove away and let me do what I wanted. She didn't want to hear Any of it. Again, I didn't ask or even offer, she came up with the idea of giving me the body all on her own even before I knew he was dying.

Horse people are much closer to pet owners than livestock owners, but they are used to sending their friend's bodies off to a different kind of processing (at Tallow factories, livestock remains are ground up, cut apart, cooked, and spun around to extract various substances that become soap, glue, candles, etc) so they know not to think about what happens after death. It still depends on how well you know the owner and know how they think about death, but if you offer to handle logistics like dealing with the tallow guy, they can actually save money by letting you have it.

You're actually doing livestock a favor

Livestock people are generally chill and have a much more utility/asset view of their animals. If the animal doesn't even have a name they probably don't care what happens when it's dead. In fact, most farmers will jump at the chance to give you their animal for free because calling the tallow company to haul it away costs them money. This is also why in areas with lots of livestock, you sometimes find bodies dumped in ditches or left on the side of the road, because the farmer didn't want to pay to get rid of it so they made it everyone else's problem. Even pet animals like dogs and cats are more Utility than pure companions on a farm, so you might have a better chance of getting remains from a farmer than a neighbor.

One more thing about pets and livestock.

When I find a dead deer, I flay it open and let the vultures eat it. For domestic animals, they are often put to sleep via chemical/drug.

THIS IS POISONOUS TO SCAVENGERS.

DO NOT LET SCAVENGERS EAT EUTHANIZED ANIMALS

Seriously. If you like nature, you need to protect it. Deflesh it yourself, throw all the meat/blood/offal away or bury it 6 feet down. Idk what it does to the environment so I always freeze it and then throw it away on garbage day.

Rot bacteria and beetle larvae dermestids don't mind. In fact, dermestid droppings and pupa shells can be analyzed for toxins by forensic scientists to determine cause of death. Neat! Just make sure that if you process outdoors, the remains are EXTREMELY SECURE and cannot be opened by vultures, coyotes, or wild pigs.

Remember the living, human person

I know I look very clinical by picking apart human emotions, but I respond, feel, love, and grieve just like everyone else. I didn't plan how to get any of the animals in the above stories, I just acted on instinct and these are the ones where that paid off well.

Most of the time if I go "huh. I feel that may not go over well" I can then take that feeling apart and figure out why. So hopefully explaining how my feelings work it can help you listen to your most useful and most compassionate ones.

The living person is always more important than a dead pet. Sometimes you can get the dead pet without distressing your friend, sometimes you shouldn't even try.

Respecting the dead

A final note on working with pets vs wild animals. This is someone's family member, so don't play puppet with it like you might with a skunk skin. Don't take pictures of any part of the process until they are rendered to bones. Pictures of dead pet species are even more distressing to the general public than wild animals, and sick freaks might take your photos and send them to people for kicks or attention. Better to just not have photos than for that to happen.

What processing a pet feels like

Working on a pet is always going to be different for you, the vulture, than a wild animal. Everything you see is touched by human hands. My sister's dog was... beautiful. You don't really realize how moved you're going to be by seeing the perfect amount of healthy fat covering, or beautiful muscles that speak of exercise and attention. She rescued this starving pup and turned him into the healthiest animal I have ever seen. She's a vet assistant and the care and love she put into this dog had me sitting there crying while I held his paws; with their perfectly maintained clipped and sanded nails. I'd only met the dog once for a few minutes when he was alive, but his body was a canvas and every inch was painted with layers and layers of love. It made me so, so sad that his neurological issues couldn't be helped because his body was proof of someone who would stop at nothing to cure what could be cured, and that the last months of his life were happier than he ever imagined.

On the flip side, pets whose bodies show signs of neglect and abuse are going to hit you harder than any deer could. The dog I found discarded in a garbage bag on the side of the road had rotten teeth and nails so long they curled over themselves into hoops. An overgrown and suffering deer is just the sign of nature taking its course. An overgrown and suffering dog is the sign of human cruelty, of shirked responsibility.

Most pets you get will between these two dogs. No owner is perfect. Most old dogs have lost teeth to rot, sick cats too weak to scratch properly may have overgrown nails.

Death as beauty

A pet's body usually a beautiful story full of ups and downs; of owners doing things wrong and then doing things right. A vulture or an artist can read a body like rings on a tree and feel the heart beat in their chest that tells them how strong and full of love this life had been. You need to be ready for this part. Every detail is a message from your fellow human and even though we are all animals and we decompose into the same dirt, we're meant to connect to each other here and now.

Keep your emotions open when working with remains.

Listen to what they have to teach you.

[irradiatedsnakes]

Hey dude! Someone in a discord server found a bird skull and foot (they think it's an eider duck), and was wondering how to go about cleaning them. Do you have any tips?

ohhh, very cool!! absolutely i do, here's a copypaste of a writeup i did over discord messages a billion years ago for a friend:

firstly: the book vulture culture 101 is spectacular and a comprehensive resource on like, all of this stuff. the ebook's like $10usd. however heres how i go from whole animal or raw skull to bright n shiny clean skulls:

-if your specimen is whole/still has skin and fur, skinning them will save you a lot of time and hassle. takes less time to decompose, and you won't have huge globs of fur in the way (keratin takes much longer to decompose than flesh!)

-if your specimen is now skinned but has all of its meats, you can speed up the process somewhat by.. i cant remeber the word, but basically cutting the big chunks of flesh (like the cheek area) away from the bone. this i totally optional though i almost never do it myself, it just lower the volume of meat that needs to decompose

-now ok. youve got your bones with flesh on them, or maybe you found some nature-cleaned bones that still have some bits and bobs on em. if it's the latter, you might just be able to soak it for a day or two and then pull off any remaining dried bits with tweezers or your fingers (or needlenose pliers. much stronger) and then go onto whitening, but if there's still a substantial amount of flesh:

-find a container with a lid that is big enough to comfortably hold your specimen. i use a storage bin, but depending on how small your specimen is you can use, like, a tupperware container.

-find a space outside where a smell isn't gonna be a big deal. even with a closed lid, there'll usually be a few feet radius that radiate some death rot smell. also, might wanna see if you can keep it protected in some way, especially if you have turkey vultures or other smell-hunting vultures (or other scent-hunting carrion eaters) around. ive had vultures try to break into my bins multiple times! a good sturdy closing lid keeps em out though

-place your specimen into the container, and fill it up with water. you can fill it up enough to cover the specimen entirely, but also, if you have a particularly fleshy specimen you can make the water go up almost all the way to the top, and then leave the lid off your bin for a couple hours (if you know nothing will snatch your specimen! might wanna like, babysit it) to allow flies to lay eggs. maggots will speed up the process a bunch! but either way, place the lid on your container and put it in the safe place. oh! and preferably, you want it somewhere warm, like in the sun.

-now you just wait! this method, maceration, takes a long time! but it produces the best quality bones. now, this step will vary on time based on how much you have to decompose and how hot it is (and whether you have maggot help or not), but heat's the biggest deciding factor. this process works by decomposer bacteria eating up all the flesh, and they work best in the heat! if you're doing this in late fall or winter, prepare to wait til summer arrives for any process. if you're in the height of summer, it might only take two weeks! but either way, youre gonna leave this out for weeks.

-basically depending on the heat, check it when you think its done. you'll know its done by the lack of flesh. the bone might still look dirty- they often become stained weird colors in this part. it's no big deal, it'll go away in the next step. also, teeth will fall out now, because theres little no no soft tissue keeping them in place. thats fine, just keep track of them! pay very close attention to when you pour out the water. incisors are so easy to lose. (also the rotwater is great fertilizer!)

-ok! so it's a couple months later and you have a fleshless skull (or whatever other bones) but it's very stinky and not clean. firstly youre gonna wanna give it a rinse (outside. don't bring this into your home yet. it smells like rot) very carefully, as not to lose any teeth.

-you want another container big enough for your specimen, now. can be the same container if you clean it out very well, but i prefer to have dedicated rot buckets. you may need to degrease your specimen, or you can move straight to whitening.

-how do you know if you need to degrease? fatty substances in the flesh can be present in the bone, as grease. this will discolor certain parts of the bone (or rarely, all of it) and make those areas look yellowed and sort of oily. if it's just a spot or two and the discoloration doesn't bother you, you don't have to remove it. but if it's a substantial amount it's gonna make the bone look dirty, and in high amounts can also stink. not a rot stink, it's not nearly that bad, but a sort of musty smell.

-grease in the bone is most common in especially fatty animals. anything domestic is likely to have grease, as are very fatty animals like raccoons (raccoons have SO much fat. i skinned one once and its like, ridiculously big layer of fat under their skin.). ive personally had grease problems with coyotes and felines.

-to degrease, you need that container again, and some dish soap! preferably the clear stuff, you don't want to end up staining the specimen. put your specimen in the container and fill it up with water so its covered, and pour some dish soap in there. swish it round so its all mixed in, and put the container back in the warm spot. this process is also heat dependent!

-now you wait again. every two or so weeks, check, and maybe change out the water and soap. your judgement as to when its done. basically you just want those greasy spots gone when the specimens dry!

-next up is WHITENING! this is where you START if you have an already fleshless specimen! all you need for this one is hydrogen peroxide, the 3% stuff you can get cheap at any drug or grocery store. ive found that due to pandemic reasons the peroxide supply at a lot of places has been depleted, but it's mmmostly better by now. you still might have some trouble finding it.

-put your specimen in the container and fill with peroxide enough to cover it. it'll probably start fizzing! the peroxide reacts with organic bits like microscopic amounts of grease in the bone and like, cleans it out. leave it in for a few days to a week, then check.

-if it's still too yellow for your tastes, change out the peroxide and leave it in for another few days. (note, the bone will be more yellow when it's wet- it gets whiter as it dries) if it's white to your liking, take it out, and leave it on a paper towel to dry.

-once dry, you can glue your teeth back in. i use hot glue most of the time, because its very forgiving and easy to undo, but note that if you ever plan on putting the specimen into water again like to degrease it in the future, you might wanna use something like superglue instead. just be...very cautious of mistakes. once i put in my otter's canine tooth backwards. like, tip in the socket, root facing outwards. always do a test fit right before you put the glue on, so you know youve got the angle right so you can put it in right, before the glue dries. also, you only need a TINY bit of glue per tooth.

plus bird feet, depending on how fatty/fleshy they are, can also be dried by posing them and burying them in borax for a while! i do that to preserve chicken feet without skeletonizing them.

i would also ask them to make sure that their collection of this bird is legal- im pretty sure in places where the migratory bird treaty act applies (usa, canada, mexico, japan, and russia) eiders are protected, and as such owning their parts is illegal and can carry a very hefty fine. should be fine in europe, though, to my knowledge. eiders have a huuuge range :P

[ozarkthedog]

Steve gets a BJ

Summary: You give Steve a blowjob for the first time. He cums a lot.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x You

Warnings: Explicit- Oral Sex (male receiving), Dirty Talk, Copious Amount of Cum

Author’s Note: I had this idea in my head for a while. It’s much longer than I thought it’d be and went places I didn’t think it would. It’s nasty and I loved writing it.

Word Count: 1,894

No Beta, only me. Find me on AO3.

Tagging blogs who were interested in this prompt at the bottom.

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and comments are encouraged!

“Steve, come on! Let me make you feel good.” You say as you brush your fingers through Steve’s long dirty blonde hair. You’ve enjoyed his “Nomad” look. Everyone jokingly calls him “Nomad” as of late. It’s sweet to see him blush a bit, but you know he likes how rugged he looks.

Steve scratches at his beard as he ponders your excited face. “I don’t know sweetheart. There is certainly no pressure on my part for you to do this.”

“But I want to! I think you’ll enjoy it.” You reassure him and slide your hands down to his chin for a passionate kiss. His beard is prickly, but soft when your hands wander away and wrap around his neck to pull your body closer. Steve’s hand find solace at your hips and squeeze earning him a soft moan from you.

He stares down at your hips, noticing how they seem to be grinding against his awakening cock. “Really? You really want to give me a blow job?” he asks skeptically.

You whisper in his ear, low and sultry, “I want to watch you squirm, Captain.”

The gasp from him made you bite your lip and rub your thighs together, already getting wet at the thought of finally getting your mouth and hands on him.

He brought his hand to you chin and locked eyes with you. He looked at you with such sweet eyes, and smiles. “Ok, sweetheart.”

You squeal with glee and lean in to kiss him hard. Teeth clashing, lips are bitten and red.

As you slide down him to the floor, he stops you with strong hands gripping your waist.

He looked around the room, before turning his eyes to you. He seemed flustered, but he went on. “I do have to warn you, the serum has made my seed… There is quite a lot of it when I orgasm.”

Curious, but not surprised, you figured the serum did make everything bigger. “That’s ok, Steve. I want to taste you. I want all you have to offer.” Wanting to make him feel not so anxious about his body. You want him to focus on what you’re going to do to him.

You wiggle down to the floor and unbuckle his worn leather belt and slowly unzip his jeans. His Dark Blue Calvin Klein boxers are already tented and warm as you move your hand over his hard cock.

Sliding your hand underneath the boxers you grasp him in your hand. You both groan with lust. He helps you take off his boxers and jeans, and lets you get settled right between his tree truck thighs.

Steve is uncut and thick. You most definitely need two hands for this. You slowly slide your hands down the shaft, maintaining the slightest pressure. Your fingertips meet each other around his thick cock. At the base you grasp a bit harder and drag your hand back to the now reddish head circling it in your fist. “Fuck. I love seeing your hands on my cock.” He moans out.

You bit your lip at his words as you lean forward to give him a long lick from base to tip. His whole body shudders. You keep licking all up and down his shaft, wanting to get him nice and wet. Moving your hands down to his soft balls, you open your lips and take the weeping, engorged head into your mouth.

Your tongue laps at his precum while you grasp his cock harder in your right hand as your left gives his balls a soft tug.

The moan he lets out goes straight to your soaked pussy. Deep, gravely with a hint of desperation.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That feels so good.” He grunts out as he runs his fingers through your hair. He gathered some up in his fist, not moving you, just holding you steady.

You love getting him to swear. You try to do it as often as you can. Opening your mouth wider you take as much of him in your mouth as you can. Sadly, you have to use your hands at the base because you cannot swallow his whole cock. That certainly doesn’t make you not want to keep trying as you gag yourself on him.

He pants out “Yes, that’s it. Oh god.” As his head falls back in awe. You swirl your tongue up and around his cock head. Staying there for a beat to just suck on it while looking at him. He picks his head up and your eyes meet. He bites his lip, let’s out a little hint of a whimper and furrows his brows in pleasure.

You get bold and swallow him down again. You try to relax your throat around his cock. With one hand still locked in your hair; he moves his right one down to your neck. “Is this ok?” he asks you with uncertainty.

You moan out as you feel his large hand apply pressure around the back of your neck. Almost like he wants to keep your mouth on him forever. He takes your moan as a yes and precedes to just hold you on his cock. Feeling your mouth and throat convulse around him, he grits his teeth and growls.

He allows you some air through your nose after a few seconds. He doesn’t allow your mouth the leave him. He pushes you back down quickly and holds you there again.

You start to shift your body around trying to grind down on anything to satiate the growing need coming from your cunt.

Steve notices your antsy movements and slides his thick, hairy leg between yours. You unabashedly grind down on his naked shin. “Is that better, Sweetheart? Mmph, are you getting wet just from sucking my cock? God, you really do enjoy having my dick in your mouth.” Your moans are getting louder as you full on grind your pussy down onto his leg.

“That’s ok, Little One. Take your pleasure, but don’t forget why you’re on your knees in the first place.” He says sternly. He wants you to make him cum. He wants to see you struggle to swallow all of him.

The new nickname has you close to seeing stars. You start to feel tingles up your spine and love the feeling the name leaves in your brain.

Steve is fucking into your throat as deep as he can. Grabbing at the base of your neck harshly with both hands, fingertips press close you your carotid artery. Your cunt releases more slick knowing Steve wants to truly control your breaths.

He doesn’t try to cut off your blood flow. He’s going to save that for another day.

Feeling your gag reflex kick back in, he lets you up, allowing your mouth to finally leave his cock.

He cradles your head in his hands, pushing his thumb into your mouth. Pushing back enough to make more saliva pool at the back of your throat. “Don’t fret if you can’t swallow all of my cum. We will work on it.”

He brings your head back down on his cock forcefully. You grasp both hands around his base and stroke up and down steadily, wanting to see him orgasm. You forget all about your own pleasure for now, wanting to taste him completely.

“Keep grinding that sweet cunt on my leg, Little One. But don’t cum.” He grunts out, his hands are back in your hair, tugging harder.

You whimper but follow his instructions. You feel the rough material of your panties glide so easily over your soaked slit. You can’t hold back the moans, making his cock vibrate. You go all in wanting to see him cum more than anything. You gather up more spit, making such a mess.

“Ah, fuck, I’m going to cum.” He yanks your head back just so the cock head sits in your mouth. His body stills, and then you feel the first wave of cum hit your tongue.

“That’s it. Take my cum. Uhhh, fuck, yes.” He keeps holding your head as you pump his cock.

It’s so thick. Unlike any cum you’ve tasted before. Salty, sweet, with a tiny hint of bitterness. Your body instinctively swallows, as another spurt of thick, white cum fills your mouth. You groan out, some slipping out of the corners of your mouth. Steve is still moaning aloud. “Good girl. Swallow what you can. It’s ok, Little One.” As he wipes at the corners of your mouth, trying to push his cum back into your already full mouth.

It’s overwhelming, but it ignites something in you. Wanting more, you keep stroking his cock as he looks down at you. He smiles as another spurt of cum fills your mouth, filling it up again. It felt like glue was coating your entire mouth and throat. You savor the taste and try to drink him down as best you can.

His cum starts leaking down his shaft as your hands were getting covered in it still pumping him. It made his cock so much slicker. Your hands gripping harder and faster, you open your mouth wide and suck him into your mouth, going down as far as you can.

“Oh god, you are such a Good girl trying to drink my cum down. Get your fill, you Dirty Girl.” He says gruffly.

Letting the final wave of cum fill your mouth, you swallow most of it as you let out a satisfied moan. Steve takes his hands off your head and allows you to lift your head off his cum covered cock.

You look down at the scene in front of you. “Nomad” Steve with a blissful, lust filled face staring you down lovingly. His cum is everywhere. Covering his cock, your hands and running down your chin.

He speaks up after a quiet pause, sounding unsteady “Was that ok? Was that it too much?”

Still in shock from what you just experienced, all you could do was smile, and bring your hands up to lick away the cum that had fallen. He smiles, leans his head back onto the couch and just watches you with amazement. It makes you wonder if other girls he’s been with have not enjoyed giving him a blow job.

You ask softly if you could clean his cock off and he goes to get up saying that he could do it.  Stopping him by putting your hands on his chest, you place you hand around the base of his cock. You kitten lick away the cum that has spilled all over. A deep, low groan of approval slips from his lips as he shuts his eyes. You speak softly, “I absolutely loved giving you a blow job, Steve. I love making you feel good. I want to always make you feel good.” You see him smile and hum in contentment. Relief flooding his system.  

After cleaning up all the thick cum, you push yourself back sliding your cunt across his leg, forgetting that you were so close to coming moments ago.  “Oh!” you squeal out from the shocks of pleasure.

“Awe, Little One, do you want to cum?” he says condescendingly while leaning forward to give you a kiss on the forehead. He sits back and says firmly, “Now, let’s see how much of a mess you can make.”

                                                      The End

@howdoyousleep3​ @chiffoun​ @evansweaters​

[mintymiknow]

Trust Fall - ch. 9 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: Are you ready to open up to Minho, or does all the effort and time still remain futile in an attempt to open your heart? Something between the two of you begins to shift, but are you ready?

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 5k

Warnings for this chapter: The mc talks about death/someone dying, but nothing is described in graphic

A/N: Surprise! Here’s another update for the series. I seem to have underestimated my current semester...I’ll be way busier in the coming days and weeks, so updates might take longer than usual now. So sorry. To make up for it, here’s ch. 9 with some swoon moments. I hope to update more, but in the case I get swamped with work, I do apologize for delays. Anyway, enjoy this for now! Again, take note that the scientific and medical things mentioned here may not be accurate or realistic, so don’t take them to heart or something hahaha!

[A/N: the italicized parts are essentially a flashback or recollection of events until the paragraphs become un-italicized again!]

After having your cut disinfected and cleaned in the medical wing - by yours truly, of course - you then proceed to the other medical room where Minho went for treatment. You’re just about to approach the door when you hear muffled voices - Minho and Seungmin.

“You got pretty beat up this time, huh?” Seungmin muses, “Last time you were injured to this extent was what? When you and Jeongin went in blindly into the den of gangs last year?”

Minho laughs tiredly, “Yeah? Well, her safety was my priority this time.”

“Romantic.” the doctor teases before comically letting out a grunt as Minho presumably smacked his arm or whatever.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, but you shake any weird thoughts away and steel yourself. No time for useless and fluttery “feelings”. You and Minho were being professional, that’s it. You open the door to see Seungmin givin the agent the usual instructions for cleaning and taking care of the injuries he received from the fight prior. Afterwards, he turns around to leave the room, eyes finally falling on you.

“Hi, y/n. Were you able to find the things to tend to your wound?” Seungmin offers a smile.

You nod and smile back, “Yes, thank you.”

“Alright.” the doctor says, approaching the doorway, “Glad you’re safe.”

You give him a soft hum before stepping out of the way so he could walk. Once Seungmin leaves the room, you turn to Minho who is much too preoccupied with looking at the bandages on his torso. It was as if he was too bashful to look you in the eye - were his cheeks actually a shade of pink right now?

He probably knew you were outside when he said things to Seungmin but realized too late that you were just behind the door. If that were the case, why was he embarrassed? Again, you shove those thoughts to the deepest crevice in your mind.

Slowly, you approach the agent and clear your throat. “Are you ok?” you ask timidly.

Minho hums, finally looking up to meet your eyes. They’re tired, you can tell, but the glimmer in them doesn’t waver; you wished you were like that too. “This is nothing.” he replies, nodding his head towards you, “I should be asking you that question.”

You nod, releasing a heavy sigh; that’s all you do in response, and Minho drops the conversation all together. He stands up, lightly patting your shoulder as he walks past you. “Get some sleep, y/n. You need it.” he says.

“So do you.”

“I need to report to Jung.” the agent says flatly, putting a new shirt back on, “I’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried.” you nearly pout, narrowing your eyes in exasperation.

At this, Minho has to stifle a teasing chuckle, “Fine, whatever. Just get some rest, alright?”

You nod, and Minho takes it as his sign to leave, walking out of the medical room with his hands shoved in his jean pockets. You watch him leave, trying to comprehend why your heart was beating so fast all of a sudden.

You're brought back from your daze when one of the lab equipments rings with a slight dinging sound, alerting you that a test had just finished. You unintentionally jolt in surprise, blinking your eyes a few times to regain your composure. You then glide the wheeled stool over to the far end of the table to retrieve the paper that had printed from the test equipment.

“Hmm.” you hum to yourself, scanning the sheet of paper with your eyes.

You continue to tinker with the red substance from the vial, running tests and combining it with other chemicals to observe specific reactions. You note everything down, unceasingly performing experiments. At some point, you combine the red substance with a few formulas before adding in a drop of liquid from the original serum Cle was currently trying to produce - this was the same serum you had kept hidden from the agents from way back.

As you glue your eyes to your experiment, they widen in surprise as some sort of chemical reaction happens. The liquids combine and fizzle for a few seconds; the red formula mixes with the bronze liquid of the serum, turning into something more copper-like. However, the warm-colored swirls begin to disappear, drastically changing the mixture into a faded yellow color akin to very diluted urine - the liquid was now essentially transparent, save for the subtle tint of yellow.

Your mouth opens slightly, leaning closer to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. If this is what resulted from what you were conducting, that meant you were super close to finally finding the solution. What about that red liquid was so special? You wanted to find out, so you grab another petri dish to put drops of red liquid in, getting ready to examine it under the microscope.

That is, until the door slides open, and a familiarly smooth voice says, “What are you up to?”

Your heart leaps out of your chest, eyes wide as your body tenses. Unclenching your jaw, you swivel in the stool to face the handsome agent, “Going through the samples we got from the last mission.”

Minho hums, eyes scanning the items on the lab table. “Where are Jisung and Seungmin then? Why are you alone?” he asks.

You shrug, “I work better when I’m alone. Please just trust me on this.”

Minho raises an eyebrow before sighing as if he were too tired. Well, his face was still littered with injuries, so you assume he still was tired. “As much as I’d want nothing but to speed things up, you are supposed to be working with your team, y/n.” he says.

“I know.” you start, gesturing around the table, “But I’ll give all my findings and reports to them after. I always do.”

Minho looks at you in a deadpan manner but decides to let you off the hook. Instead, he asks, “What did you find then?”

“Well…” you trail off, still unwilling to tell him everything - just in case, right? You continue, “I have a very big feeling - and I am confident - that these substances are key substances to formulating a solution. Just...give me more time to study them.”

“Good enough.” Minho offers a small smile before playfully flicking your forehead, “Now, I came to tell you to rest. Jung wants you to accompany us on another mission.”

“Why am I needed?” you glare, rubbing the area on your head where he flicked.

Minho answers, “It’s a ball or gala of sorts, and Jung thinks your credentials will allow us easy access into the VIP guest list. Hyunjin somehow managed to come up with some esteemed political cover too.”

You cast your eyes to the floor, involuntary shivering at the thought of having to go on another mission. The last one wasn’t the most pleasant one after all.

The agent isn’t blind to your apprehension; he completely understands and sympathizes with you, in fact. He then reaches a hand out to rest on your head, lighting ruffling your hair. “I promise no harm will come your way.” he gently smiles, but there’s a confidence to it as well, “I’ll keep you safe, promise.”

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes still hold their distinct mysteriousness, but you can clearly see the swirls of certainty and warmth in them. It prompts a small blossom of trust, blooming within the dark corners of your heart. You end up sighing and nodding your head, “Fine.”

“Good. Get rested; we leave tomorrow at 4:00 PM.” he smiles once more before making his leave so casually.

You glare and pout, thinking to yourself, “That stupid agent...”

You bite your lip, glancing at your phone laying on the table before your eyes quickly shift to the vial of the now nearly transparent liquid from your tests and experiments.

With a sigh, you squeeze your eyes shut, “This will be the last, I promise.”

Minho doesn’t really understand why his cheeks are so flushed right now as he stands in front of your bedroom door, hand poised to knock on the surface. His eyebrow twitches nervously, but he steels himself and proceeds to knock either way. A few seconds pass, but you don’t respond. Surely, you were back in your room at this time right? He did tell you to rest.

Minho knocks again, sighing when you don’t respond once more. “Dr. Song?” he calls, but no reply.

“Y/n?” he tries, but alas, nothing again.

He didn’t want to resort to it since he knew you valued your privacy, but his mind went into overdrive at your non-response. He scans his own ID in your door’s digital lock, a beeping sound ringing lightly before the lock makes a clicking sound. The agent slowly pushes the door open, being cautious just in case you were dressing or in the shower. When he’s sure you’re not even inside, he sighs and visibly relaxes.

He looks around the room before looking at the photo in his hand. He was supposed to return it to you from the other day it dropped from your notebook, but he had forgotten. Now that he remembered, you weren’t in your room. Minho ended up thinking you were still with Jisung, so he got his phone and navigated to send you a text.

Coincidentally, he received a text from you at that moment.

Song y/n: Agent Lee, I’ve gone out for dinner and coffee. I also told Chan in advance, so please don’t worry. I’ll be back right after.

Lee Minho: Is that so? Are you alone?

Song y/n: Yes, but don’t worry, I didn’t go far.

Lee Minho: Fine

Afterwards, the agent goes to his conversation with another fellow agent and texts him.

Minho: You let y/n go out?

Chan: Uh...yes. Why?

Minho: Chan…

Chan: Haha, I know Minho. But there’s no harm in it, right? Maybe she got sick of the cafeteria food. She promised to be back soon anyway. Remember...trust her.

Minho: I know but still. Now isn’t the time.

Chan: If you’re so worried, go after her. Lix can track her phone for you.

And without a second of hesitation, Minho leaves your room and heads straight to the tech department in search for a certain freckled agent.

Meanwhile, you’re seated in front of a familiar face, eating cheesecake and drinking coffee. The figure chuckles, an amused smile on his face, “Cheesecake isn’t dinner, y/n. You need more than that.”

You sigh, raising an eyebrow, “We’ve had worse things for dinner in the hospital, Hyunbin.”

The male doctor shrugs, smirking, “Admittedly, that’s true.”

“Well, I didn’t call you here to lecture me about dinner habits.” you laugh, leaning forward on the table.

“You miss me?” Hyunbin jokes heartily.

You laugh a bit louder, shaking your head, “Hardly.”

“Alright then little miss doctor.” Hyunbin playfully wiggles his eyebrows, “Why did you want to meet?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?”

You sigh, slightly deflating in your seat. “It’s about work. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I needed your input because you’re still better at chemistry than I am.” you lightly chuckle.

Hyunbin chuckles as well, crossing his arms, “That I do not deny. Well, fire away. What do you need?”

“My job right now requires me to...test certain formulas, and one particular formula I managed to dig out was for fluoroantimonic acid - you know, the strongest acid.” you start to explain, careful to say parts of the truth, but also not everything, “I mixed something in the formula, and the overall structure changed. It was barely an acid afterwards.”

“Polytetrafluoroethylene.” you both say in unison.

Your eyes widen in curiosity, and Hyunbin can’t help but chuckle, “PTFE is used for storing superacids such as fluoroantimonic acid, right?”

“Yes, exactly.” you nod enthusiastically, “So, I am right in concluding that that particular chemical reaction happened because of the PTFE...right?”

Hyunbin hums, leaning back on his chair, “I believe so. In liquid or powder form, I think PTFE is more than enough to create such reactions in superacids.”

You release a sigh of relief, leaning back on your chair as well, “Amazing.”

Hyunbin laughs, tilting his head, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and laugh, “It’s just a relief to know that I’m doing an...alright job in work.”

“You always do, what are you talking about?” the male laughs.

“Whatever.”

For the next few minutes, you and Hyunbin then converse and catch up with each other, reminiscing about memories in the hospital and so on. After about 30 minutes, Hyunbin excuses himself as he needed to get back to his shift. You also explain that you have to head back to work. When the male doctor leaves the coffee shop, you step out a few minutes later.

You’d be on your way back to HQ, but a certain black-shirt-wearing male with his arms crossed blocks your path.

You curse in your mind.

“Minho.”

“Y/n.”

The agent glances sidewards, nodding his head towards a figure that had just entered his car. “So...dinner alone, huh?” he says a bit hostile.

You sigh, closing your eyes, “I know what you’re gonna say, so don’t bother. I’m sorry I lied, but I knew neither of you were going to let me have dinner with him.”

Minho sighs, lips twisting into a disappointed frown, “You could have tried.”

“We both know what your answer is gonna be.”

“What did you guys do? Talk about?” Minho then shifts the conversation.

You don’t bat an eye as you answer the male, “Hospital stuff. Catching up on how work was in Gongjak. Talking about old memories we miss.”

Minho hums, unfolding his arms, “And speaking of memories…”

The agent then pulls something from his wallet, handing you a small photo. Your eyes widen upon landing on the picture, and when you take it from the agent, you look at him in confusion, “How…”

Minho’s expression softens, though you know he’s still a bit annoyed. “I think you dropped it the other day in the lab. Not sure how though.” he explains.

You slowly nod, eyes glued to the polaroid photo, “Oh. Thank you.”

“The guy is obviously your friend, but who’s the other woman?” Minho asks, “Must have been close for you to go all the way here to meet with Dr. Kang to reminisce on stuff.”

You glare at the male, appalled by the callous tone in his voice. “Yes, we were very close as a matter of fact. Closer than sisters.” you huff out, willing your tears to retreat.

Minho glances at his watch before sighing, “Want to take a walk?”

“What?”

“You look like you need the fresh air.” Minho offers an apologetic smile.

“Ok.” you say softly.

And so you and Minho end up casually walking along a nearby park, letting yourselves relish in the calming wind and basking in the moonlight.

“Hyunbin or Dr. Kang and Ahn Hyejoo - the woman in the picture - were my closest friends in Gongjak.” you suddenly say, quiet enough for only Minho to hear, “After I left SKZ, the three of us started working in Gongjak at the same time. Basically, we entered the hospital together.”

Minho looks at you earnestly, choosing to listen quietly. It wasn’t everyday you’d actually open up, after all. You continue to speak, eyes filled with a certain gloominess, “Hyunbin came from a smaller hospital at that time, and Hyejoo had just finished her training or residency. The three of us had similar shift times and worked in the same hospital floors or area, so eventually, we became friends. As you probably know, I had a difficult time opening up to other people after SKZ, but those two managed to help me through it.”

“Dr. Kang is still in Gongjak.” Minho treads carefully, “Where’s Dr. Ahn?”

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” you smile sadly as if remembering a distant memory, “She got into an accident but somehow, her heart survived. So...in a way, she’s gone, but I know her heart was donated to someone who needed it so somehow, she’s still alive. It’s weird, but that’s the world of medicine I guess. No matter what happens, us doctors keep people alive as best as we can.”

Minho can’t help the smile that curls at his lips, specks of adoration and warmth swimming in his eyes as he looks at you. You’ve both now made it back to his car, merely standing by the passenger’s side. The wind howls by, scattering strands of your hair across your face. Minho chuckles softly, reaching out to tuck the stray strands behind your ear; his fingers ghost over the shell of your ear, and you can feel the warmth of his skin.

Your heart hammers in your chest as Minho looks down at you; his features are softened by the soft glow of the moon, and you can’t help but think about how ethereal he looks right now. The male agent’s lips curl into a smaller smirk, “I guess Jung was right.”

You tilt your head, accidentally leaning into Minho’s hand by your ear. He then chuckles, smirk replaced by a small smile, “You certainly are one of a kind.”

And then his hand is gone, and he’s walking towards the driver’s side. You stand there, speechless at his actions and gape like a fish. “Hey...Lee Minho!” you stutter.

“Get in the car, Dr. Song. We should get back and rest.”

“I want to strangle you.”

“How cute.”

Mission day commences, and you and the other agents have gathered in a luxurious function hall in yet another five-star hotel. Apparently, a Cle agent was attending the gala to meet with a prospective serum buyer. The agents needed to infiltrate the Cle person’s hotel room where, as per intel, his papers and plans were being held.

Minho, Jeongin and Chan were to loiter in the gala hall, eyes scanning the crowd for signs of the target. Changbin and Hyunjin would handle getting into the room when the time was right. You were there to ease suspicion as your credentials landed your group a place on the VIP list.

So here you were, dressed in a pretty white dress, hanging back by the wall and sipping some champagne with the three agents. Chan sipped on his champagne glass as well, sighing, “I want this whole mission to be over so we can celebrate and drink champagne comfortably in HQ…”

Jeongin chuckles, “You say that during every mission.”

The eldest agent shrugs, “My point still stands.”

Minho smiles, adjusting the vest of his three-piece suit. “But you’re drinking champagne now.” he laughs.

“Barely taking sips.” Chan laughs, “We’re on duty, so we can’t risk too much alcohol.”

Jeongin then smiles, clasping his hands together, “Well then, time to split up.”

Chan and Minho nod, and before you know it, the three agents are scattering amongst the crowd. Chan goes towards the other end of the hall, blending in by talking to two women who more or less giggle at everything the dimpled man says. Jeongin heads over to the refreshments table, pretending to be knowledgeable on all the wine as a middle-aged man approaches him. Slowly, the orchestra begins to play some classical music, and the gala-goers are either ballroom dancing or engage in conversation amongst themselves.

Minho takes the champagne glass from your hand and places it on the tray of a waiter that passed by. You look at the agent with a tilt of your head, and he smiles, “Shall we dance?”

“I’m a horrible dancer.”

“Just follow my lead.”

You pout at the male, but he merely laughs and takes your hand, smoothly dragging you to the area where other guests are dancing. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close much to your surprise. His other hand gently grasps your own, giving it a light squeeze. Without much choice, you squeeze back as your other hand rests on his shoulder. Soon, you’re both smoothly swaying to the music.

“I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting agents to know how to dance as well.” you playfully jab, “Are you trained to do everything in existence?”

Minho smirks, “Not exactly. We just pick up on it especially on undercover missions.”

“I think I’ve watched too many James Bond movies.” you tease.

“Oh? So you like those debonair types, huh?” Minho teases back.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’m just trying to see if they depict agents accurately.”

“50/50.” Minho laughs, “Do you want me to start acting like James Bond?”

You raise an eyebrow playfully, “And end up with me in your hotel bed? No thanks.”

The agent laughs again, playfully pinching your cheek, “Why, what a mind you have, dear doctor.”

“It’s true! Have you not watched any of the movies?” you laugh while trying to defend yourself.

You aren’t sure how the conversation moves along, but somehow, you both end up talking about the previous mission - the one where he had gotten hurt to protect you. While dancing to the orchestra’s music, you don’t miss out on how Minho pulls you closer, giving your waist a very subtle squeeze.

“You know…” he trails off, “I’m rarely a shaken or anxious person, but the day of that mission, I was genuinely frazzled.”

“Why?” you ask quietly.

“Because it’s my duty to keep you safe as an agent of SKZ” is what he wants to say - to pretend he doesn’t genuinely care and hide everything under the guise of obligation.

But he lets something else slip past his lips just this once.

“Because I was afraid you’d get hurt.” he says while staring directly into your eyes.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you try your best to remain calm. “Isn’t that...normal for people you’re working with in your field of work?”

“As skilled as people think I am, anything is possible. The people that attacked us could have killed me and hurt you. Taken you hostage or brought you to Cle.” Minho starts, “I didn’t want that.”

You hum, “Is this what Jeongin meant when you’re nicer and much more caring than you seem?”

Minh chuckles airily, and suddenly, all other noise is drowned out. “This is me showing you the side of me that only Chan and the rest are privileged to see.”

“Why though?” your voice nearly wavers as you notice how Minho lets go of your hand, both of his arms now around your waist.

“Because I trust you.”

You gulp, slowly but surely wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why?” you repeat your question, afraid of his answer. Or worse, afraid of his decision. 

“Because I can.” Minho answers with confidence, “I want you to know that I trust you so that you can trust me as well. I don’t even need you to trust the whole of SKZ. Just me, Chan and the other boys at least.”

You nod, but before you can speak or make any response, Jeongin speaks into his communication device, and you can somehow tell he’s grinning as he does so, “Target spotted. Shall we set the plan in motion?”

“Got it. We’re on standby now.” Minho says, looking past your shoulder to observe the crowd.

Somewhere in the room, Jeongin has managed to engage in conversation with their target, a bit too enthusiastically talking about the wine in their hands.

“I do prefer white wine.” Joengin laughs with practice, “Lighter and sweeter, you know?”

The target hums and smiles unknowing, “Perhaps, but red wine is much better suited for meat.”

“Oh, steaks and such? You’re a man of fine dining, I see!” Jeongin laughs, “Expensive taste.”

“Hardly. I just see it in cooking channels all the time. Makes me really hungry honestly.” the target points out before sipping his red wine.

Jeongin nods, but afterwards, Chan arrives at the scene and pretends to trip, thus dowsing his own glass of red wine on their target. The eldest agent feigns innocence as he gasps and repeatedly apologizes, “I am so sorry, my goodness! Sorry about that, mister!”

Jeongin pretends to watch in shock, grabbing a bunch of table napkins and dabbing it onto the spilled area on the target’s white dress shirt. “Oh dear, oh dear.” Jeongin sing-songs.

The target awkwardly laughs, gently pushing the two males away from him, “Don’t worry, um...I’ll just get changed. It’s just a stain. I have some clothes in my room, so if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, the target hurriedly makes his leave, and Jeongin smiles a bit too mischievously. “Target is on his way.” he says into his device.

A few seconds later, Hyunjin and Changbin speak into their own devices, “Got it. We’re on stand-by.”

Silence ensues as your dancing slows, no longer ballroom dancing but just subtly swaying to the music. Minho’s arms are secure around your waist just as yours are around his neck. Somewhere along the way, you rest your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat - steady just like he always was. Minho rests his head on top of yours as well, allowing himself to melt and relax with you in his arms.

Never did he think he’d let himself do such a thing. If Chan and Jeongin could see this, they were probably stifling their snickers.

“Minho.” you suddenly say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“I...have to tell you something.” you say, unconsciously hugging him closer.

You can feel Minho nodding for you to continue, so you slowly lift your head from his chest to look at him. Your eyes quiver and you have to swallow a ball-sized lump in your throat for you to gather the courage to speak again.

“I’ve been hiding some findings and results from you and the team.” you admit, closing your eyes guiltily, “And one or two vials of evidence.”

You expect Minho to scowl and glare at you coldly, maybe drag you out of the hall to lecture you once again. You, however, do not expect him to hold you closer, inching his face closer just to whisper between yourselves. “I’m not surprised, y/n. I had a hunch that’s what was going on.” he says, and you can swear you hear a sense of amusement in his voice.

You open your eyes to look back at him, furrowed eyebrows expressing your surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re not the best liar, y/n.” Minho chuckles, “Though of course you aren’t. You hate lying. I sort of knew all along that there were things you were hiding from me, but Chan asked me to be more understanding of your reasons, and I trust Chan more than anyone, so I decided to listen to him and wait for you to admit it yourself.”

The look of embarrassment that flashes across your face puts a cheeky smile on Minho’s lips before he shifts into a more serious expression. “I do have to ask why though.” he says.

You sigh, looking down at the floor. You’ve both now stopped dancing altogether, merely standing in each other’s arms amongst the busy crowd of guests. “I didn’t know who to trust with this information. The things I’ve discovered could potentially put an end to this Cle serum issue, but I just...couldn’t risk it.”

Minho continues to look down at you expectantly. You clear your throat and bow your head lower, “Sorry, I know you just said you trusted me.”

You feel fingers on your chin, lifting it up to bring you face-to-face with the male. Your eyes meet Minho’s, and there’s some sort of cosmic dance between you two. With raised and expectant eyebrows, Minho whispers, “I’ll let it slide for now since you told me this soon, but please, y/n, refrain from doing that ever again.”

“I know. I’m sorry again.”

He sighs, nodding in acknowledgement. Another blanket of silence covers the two of you despite the orchestra still playing music and other guests chattering with each other.

“Thank you.” Minho suddenly whispers, and it only dawns on you now that he’s mere centimeters away from your face.

He’s so close that you feel his breath mingling with yours, the tips of your noses barely touching. His hands rest at the small of your back, but there’s a certain pressure to his touch as if he was restraining himself from something. Your breathing comes to a stop as does time, and your grip on his broad shoulders tightens. Both your eyes are lidded as you stare at each other; you can tell his eyes have landed on your lipstick-covered lips, and the agent can deduce the same for you - your eyes are definitely caught up in looking at his own lips.

Something in your heart booms - or maybe snaps - and it would seem the same for Minho because he’s leaning closer, eyes now closed as he closes the gap. You shut your eyes as well, preparing yourself for the touch of his lips on yours.

You soon feel the ghosting touch of his lips grazing yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your veins. But just as soon as your lips barely touch, the sound of his communication device going on surprises both of you, and you abruptly pull away from each other.

Embarrassment floods both of you; your cheeks are a shade of deep pink as Minho’s ears turn bright red. Clearing his throat, the agent listens to what his fellow agents have to say. “Target apprehended. We’re in his room. 1117.” Hyunjin says slyly, and it probably was because he was smirking.

“On the way.” Jeongin and Chan say simultaneously.

Minho turns to you, all remnants of flusteredness now gone. “Let’s go.” he says, grabbing your wrist.

But you stop in your tracks, hesitation evident in your body language. Minho understands why, so he offers you a small smile. “Y/n, this time, I promise. No one will harm you. I’m there, Chan’s there, Changbin’s there. Just stay with me, ok?” he says softly.

You eventually nod, answering him by giving him a small smile. Minho flashes one more warm smile before moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. With that, you both calmly proceed to the elevators to meet up with the other team members, his hand never leaving yours.

It’s all too familiar.

[bobdogdee1465]

Completely lost my trian of thought son needing tea after work phone call lol , something else I do besides the washing and cleaning , I want a holiday a cottage where I can sit with my dog and watch the sea crash against the sand , but its an impossible thing at the moment , lack of money , hospital tests , and those people who need you who never let you put of their sight and not for any reason other than the need to posses and own you . The fact is I live with family members who have mental health issues bi polar and personality disorder, and also autism and varients on the spectrum, so my life isn't mine it belongs to all those who need me or just need to know I'm close enough for them to to empty their anger and illness on me , it's ok their family and that's what you do for family, but I'm tired I'm sick I'm terminal if I'm honest and I'm dragging myself through the days feeling dimmer and dimmer , so yes I need a break I dream of sand and sea and little cotrages that are secluded and peaceful, I dream of walking with my dog and being able to glue parts of me back together , the thought of wind blowing through me on that secluded beach and mending myself is so addictive that each night I put my beach spunds on and imagine I'm there I almost feel the warm sand under my bare feet . I started sleeping on my sofa just so I could have the tv screen filled with images of the sea and the sounds echoing round me and lulling me to sleep , then become aware of my mind blacking that out with the endless lists of stuff to do things to be afraid of , people who are going to use their words to hurt ypu mentally that day , and how I have to be strong , strong enough to get through the day , mental illness is selfish its cruelty know no ends , I have spoken to people who are endlessly trying to get help and with all this new self awareness shit they sprout you'd think it would be readily available ha ha ha , just more charity's asking for cash for help that they can't really support, mental health isn't black and white its every colour of the rainbow and more , how can some newbie 20 plus year old offer you mental advoce when they Don't understand its many meandering levels, they hand out questionnaires asking on a scale of one to ten how your coping like mental health is something that gives that much cooperation, they might be a o e in the morning and a hundred ten minutes later a complacent questionnaire wont give them an idea but it cuts costs and qualifications needed.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Save Me Again•

Summary: Ouchies :/ some hurt+comfort with Kiri. Its a rough mission for Red Riot, his anxiety gets to him, you pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima x NBreader (both 18+)

Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, mentions of blood, death, grounding tactics (five senses method)

Word Count: 1,605

A/N: Wrote this with a big achey heart at five in the morning. It hurts. Sorry y'all lmao.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The images flashing on the television are nothing short of horrendous, they're devastating and gorey. It leaves you feeling painfully sick and hopeless. You cling to Eiji's shirt, crying into the fabric every time a life is lost. The anchorman is talking, but his words are lost somewhere between the speakers and your ringing ears.

A particularly gruesome death is shown, you feel your body sob, but again can't process any sound. Where is he? Where the hell is he?

The screen cuts to blue, some well worded message about sparing the audience of graphic content flashes on it.

You have to breathe, you have to keep moving, you have to focus. You can't though, your lungs won't fill, your body won't budge, and your brain won't settle.

He's ok. He's built for this.

-But, he's cities away, and you haven't heard from him or seen evidence of him on the news… so, what if he isn't ok?

Those villains weren't anything he hasn't faced before, but there were so many of them. More bloodthirsty than usual, more reckless. Now, with the stupid news cut off, you have to just wait and hope to whoever the hell is running this shitshow that Eiji is holding his own.

The secret feed. Fucking hell the secret news feed.

Being a loved one of a Pro, you're connected to a secret news feed that covers events like this uncensored. It's something his commission came up with, not long after you had your first severe panic attack from not knowing if he was alive or dead on a similar mission.

Your phone is torn from your pocket, thumbs flying with urgency as you pull up the feed.

With nearly supernatural timing, the camera pans to Eijirou, who's covered head to toe in ash, debris, and blood.

"Oh, baby…" You choke out, hand reaching for him subconsciously.

In his strong arms, wrapped in rock hard safety, is the limp body of a little boy. Blood seeps from an open gash on his head, it looks deep, it looks serious.

Eiji's face is hard to read, it always is when he's in mission mode. He looks focused, but shaken, resolute, but disturbed.

You watch as he brings the boy to a medic who promptly has him laid out on a stretcher. His pulse is checked, followed by a slow, mournful shake of the medics head.

Then Eijirou's face falls, you can see his heart shredding as if it's his own child laying there.

You cry for him, your heart cracks and falls apart as you watch him realize he was too late. You know what he's thinking, you know he doesn't think he's helping, or that he should even be there.

You know he doesn't think he's a Hero.

You watch helplessly as they stabilize the situation, capture the villains, and clean up the mess. Every time the camera is on Red, your heart breaks all over again. He's not doing well, the rock has been shaken.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

When the front door finally opens, you freeze completely. You should run to him, you should say something, but what would you do? What would you say?

So, you wait. You take in his battered form, the blood, the falling hair, the broken eyes. He shucks off as much of his hero gear as he can.

His eyes stay on the ground as he walks over to you with heavy feet. He slumps down on the couch, elbows on his knees as he buries his face in his filthy hands. He smells like battle, an almost offensive smell, but something you're used to.

After a tense moment of heavy silence, a trembling sob rattles through his exhausted body.

You want to throw yourself on him, wrap around him and coddle him, but you know you have to wait.

"Can I touch you?" You question softly, trying to remember all the steps you need to take to ground somebody when they're shaken up like this.

His only reply is grabbing you by the waist so he can pull you into his lap. His arms lock around your body, his face buried into your chest, and he just cries.

The cries turn to sobs that turn to screams. All sent somewhere deep inside you, somewhere dark and hopeless. Your fingers are in his hair, as soothing as they can be when you're shaking this much.

"I know, baby… I know." You whisper, tears covering your cheeks as you break with him.

"No." He chokes, he says it like he's fighting something, like he doesn't want it to happen.

"You don't know, nobody knows." It isn't accusatory, it isn't angry, it's just painful.

You wait for a moment, unsure of your footing, trying to calculate what to do next.

You have to diffuse somehow, you have to bring him back down. He's nearly hyperventilating, and you don't want him to go through a panic attack. You know you can handle him, but when Eiji panics, it does a real number on him.

"Honey, can you feel me?" You ask cautiously, digging your fingers into his matted hair, squeezing your body around his.

He nods as another gut wrenching sob rips from his throat.

"Ok, good, baby, that's good." You coax.

"You can hear my voice, right? Can I hear yours, please?"

He takes a moment to pull breath into the bottom of his lungs, pressing the side of his face against your sternum.

"I'm here. I'm right here." He answers, just like you practiced.

"Thank you, thank you for being here." You lean back slightly, a bit difficult with how tightly he's holding you. When he feels you shift away, his breathing picks up again, his hands hold on painfully and he shakes his head frantically.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. I'm not leaving." You reassure him, reaching for the water bottle on the table beside the couch.

You guide his face towards yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. He's a mess of tears and snot and blood. His eyes are more bloodshot than you've ever seen them, lips quivering, eyebrows drawn tight with anxiety.

It makes you want to cry as hard as he is, but you can't. If you cry, he'll want to save you, and he's done enough saving for today.

You bring the bottle to his lips, tipping it up and making him drink. He closes his eyes as he takes in the cold water, undoubtedly dehydrated.

"You can taste that, right?" You ask as you pull it away after a few long drinks.

He'll want to chug it, but he can't, it'll make his stomach hurt.

"I can." He answers, almost like a robot, but it's better than nothing.

"Thank you, Eiji, you're ok. I'm here." You remind him.

"Can I take your shirt off?" You ask.

He nods slowly, following the lead you've taken on the situation.

Your shirts are both discarded, as soon as you're rid of the fabric you grab the blanket off the back of the couch and throw it around your back before pressing your bare torsos together.

You've learned that skin to skin is the best way to ground him. As you expect, he melts into your warmth, bringing you back down against him so he can hide his face in your neck.

"You smell nice." He whispers, picking up the senses where you left off, it makes you swell with pride.

"Good, thank you baby, what else is there?" You prompt, willing him to keep going.

"I see our home." He sniffles.

"That's right. You're home. You have me. You're safe." You repeat it a few more times.

Between gentle touches, soft kisses, and extensive reassurance, his breathing settles and his tears stop falling.

"I don't think I should be out there." He finally whispers after several moments of slowly breathing together.

You don't answer, you don't combat it. You both know he should be out there, but you know he needs to get this out, so you let him.

"I couldn't even save one k-kid." The heartbreak in his eyes is immeasurable, inconsolable, it makes you fall apart in a thousand different ways.

You don't speak, you don't fabricate comfort with sweet words. You just let him cry again, full bodied into your neck. He'll do this a few times, settle then fall apart again. You'll be patient, sit there with your glue and tape and piece him back together.

"You saved me." You remind him quietly, recalling how you met.

He truly did, you were almost collateral damage, just another tally mark on the wall counting lives lost to villains. However, one Hero, one brilliant Hero, saved your poor civilian ass.

He pulls away to blink up at you, eyes swollen and wet, broken and searching.

"You saved me." He breathes.

Your forehead falls against his.

"We save each other. That's enough. You're doing enough." You assure him, knowing he needs to hear it.

The push and pull goes on for a little while, you let him break, you stitch him back up. You wipe the dirt and blood from his body, kissing the bruises, reminding him you're real. You clean him up and talk him down, until his body is wrapped around yours in bed.

He cries himself to sleep in your arms, tears falling more slowly, the result of a dull ache that will linger for days. It'll stay this way for a bit, an unstable back and forth, but you'll be here. You'll reach down and pull him up, you'll save him like he saved you.

[mxvladdy]

More than just a flirt

John Hancock X OC

Hi hi! My smut hand be rusty but nothing like completely self indulgent OC smut to bring me back :)

So I’m still new to tagging and the like but my Fallout 4 OC is GN but I do insinuate female genitals. Soooo ye *finger guns* 

If ya read it I hope a like it! 

John was a flirt; that’s all he ever could be. He was charming. He was witty. He was an adventure covered in an oversized trench coat. What bed partners he had came for one thing. The experience. The ability to boast loudly about fuckin’ a ghoul. Like it was a damn badge of honor. His whole life had been a stream of one night stands, and cold beds. That's all he ever could be. That’s all he ever would be.

So then why did he wake up so warm?

Cracking an eye open John reached behind him searching blindly for what was heating his back. His burned fingers were a complete contrast to the soft flesh that greeted him. Slowly, he traces down it, following the flow of the dark muscular till he is holding on to an arm wrapped around his middle.

“Morin’.” His bed partner huffs in his ear. Chestnut curls tickle his cheek as they hug him closer. Whiskey and melon sweet breath bringing back memories of their lips against his. Last night clicks in place. Ophelia. John rose quickly as if burned. This was wrong, they are a friend. A good friend, a trustworthy hardworking leader. They deserved better than-than…

“John?” Ophelia rose uncaring of how the blankets slipped from their arms. Old fabric pooling around their bare waist. They rub at their eyes wearily. “You ok?”

He froze at the edge of the mattress. Long fingers reaching for his pants on a very recognizable floor. He was in Ophelia’s room; or rather this was their hotel room. Damn. He couldn't remember a thing from last night. What did he take? Fuck. He could kick himself. Of all the one-nighters, he wanted to at least remember this one. “Ye doll, sorry...just didn't wanna wake ya.” He smiles, covering his momentary panic.

Ophelia frowned, sleepy hazel eyes narrowing into a familiar piercing glaze. They size him up. Reading him better than anyone ever had before. John couldn’t help but squirm. They looked at him just like when they had first met. Strong jaw tense and their chin high, silently calling out his bullshit.

“I'm fine, honest. Didn't expect to see you is all.” Hancock tried again tugging on his pants.

“In my own room?” His friend snorts, rising to go open the curtains. “Where else would I be?”

John is silent. “I don’t know. Not here-with me.” He keeps his back turned. It was stupid to linger. The warm tingling of their soft body seeps down into the floorboards leaving him aching and cold. Staring at his irradiated hands he could almost cry. Almost- his tear ducts had been scarred shut years ago.  

“John?” Ophelia comes within arms reach. He could sense their hand hovering close to his own boney shoulder. They drop it moments later. “You sure you’re ok? You coming down from a bad trip or somethin’?” John chuckles humorlessly. Was he that predictable? Stepping away from them he finishes dressing.  

“Ye sunshine. Don’t worry about it. Ain’t my first time and sure as hell won’t be my last.” He tosses out over his shoulder. “I’ll give ya a minute ta get ready and meet you out front.”

If Ophelia had anything to say after that they kept between their pretty little lips.

“I think we should head for shelter.” Ophelia says, looking up from the fallen mutant. Their arms filled with loot. John follows their gaze. His black eyes reflect the eerie shade of green growing in the sky. Rad storm. Looked like a big one too. He lights a cigarette and sticks it between his grimy teeth before helping collect a few more useful items.

“Closest place is probably that supermarket couple o’ klicks back.” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. If they hoof it they could probably get there and pick off any ferals before the worst of the storm hit. Ophelia sighs, John knew how much they hated backtracking. The decision was made for them when their pip-boy starts clicking in warning.

“Well-” They frown, throwing a glance back at the ghoul. “You alright with taking two steps forward and ten steps back?” John laughs, tipping his tricorn up to flash them a quick wink.

“Shit doll- You just summed up my life in a sentence.” Offering a hand he helps the sharpshooter over some loose rubble. “You keep an eye out K? I know you’re low on ammo so I’ll take point.” Ophelia nods. Their sniper rifle slung uselessly across their back. Readying his shotgun John follows behind.

The storm hit just when he had expected. Dropping rain and hunks of debris on the two as they struggle to close the supermarket doors against the high winds. Thanks to their combined dumb luck the place was empty. The sentry bots long since destroyed and even a few tins of food were still scattered about the aisle. Ophelia left him to collect some and scout out any hidden lock boxes, leaving him to set up the sleeping bags and start a small fire. Cracking open a room-temperature beer he stares idly into the flicking flames. It grew steadily as he fed it bits of cardboard and kindling. The yellow glow touches his skin and starts to dry his drenched clothes. John contemplates his predicament while he waits for Ophelia to return. The memories of last night slowly start to come back to him in the silence. The tastes, and smells of washed sheets and sweating skin permeate his senses. Ophelia’s sweet mewls and gasps echo around in between his ears. Who gave them the right to make his name sound so sweet?

Shit-He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it. First rule of one-nighters is to live in the moment then walk away clean. But damn if he wasn’t the worst at following rules.

He relives it all the best he can, parts still blurring and blocked, like a scratch in a holotape. But he’ll take it. He’ll take the phantom feel of strong, sure fingers mapping his body. The ghost of a tongue slipping against his. Washing away the taste of mentats and cheap drinks. He can’t remember the last time he had felt so warm and wanted. Made the sudden distance he put between them hurt even more. Fuck him for getting greedy.

John flicks the butt of his cigarette into the roaring flames and searches for another. He grumbles in irritation as each pocket bears no fruit. “Here. I got some.” A familiar red and white box appears in his peripheral. Ophelia’s chipped yellow nail polish clashing with the old carton.

“Thanks, sunshine.” He rasps, taking the box. He can’t bear looking up for the crumbled container. The thought of making eye contact with them while his blood and brains were living in his trousers seemed unholy. Pulling out the least damaged cigarette of the lot he lights it with a practiced flick of his wrist. “Found anything good?”

They shrug, putting a few cans of beans and corn in the growing amount of embers around the fire pit to heat. “Some ammo and super glue. Also-” They grin, forcing him to look up. “Got you a present.” They pull a bottle out from behind their back to brandish it at him triumphantly. He stares. Not at the bottle, but at the way that little pull of muscle brightens up their whole face. That signature gapped tooth smile warming him better than the beer and firelight combined. He reaches numbly for the bottle. A Nuka-Cola Quantum, the chill of the bottle a welcomed surprise.

He and the rest of the crew had learned over the years not to reject a gift, no matter how valuable. MacCready nearly had a heart attack when he was gifted with a shiny new sniper rifle. That pretty little custom piece came with all the bells and whistles. Not to mention a few boxes of specialized ammo. John had zoned out when the other man started rambling rapid-fire over specs clutching the gun to him like a newborn. Each of the core companions got some good shit from time to time. He had some absolutely sinful blades and an old bottle of pre war bourbon tucked away in his office. Valentine had gotten some fantastic upgrades to his hardware and repairs to his offices. Hell- Curie got a whole bloody body.

Can’t beat these job perks.  

“What’s the occasion?” He pops the cap off with the blunt end of his pocket knife, taking a pull from the bottle. The rush of sugar and god knows what else damping his headache.

Ophelia shrugs from across the pit. Pulling off their worn boots to warm their feet by the fire. “I remember you said they perk you up after a particularly bad crash.” They pause, face closing down for a moment, before looking up in horror. “I would have thought- I mean. I- you-I hope I didn’t do anything last night that upset you. I know you were a bit buzzed and I was way past tipsy. But, if I stepped out of line you would tell me right ?” John looks at them beyond confused.

"What?" He asks dumbly.

" Is," Ophelia waves vaguely at the distance between them. Normally when they camped together they were thick as thieves. Joking and nudging at each other's shoulders. Others used to joke about them getting a room. Now it felt like a great chasm had opened between them. "all of this about last night."

"Oh. Nah. Don't gotta worry none doll." John shrugs. Best to rip the bandage off now then later. "It's in the past, best leave it there. " He lies. It burns his throat worse than jet, but he has to. If only to protect his crumbling pride. One day he'll believe his own words. Hopefully.

"Well I am worried. How 'bout we start over. What’s wrong?" Ophelia jabs.

John feels heat rise under his thick skin. Just pokin’ a fresh cut tonight huh..."Kinda hard to start over after having someone's dick down your throat." He tosses it out carelessly. A shit attempt to derail the coming train wreck. Ophelia doesn't even flinch.

"Well, it's a damn good thing we both know how flexible I am then.” They rebuttal smoothly. “So, I'll ask again. What’s. Wrong?" The ghoul shrinks under their heated look. He was never keen on being hit with these eyes. Meant another kinda storm was brewing.

John throws his hands up in frustration. Had they never heard the phrase 'read the room'. "What, ya never had a one nighter before?" He regrets it the second the words leave his lips. He'd never seen someone flinch from words before. "Look, doll, I ain't one for making things awkward. I know the rules so let's just forget it and move on."

Ophelia deflates. Their signature look that could pin a super mutant in fight extinguished just like that. John watches them mouth over his words slowly. Clearly hating the taste of them as much as he did. "Is- was that what you wanted out of it?" Ophelia sighs. They dig a hand through sweat tangled locks. The tight coils of their hair protesting the drag of their fingers. His own fingers itch watching them, remembering the feel of their hair wrapped around his hand as he pulled them in for a kiss.

"What did you want out of it?" He asks, feeling dumber than a radroach.

Ophelia mimics him, throwing their hands up with a short laugh. "John, I thought it was clear. I don't go sleeping around with my friends and colleagues for shits and giggles. Who do I always ask to join me on travels?"

“Dogmeat?” John jokes, the knot in his stomach loosening with hope. It's unimaginable really- and yet. Were they serious? The past couple of times out they had always come to him. Even when they would be at a strategic disadvantage for whatever crazy scheme they had brewing. Only time he wasn’t Ophelia’s top pick was when some Minutemen tasks needed to be done. Even then He could always expect them at his front door the moment their feet landed on safe ground. A bottle of liquor in hand and an unbelievable story to tell.

“Not funny.” They chastised him scooting until they were seated next to him, knees brushing. "My idea for this morning was to maybe get breakfast and a semi decent cup of coffee. But I guess this is fine." They scrunch their nose in distaste at the cans warming in the fire pit.

“Shit doll,” John reaches out, wrapping a wiry arm around their waist. “Can I make it up to you? For being such an ass?” They hum in jest covering his hand with their own. The kiss that follows was unlike anything that he expected. It was slow and sweet. So different from the fast pecks he would get with others he slept with. He deepens it greedily, not ready to part just yet.

“You’re lucky I find you attractive.” Ophelia whispers into his mouth tossing his tricorn to the side and straddling his narrow hips. “We are going to have a talk about all this. Just-later-much, much later. I need a repeat performance of last night now that we are both sober.”

John groans letting them push him down. “Damn-you got it. You got whatever you want if you mean it.” Ophelia scoffs, ridding themselves of their baggy jacket. John can’t help but marvel at how beautiful they were backlit by the roaring flames. The orange glow of the light wrapping around their dark skin much like he craved to do. The flicking of it lapping at their smooth skin. Flashes of last night coming back to him of his tongue traveling down the same areas. He would have to remap them.

“As if I could ever lie to your smart ass.” They scoff grinding down on the growing bulge hidden in his rough pants. “But you have been lying to me and yourself it seems.”

He grunts in acknowledgment eyeing the way their ass moves. “You are absolutely right.Fuck- how can I make it up to you?”

Ophelia smirks cupping his cheeks. Their eyes meet. Rich hazel meeting cold black. The moment digs dip under his tough hide. The raw emotions in their stare makes his throat dry. “Put that mouth to good use- hmm? I know it’s good for more than some self-depreciation.”  

Spurred by Ophelia’s words he flips their positions, placing the sniper down on his bedroll. John sinks lower, kissing and nipping at their hip bone. Mapping out all the sensitive parts of their body. His tongue tracing the silver little streaks on their belly. Ophelia’s stomach twitches at the feel of his warm breath on their stretch marks, cursing quietly as he finds their slick core. Their nails score his scalp, dragging a hiss of pleasure from his lips. He licks with gusto, taking full advantage of their isolated positions to make them scream.  

“John-” They mew clawing at his shoulders to pull him back up to their kiss swollen lips. He goes leaving a trail of kisses in his wake before giving them a surprisingly chaste kiss on their lips.

“You sure ‘bout this doll?” He didn’t know what would happen after this, but it felt so different compared to his other recurring bed partners. He did want to see them again. He wanted this relationship to bleed into every aspect of his life. If he could relive that morning wrapped in their arms till his brain was splattered out on some dusty alleyway then he would. Without question.

Ophelia nods, reading in between the lines of his multilayered question. If there was one power figure in this wasteland they trusted, it was him. Wrapping a strong leg around his strong waist they shimmy off their tactical pants. Their eyes lock onto his pants as if the ratty briefs offended them.  John chuckles and casually loosens the draw strings keeping his pants up. Ophelia takes it from there scooting the rough material down his legs. They pur, grasping his erection and stroking it. Their dexterous fingers play with his head drawing out a healthy bit of pre.

John sighs and rests his forehead on Ophelia’s brow breathing in their naturally clean scent. It reminded him of the rare times he could get freshly washed laundry mixed with the springtime. Shen the wild plants strong enough to brave this cruel world sprouted. He kisses them, nipping at their chin and collarbone while they drive him wild. “Doll, please.” He gasps, back arching into their touch. “You’re killin’ me ya know.” Ophelia chuckles returning a deep kiss.

“Good, consider it penance for thinking I couldn’t love you.”

John heaves, lost for breath as their words hit him. He pulls back floundering.  “You mean that?” He sees the rapid fire thoughts racing through their wide eyes. Shock that they let slip that dirty little secret, fear of what he would do, then a stark resolution.

“Of course.” Ophelia nods through their embarrassment. Their sharp cheeks beginning to warm under his gaze. They say it like it’s an obvious statement. Like he should have just known. In a way he did. He just couldn’t believe it.

John takes the initiative now.  Dragging Ophelia down to his scarred lips preening when he feels them sigh into it. Their tongue teasing his telling him point blank what they wanted. Grabbing onto their plush hips John grinds down on them, rubbing his stiff erection through the seam of their thighs and wet entrance. The moans that elicited from them made his radioactive blood boil with need. He had to have them again, last night was a dud. He would savoir this time.

Positioning themselves over John’s cock Ophelia shoots him a sultry wink before sinking down onto him slowly. “Oh fuck me.” He groans, dropping his head to his pillow. Their body was feverish around his, soft, pliant and so willing.

“That was my intention.” They grab onto his shoulders for support. Eyelids fluttering heavily. “If I’m not getting that across now, perhaps I should quit while I’m behind?” They joke as they ride him. Their hips move in slow tight circles. It’s enough to drive him wild.

John digs his fingers into the supple flesh of Ophelia’s hips. With any luck he’ll leave bruises. Excellent. Ophelia couldn’t stop John as he flipped their position. He pinned them roughly down on his sleeping bag. “Don’t worry Doll. You got your point across very well. Don’t need to go putting yourself out like that.”

“You’re one to ta-” John thrusts into them cutting off their snark. Taking  devilish delight in flustering them. Setting a fast pace he drives in deep revealing in their cries of pleasure. God damn- this was almost enough to make him wanna go sober. How did he ever think one night would be enough?

“Fuck! I don’t deserve you.” His hisses cutting through the wet slaps of skin on skin. Ophelia does nothing but groan. Neither of them last long. Much to John’s chagrin. He finishes with a choked shout, hips and stomach twitching as he spills himself on their thigh. Ophelia doesn’t fare much better. They bite hard at the rough skin of his neck, nails scoring his back with a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain while they came undone beneath him.

“Do you mean it?” He asks, cupping the back of Ophelia’s skull. They wrap an arm around his neck nuzzling close, draping their body across his.

“Ye- but if you talk down about yourself again I’ll have to feed you to a deathclaw.” John chuckles feeling his eyelids getting heavy. He wouldn’t put it past them.

[olivediamonds]

Ok so I've just been loving Our Life: Beginnings & Always so much I had to write a fic of my own! I ended up using my own characters name because I was playing the game while writing and not gonna lie, I like hearing Cove say my name ☺️

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

You were pacing around your room one peaceful day. You wouldn't be surprised if Elizabeth burst into your room because she was tired of listening you wear a hole into your floor. Even if she did it probably wouldn't have stopped you since you were having the biggest problem you've ever had in the fifteen years you've been alive.

Cove's birthday was coming up and you couldn't think of a good present for him!

Cove has been your best friend (and crush) since you both were kids! You knew everything he liked and were proud of the presents you've given him each year.

You remember how happy he was for the drawing of a dolphin you drew for him when you were 10 and the box you made with seashells, a glue gun and an old jewelry box you found at the local antique store for his 13th birthday.

"I thought I heard the pacing of a stressed out teenager."

You jumped in surprise and turned to see Ma leaning against your doorframe with a small smile on her face. She knew you well enough to know she didn't need to ask what's wrong, you'd tell her at your own pace and she stepped into your room to sit down in your chair. You sighed and took a seat at the edge of your bed across from her.

"I don't know what to get for Cove. I've been to every store and thought of everything I can make and nothing seems good enough." You sighed again and ran a hand through your hair. You know Cove would like anything you give him but that wasn't going to stop you from making it special.

"Are you sure you thought of everything? I can think of something that could be special. Though of course he wouldn't be able to keep what I'm thinking."

You looked at Ma confused while she chuckled and stood up to take your hand.

"Come on, we have some shopping to do."

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

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door to Cove's house. When Mr Holden opened the door you gave him a shy smile as he grinned at you.

"Well look who it is. Cove, Alex is here to see you!" Mr Holden called out to him who you guessed was in the living room since he was pushing past his dad after only a few seconds. Mr Holden didn't seem to mind as he left you and Cove alone.

"Hey Alex!" Cove was grinning brightly which made the butterflies in your stomach flutter harder and you felt your mouth suddenly felt dry.

"H-Hey, I was wondering if you were free tonight. I uh... Wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight..." You could feel your face heat up and looked down at your shoes. You could hear Cove let out a choked noise. You didn't have to look up to know that he was probably blushing and holding his arm while he fidgeted.

"I uh, yeah sure. I have to ask dad but I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

You looked up to smile at him and you could still see the faint hint of a blush as he smiled back. You couldn't help excitedly hop in place when he turned his back on you to talk to his dad but you were able to calm down before he could see your excitement when he returned to tell you that he could come.

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

"You're doing great. Now, top the rice with the tuna." Ma instructed as you filled two bowls with rice. Ma had mostly stayed out of your way as you made your first meal (she did insist on cutting up the tuna into chunks for you but you didn't mind since she let you cook the rice without help). You were just topping the meal with the spicy mayo when you heard Mom's voice as she answered the door.

"Good evening Cove! Come on in."

"Evening, should I have dressed nicer? I can go back and change."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the conversation you were overhearing. He was probably looking surprised at your mom's dress. You looked over at Ma and couldn't help but admire her simple black dress. You secretly hoped you would look as good as her when you wore fancy clothes.

"Don't worry Cove, Lani and I decided to go out on a little date while you and Alex enjoy your dinner since Elizabeth is staying at a friend's house."

You could imagine Cove was probably looking at your mom confused. You didn't tell him it would be just you and him since you didn't know either. Ma just decided not too long after you started dinner that they should "give you two some alone time."

You could hear footsteps approaching and turned to see Cove and Mom walk in. You couldn't help but blush when you remembered you were wearing Mom's apron as you carried the two bowls to the table. You quickly removed the apron and returned it to the hook it usually hangs on while Ma pat your head and kissed your cheek.

"Don't forget dessert is cooling on the counter." She whispered to you before kissing your cheek. She smiled at Cove before joining Mom in grabbing their coats as they head to the door.

"Enjoy dinner you two, remember not to stay up all night!" Mom reminded you both before closing the door behind her. Cove looked over at you with a shy smile as sat down at the table. You sat down across from him and fiddled with your chopsticks, trying to think of something to say.

"So uh, your moms made poke? Cool." He said, trying to lighten the awkward air between you both.

"Actually, I made it myself," you said shyly. You could see Cove's eyes widen behind his glasses as he looked between you and the food in front of him.

"Wait, really? You made this?" He looked at his poke bowl like it was a special treasure. You could practically hear your own heartbeat as he carefully picked up his chopsticks and took his first bite. You bit the inside of your cheek when you saw his eyes widen and you were afraid you messed something up until he looked up at you, his smiling face almost glowing.

"This is so good!" He said happily which brought a smile to your face as you began to dig into your own bowl. The two of you talked about your classes and some movies you both want to see. Once you two were done you stood up and collected the dishes. You gestured for Cove to stay sitting when you noticed him moving to get up and help you.

"There's one more thing, just stay there."

Cove raised an eyebrow but stayed put while you carried the dishes to the sink. You could clean them up later, right now you walked over to the freezer to grab the vanilla ice cream. You then headed to the tray of brownies resting on the counter. You picked out the biggest piece and carefully scooped out some ice cream to place on top of the brownie.

After picking out a brownie for yourself you returned the ice cream to the freezer and brought out the desserts with a grin. You could see Cove's eyes widened when he saw the treat and returned your grin.

"Wow Alex, did you make this too?" He asked as you placed the plate in front of him. You couldn't help but smile when he immediately began mixing the ice cream and brownie together.

"Yeah... I didn't know what to give you for your birthday so I thought you might like this," you confessed, looking down at the ice cream slowly melting on your brownie. When you didn't hear Cove reply you looked back up to see you staring at him in shock. You could see tears forming in his eyes and you couldn't help but tense up.

"Cove..."

He put down his spoon to quickly wipe his eyes. When he looked at you again he was smiling softly.

"Sorry, I'm alright. This is just so great Alex. I don't know what to say."

He smiled brightly at you and you remembered when you thought about confessing to him about your crush when you were 13. The only thing that changed was your affection for him grew and you ended up saying his name without thinking.

"Cove."

He looked up, a spoonful of ice cream and brownie halfway to his mouth. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and confusion. Just like before your words were caught in your throat and you ended up shaking your head.

"Nothing just... Happy Birthday."

Cove just laughed and smiled at you. Someday you might tell him but for now you just wanted to enjoy your time with your best friend.

[froegs]

My Stardew OC’s!

long post, but feel free to read up if u wanna ask questions or request to see more of them!!

Ivy Sodbuster!

Quick Facts about Ivy:

She worked in customer service @ joja for 6 years

She was a dedicated scene kid 8th grade and all through high school, unfortunately she had to trash (almost) all her clothes and redye her hair bc of joja 😞

She only wore business casual bc she would go and work for seven hours and come home, sleep, repeat. When she started working on the farm she was broke as hell so she had to rip the sleeves off her shirts and cut her jeans into jorts so she could have work clothes

Emily was her first friend in town bc she saw ivys busted ass and said..... let me help you

She became friends with Sam second just because. He was around.

She inherited grandpa’s farm with her cousin, Oakley (my friends oc, once she finalizes a design I’ll draw them more).

Oakley’s more “mature” (bc shes 30) but she just is really anxious. Ivy tries to set her up with Leah but they don’t click,,, Oakley ends up falling for chicken man.

Sam introduces Ivy to Seb and instead of Farmer falling for NPC its the other way around Fr.

Seb crushes on Ivy immediately

His first attempt at flirting was like “hey ivy...... wanna see me beat Sam at 8pool for 3 hrs straight?” And Ivy immediately joined Sam’s side and demolished Seb in 8ball.

Ivy ended up hanging out with the ASS trio on a daily.

Seb and Ivy started dating Fall 1 of year 1 after they confessed their feelings for each other during the dance of the moonlight jellies festival

They moved in together 3 days after Seb’s bday

And were married Summer 10

They fast burned this bitch but they are so stupidly in love

In Year 3 Spring Ivy’s other cousin on her moms side became pregnant and chose to give it up for adoption, but beforehand she asked everyone in the family if they wanted a baby

Ivy looked at Seb like 👀

So on Year 3 Winter 1 they brought home their son, Finn

I think this is a classic trope for all Sebastian lovers but he def dresses Finn up in a frog onesie and calls him tadpole !!

Her favorite activity is fishing, that’s how’d she find excuses to hang out with Seb by the lake

She loves making artisan items, especially truffle oil. Oakley prefers large crops and agricultural designing and ivys like fuck yeah mushroom >:D

Milo NoLastName!

Quick Facts About Milo:

Milo was smuggled into Pelican Town by the Traveling Merchant when he was 6 and was taken in by Gil and Marlon.

Gil was 55 and Marlon was 46 when they “adopted” Milo

Gil took the most care of him and Marlon kind of had the attitude of like... a dad when your family pressures him to get a dog. First week their like FINE I GUESS we have to TAKE CARE of HIM. Next week: me and the bestie!

Milo looks up to Gil so much. His favorite brown jacket was Gil’s old one.

Marlon took Milo into the mines when he turned ten as a sort of “coming of age” trip and.... a bat nipped a part of his ear off.

Marlon said it’ll build character

But he was freaking out about it

Gil was upset but got it patched up.

I head canon that Evelyn taught the kids in town before they went off to high school, so four times a week (he’d usually stay home Friday to reset and relax or help out his dads) he’d have to socialize with the others

But he was always a few years older than them so he felt kind of distant

The others in question were Alex, Penny, Sam, Abigail, Sebastian, and Maru

Once he graduated middle school he convinced Gil to let him homeschool so he could find geodes and sell them during most the day.

When he was 17 he finally reached floor 120 of the mines, but on his way climbing back up he got attacked by three squid kids and void spirits, lost his left ear, and blacked out

He was rescued by Marlon, who rushed him home and took care of him

Because Pelican Town didn’t have a doctor at that time, the bus was broken down, all Marlon could do was try and clean up his ear and give him antibiotics and make sure it didn’t become infected

He lost his hearing in that ear

That was the biggest injury he’s gotten so far, but he was grateful when Harvey moved to town

Harvey opened his clinic, fresh faced (ish) at 26 and immediately some scruffed up 24 year old saunters in like “thank GOD ur here dude, here’s fourteen years worth of problems. Good luck.”

It didn’t actually go like that

But

Basically

Milo’s not really a social person, at 25 he discovered he could easily buy a car and drive out to the desert to try his hand at skull cavern. He came prepared but ended up needing emergency surgery that night anyway

He slowly but surely became friends with Sandy and the desert trader. He liked the trader for her prices and Sandy for her kindness.

He also fell in love with....... HARVEY!! (shocker)

Harvey actually fell in love with him first :))

Idiots to lovers slow burn

Hell they’re not even together by the time ivy rolls around and they met like.... 6 years ago??? My god these bitches.....

Pheobe Dy

Quick facts about Pheobe:

Pheobe actually grew up closer to the desert than Zuzu City or pelican town!

Her parents own a decent sized cacti farm and she’d bus into town for school where she met Sandy and Emily!!

I like to believe there’s another town (not as small as Pelican) but close knit in the desert. I hc that Sandy’s shop, skull caverns, and the trader are just like the entry road to a nice desert town

Anyway

She got into fashion and design when Emily pulled her and Sandy into it in sophomore year of high school

Sandy didn’t like it that much and would usually hit glue or staple pieces bc she’d procrastinate the whole time lol

But Pheobe and Em where DEDICATED

they’d hang out after school to design clothing and critique each other’s work (with love, of course)

Pheobe went to college for clothing design with her backup being IT and computer work (another passion of hers)

She started dating Sebastian when she met him during a trip to a small computer repair store in ZuZu city

He thought she was cute so he gave her his number and they met at Stardrop Saloon

She felt a need to like him, not because she was actually attracted to him in any way, but because she was a ~closeted lesbian~

So that relationship didn’t last too long

Ok maybe a little

2 years

But she’s bad at cutting off things, ok?

That’s when she realized she liked her best friends... Sandy and Emily

Emily and Sandy were already in a pretty open relationship by the time Pheobe came around, but it still took her some courage to admit her feelings to them.

They started dating when all three of them were around 26.

Emily moved with her sister Haley to pelican town a year into their relationship, and Sandy and Pheobe followed.

They bought a car so Sandy could maintain her shop in the desert

There is now a house where that garden that Harvey stands in 25/8 is. And Sandy and Pheobe live there. I don’t make the rules.

Pheobe and Emily work together on a small clothing company, they design the clothes together, Emily makes them, Pheobe made a website and uploads them there, and Sandy sells some at her shop :D

The three of them would like to tie the knot one day, but right now they’re super content on where they are, so sometime in the future :)

[thetorturerwrites]

Eos

Summary: Unblinking, unfocused, you stared at the metronome, losing track of what you were supposed to do. She liked the metronome, Dr. Howard, because it kept her patients calm when reliving their trauma. At least that’s what she told you.

It was your name that drew you back. Not your actual name — the one he’d given you. Your legal name. The one in all the papers.

A/N: This is not for the faint of heart. And do not come for me over this. Non-con/dub-con is a valid fantasy.

That being said, this should be considered a prequel to Get It Right and is for @findyourdarkness​, who wanted more.

C/N:  DEAD DOVE; graphic depictions of violence; Non-con/dub-con; Torture; Stockholm Syndrome; Kidnapping; References to Emesis/Vom; References to forced addiction; Blood and bits; Med/surg; LOOK YOU KNOW WHO I AM OK

All the way behind the cut....

Tick tock tick Tick tock tick

Unblinking, unfocused, you stared at the metronome, losing track of what you were supposed to do. She liked the metronome, Dr. Howard, because it kept her patients calm when reliving their trauma. At least that’s what she told you.

It was your name that drew you back. Not your actual name — the one he’d given you. Your legal name. The one in all the papers.

“He held you captive for three years,” she said, as though you didn’t know, down to the hour, how long he had you. “Are you ready to talk about what he did to you?”

The detective said they needed to know so they could make an accurate accounting in the file.

But how could you answer?

“The... the first year…”

... was all pain.

You didn’t come to his life willingly; he stole you from a happy home and a family that loved you. In the dead of night, he crept into your house, punched you so hard he fractured your jaw and broke your nose, and carried your limp body out with no one the wiser for it.

Your jaw was wired shut for weeks, which lent itself well to his design. The first few days, you shouted yourself dizzy, but all that came out was a muffled wheeze; and when you cried too hard, you choked on your own spit. The blockage at your broken nose kept you from breathing normally.  Inside a week, you learned to not scream lest you asphyxiate from the effort.

Everything made you wretch — the smell of him, the smell of yourself, the water, the air, the plump head of his cock as it rubbed against your puffy, useless mouth.

Thinking you’d suicide your way out of this hell and deny him his newfound plaything, you plastered yourself to the corner of the dismal room, refusing food and water. Undeterred, he shoved an NG tube into your battered nose to scratch along the back of your throat. Force feeding you was something he thoroughly enjoyed, as was the waterboarding that inevitably followed to ensure hydration made it down your gullet.

That was the first time he fucked you.  Drenched and bent over the very table he drowned you on, he wracked open your body and growled possessively at your pitiable screams. Your muted sobs only made him pound at you, claw at you, that much harder. On autopilot, your body made space for him, clenched tight around each violent shove of his dick, and fell headlong into something you tried to tell yourself was just a physical response.

Mangled as your face was, bruised and locked up tight, you could do nothing but swallow the bile, the half processed liquid diet, the snotty water your body tried to expel as you jerked and quaked through the unwelcome orgasm.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?”

You screamed when he caught you trying to escape, having scraped your fingers bloody, trying to gouge the lock from the door. He dragged you down into the bowels of his house, throwing you into a pitch black cellar. He forced pins beneath your nails so you couldn’t use your fingers and set them with super glue.

“To keep you from pulling them loose,” he chided.

It was a gruesome manicure, and it set your teeth to grinding. Your fingers throbbed, and you could feel each individual pin. It drove you mad until you finally did rip one set of pins free, along with the entire nail. Your echoing screams only drove you further into a rage; and soon, there were no more pins. No more glue. No more nails.

Exhausted, you collapsed into a dirty heap in the corner.

Under his feet, beneath his very floor, you continually wailed and pleaded, shouted and begged, but he ignored you. For days, possibly weeks. He only came to see you nourished, which no longer included the NG tube, but instead a handful of supplements he forced you to swallow, washed down by a gallon of water and his sticky seed.

You were too filthy to be fucked, he told you.

Angered by his judgment, you spat at him.  You rallied and railed that you were filthy because of him. He kept you in that hole with only a goddamn bucket and a worn mattress on the floor like a fucking animal.

Your outburst cost you the bucket and gained you a regular rotation of ORS, accompanied by his thick fingers buried in your cunt and his weighty palm pressing on your abdomen until you could no longer control your bladder. You wept each time he coaxed the golden liquid from you and fumed when he told you how much better he liked you when you behaved.

That became the first rule.

You asked his permission to urinate.

When you disobeyed and relieved yourself without asking, he shoved you face first into your own waste and belted you bloody. When you followed the rule, when you waited for him to arrive and told him of your need, you often got his fingers in your pussy, pumping and curling, sending you into a subdued, subtle orgasm until you pissed in his hand.

The alleviation of your discomfort was always so palpable.  Punctuated with breathy, grateful moans, it stole your dignity. You hated that he wanted this ritual, but you hated more than you came to crave it. Each time, he pressed his lips to your temple and bore your sagging weight. He clucked and crooned that you could be such a good girl if you wanted.

He only had to slap you once before you licked his dirtied hand clean.

Complying with his demand earned you food, water you didn’t have to fear, and a clean mattress, but your basement cell was still frigid, and your bare legs and feet still froze. It was only when his harsh treatment and inhospitable accommodations made you ill that he relented. He carried you and your pneumonia up into the house proper and helped you through the first bath you could remember in what felt like months.

Too feverish to enjoy it properly, you cried into his shoulder, clinging to him as he washed your back. And though you knew it was madness, knew it was the sickness, you murmured thanks and fell asleep against his broad chest.

Tock tick tock Tock tick tock

Dr. Howard stared at you, mouth agape, for an uncomfortably long time. Unable to remain stoic, her face telegraphed every thought. She was horrified, plainly terrified, and, at the same time, amazed that you sat here in her office, telling her such awful things as though you made pleasant conversation.

“Do you, ah…” Her brow furrowed, and she fidgeted. “Do you need to take a break? Get a snack? Use the…”

You chewed the inside of your lip subtly as her thought trailed off. Use the facilities, your mind furnished. She couldn’t bring herself to ask you if you needed to pee, given what she’d learned. You debated telling her you couldn’t force yourself, no matter how hard you tried. Instead, you had to wait until need won out over volition.

“No, thank you.” You brushed an imaginary fuzzball off of your skirt hem and looked away, a flush creeping into your cheeks at the memory of his fingers inside you. “I’d rather do this all today, if possible.”

“Ah.” She nodded and scribbled something down. “Please, go on.”

Your gaze crawled over the books lining the wall behind her desk, reminding you of his library and the mountain of books he made you read to him. Your shoulders rose and fell on a sigh, the intake of breath no longer steadying as it had been then. It was simply function now.

“The second year was transformation. That’s what he called it.”

Satisfied that he broke you of any desire to flee, he started with your teeth. Uncommon, you made it to adulthood with all of your wisdom teeth, which he had removed to make more room in your mouth for his cock, to ensure they wouldn’t scrape at him when he forced himself into your throat, which he did every morning.

No longer banished to the basement, you slept tied to the foot of his bed. First, it was with heavy, scratchy coconut rope, and your mornings started with a roughshod swallow when he awoke. You knew better than to outright fight him, but you still leaned away, still shook your head no, and he punished you for it with a face fucking so brutal your lips split.

When you accepted his cock with no derision, no argument, you earned medication, a sedative for your night terrors or a pain pill for your discomfort. When you sucked his dick of your own will, without him holding you in place and rutting into your mouth like a savage, you earned a less coarse rope and a pillow upon which to sleep.

That became the second rule.

Knelt at the side of his bed, you worshiped his cock every morning, gulping down whatever he saw fit to give you that day, be it his cum, his piss, or a blend of both.

Next, it was your eyes. Nearsighted on the left and farsighted on the right, your prescription was so strong, he had been a blurry demon for a year without your glasses. And now that he no longer had to beat you senseless every day, that would not do.

“The devil is in the details,” he said, wanting you to remember every moment in vivid color.

You cried when you saw him clearly for the first time. Great, untamable sobs erupted from your chest because you didn’t understand how someone so beautiful could be so inhumane. Even without perfect vision, you knew he was tall, wide, and muscular. You knew his hair was dark and wavy. But you didn’t know the line of his nose was so poetic. Nor did you know that his lips quivered as he pondered.

It was only when you saw the details, just as he wanted, that you realized you knew him. You’d seen him. You remembered smiling at him in the shop every day. Putting together the puzzle, you realized he planned for this, for you.

Halfway through the year, when you were compliant, quiet, and addicted to the steady stream of pharmaceuticals he plied you with, there came a tracker in your throat and laryngeal chondroplasty to make the pitch of your voice more pleasing. You had a pretty voice, he told you, but your screams weren’t high enough. Your whimpers didn’t have that special something.

He tested it by withholding the medication he’d allowed you to become dependent upon. You scratched at the walls, shuddering and whining. You jerked against the iron collar keeping you within a foot of his bed. You pleaded with him for just one pill, just one of anything to make you feel better. You bartered with nothing and promised to do anything if he would chase away these tremors, these shakes and hallucinations.

Only when he wanted, no sooner, did he give you what you sought. Two little pills were all it took for you to brace yourself on hands and knees and whore yourself for him. That night, he fucked you hoarse.  On the floor like a beast, he slapped and choked you while shoving his massive length all the way into your guts and prodding you to say what he wanted again and again and again.

And you did.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

That became the third rule.

You thanked him every time he fucked you, more so if he allowed you to orgasm.

You couldn’t remember when your breasts changed. You’d simply awoken one morning from a medicated fog to burning chest muscles and tits that sat higher, perkier than before. He liked to palm them as he made plans, to pluck and tug and roll the nipples until your ragged breathing lured him away from his blueprints.

He never allowed you any clothing, even when he set you to working in his home. He wanted to feel your hips, to dip his fingers into your sex when he caught you bent over to clean, to fuck you whenever the fancy struck him. He often kept you in his lap, either curled into his chest upon it or bent over it and strapped to his chair.

Finally, you underwent tubal ligation. He debated the pros and cons — though not actually with you — of it versus an outright hysterectomy for weeks.  He didn’t trust the vasectomy he had and wanted to be sure.  Children, he reminded you, were not part of his plan; and thus, they were no longer a possibility for your future.

After the last surgery, he put you through a detox program. Less harsh than the abrupt first round, he combated your withdrawals and illness by wringing a long string of orgasms from your overheated body. You slept through half of it; and when you weren't sleeping, he sent you into orbit with his lips, his fingers, his cock.

From then forward, he allowed you human food, even teaching you how to cook his favorite dishes, but he controlled your portions, your supplements, your hydration.  And your exercise to stave off atrophy.

At the close of the year, after the false color had grown out and your long hair hung its natural hue, he told you that your transformation was complete. Your body was stronger, having run the gauntlet in his name, and you were healthier than you’d ever been.

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you looked away from Dr. Howard, diving into the memory as though it would warm you.

His fourth rule was that you ride his dick every night, slowly, languidly. He didn’t always cum when you did it, a fact that somehow sorely disappointed you, but he wanted to watch you stretch and writhe. He wanted to run his hands over the body he molded, to appreciate the effects of your metamorphosis.

At midnight of the third year, he gave you a new name.

You cried when he said it, when he repeated it again and again. Head tipped back, his hands everywhere, filled to the brim with his thick cock, fat tears spilled from the corners of your eyes because he said it with such tenderness, such possessiveness you felt branded by it.

He wasn’t wrong. You were a wholly different person — whether or not you wanted it.

“What was it? The new name?”

She asked on bated breath. She even leaned forward in her chair, engrossed as though your life, your ordeal, was a suspenseful movie or salacious novel. The look you gave her was charged with ire, a clap back on your features that needed no words.

Realizing she’d been caught, Dr. Howard slipped back into clinical professionalism and rifled through the file on her lap. She made a few notes, which you believed were little more than doodles and simply a way to regain some ground she’d lost.

“When did you learn he was hurting people?”

“June of the 3rd year.”

She looked at you incredulously, taking off her glasses to huff slightly. “He’d killed 6 people by then. What were you doing?”

“Training.”

Your education into his extra-curricular activities began the day he called your new name, and you looked up automatically. It took time. You rarely realized he was even speaking to you until he threw a book at your head or kicked the chair out from beneath you. To punctuate the conditioning, he buried his face between your thighs at least twice a day, but he wouldn’t let you cum until you repeated it to his satisfaction.

“My name is… my name is… my name is…”

Much the way sheltered children are bought private educations, he arranged for you to have tutors in subjects he deemed fit.  You studied anatomy, infrastructure, and chemistry. You learned to speak Italian, Dutch, Farsi, and a handful of other languages. Some more than others, but all to the point you could get by. He demanded you slog through massive texts on physiology, engineering, even rudimentary architecture.

For a month, he hired a dominatrix to teach you about knots, rope, and bondage. You tied yourself to chairs and columns, learned how to wiggle out of what most people thought were secure bindings, and made quick-and-dirty cuffs and gags from a single length of clothesline rope. Every lesson ended with you in a hogtie and him balls deep inside you some way or another.

Masseurs came to teach you about pressure points and fascia. Nurses gave you lessons on starting an IV, administering fluids, and creating an arterial tap. You learned jiu jitsu and how best to break bones, how to perform a choke hold properly, and the quickest way to subdue someone twice your size.

He hosted dinner parties at which his guests, doctors and lawyers, discussed Mozart, politics, and hypothetical ways to disarticulate a human body, to eliminate evidence of a crime, to elude the supposed authorities just by being patient. Don’t make rash decisions, they said. Stay calm; don’t deviate from your plan.

“Why did you not try to escape?” One red brow piqued over Dr. Howard’s eye, and she continued. “It is arguable that you were well qualified to fight your way to freedom. Why didn’t you?”

You looked towards the window. This was the thing she wanted to know more than anything. Yes, she wanted the gory details of his crimes for the records, and she wanted to know how you made it through all that time alive. But she really wanted to know why you weren’t chained to a radiator, emaciated, or addicted to heroin. The way she expected. She especially wanted to know why you didn’t run.

“If I had a suitable answer for that, I doubt I’d be here, Dr. Howard.”

Two and a half years into your captivity, his ownership was complete. You not only obeyed without hesitation; you often anticipated his demands, and you routinely left his home for errands without the compulsion to flee. Now when he beat you, it was because he wanted to see you suffer rather than needing to re-educate or punish you. When he took away your food or your bed, it was to sate his sadism. Instead of waterboarding you in the basement like a hostage, he plunged your face into ice-cold bath water while he fucked you from behind in ornate hotel rooms around the world.

It wasn’t that you were too afraid to escape. He eviscerated everything that made you you. To where you knew you’d never fit into the life, the family, you had before. It was this revelation, this acceptance that planted the seed that would become his trust.

He believed you would never leave. To say you didn’t believe the same would be a lie.

His seventh victim instituted your fifth rule.

Your information, your input, was accurate; or you paid the consequence.

He nearly lost her because the information you gave him on the tunnel system was outdated. The city filled in some tunnels with concrete to keep the streets above from collapsing, but that information hadn’t made it onto the schematics you found online. You didn’t know he needed the information to kidnap someone, but that was the night you learned it was him leaving women stitched up and bloody in abandoned churches.

The only kindness he showed you was that he did not carve at your sides the way he did with them. But he used the same coarse black thread. He sliced off chunks of your skin and rubbed the same jagged salt into your wounds. And he sewed your flesh to itself to pay back the trouble you’d caused.

All before he dragged you to the edge of his bench, yanked your head back to hang over it, and forced his cock directly into your throat. He gripped your neck as he watched himself slide in and out; and right before he climaxed, he tore at the dreadful stitches with his bare hands so he could cut off your screams with the throb of his dick and gag you on his cum.

After that, your research was tireless, your intel unshakable.

“Did you ever help him kidnap or hurt someone?”

You met her assessing stare, certain that the true reason you were here was because the law, the victim families, needed someone to blame.  Everyone knew it was him, but some rookie hotshot was too excited to get his load off, and the guy they came to arrest ended up in the morgue. You were the only link to him, the only potential prosecutable person. Despite the fact you were, in the most basic sense of the word, a victim, too.

“I gave him the information he asked me for.” You nodded, giving her this admission because it was true. What you told him directly led to the suffering of others. “But I did not take part in any of his crimes beyond that.”

She must have believed you because the interview wrapped up within 30 minutes of that confession. It isn’t uncommon, she told you, for victims to develop Stockholm Syndrome, but your case was particularly severe, and the bond was particularly strong because of it. She would give her report to the detectives, and she scheduled you for another appointment in a few days.

“It will take a lot of work, but you can come back from this.”

Feigning a brief smile, you left, threw the appointment card into the street, and ducked into the nearest taxi. This life, this ‘real’ life, felt foreign, muddled. The car felt too small; the hotel felt too empty. Everything you knew from the last three years was ripped violently from you, and the rest of the world expected that you would pick right up where you left off and carry on.

Inside your room, you dropped your things to the floor. The key clattered, and your bag tipped over haphazardly. Trivial things. Without turning on the light, you dramatically tore off your clothes and, blessedly free from all of that fucking fabric, pondered all the things you didn’t tell Dr. Howard.

You didn’t tell her you hadn’t seen your family since they had found you, or that you didn’t want to.  You didn’t tell her you couldn’t stand to wear clothes when you were in whatever semblance of home you had. He kept you naked for so long, always ready for him, that it felt sacrilegious to hide behind them.

Passing by the full-length mirror, you gazed at your reflection, tracing your outline in the glass.  When she asked why you refused a rape kit, you hadn’t shared how he’d cemented his ownership of you with tattoos, the kind nobody else knew about.  Tattoos he could see in the dark.  Absently, you ran your fingers along the UV ink marking your sternum, admiring the soft glow it lent you. His molded clay. His masterpiece.

You barely heard it, your name whispered. 

It was so soft; you didn’t think it was real. Sobs jumped up into your throat, and you covered your mouth to keep them quiet. You pressed your forehead against the mirror, trying desperately to keep your mourning on the inside of your skin.

Again it came, louder, surer.

Your tears, your breath, your heart stopped.  You whipped your head around to look over one shoulder to the black mass occupying the darkest corner of the pre-fab room. The little desk light switched on, casting that corner, and its person, into a soft glow.

You flew to him, leaping over the bed and shoving the ottoman out of the way. You vibrated, barely managing to not throw yourself into his arms. You only touched him when he allowed it, but the effort to obey in this moment was colossal and brutal.

“You…” Your voice wavered. You lifted bewildered eyes to his, pushing your hands into your hair to keep from reaching for him. “You’re here.”

“On your knees, pet.” The barest hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth up.

It was all the permission you needed. You hit the floor with a thud and pressed your face between his thick thighs. You ran your hands up his sides and fought the urge to tear his clothes to pieces. You slid loose the expensive belt with its silver buckle and tugged pants and underwear out of the way. Your heart rate kicked up higher and higher. Your mouth watered.

When his growing girth sprang free, you kissed the little dip where it met his body, nuzzling your mouth and cheeks there elatedly. Frantic for the velvet feel of his skin, you enveloped his dick with your mouth on a soft whimper. You mouthed and licked and nipped until he was fully erect, straining red and purple.

His ragged breathing drew your focus, searing this minute, and the way he looked, into your mind forever. Flushed, dotted with beads of sweat, lips parted and panting, he was everything you dreamed about these desolate weeks and more. Beyond that, he missed you. You saw it in his face.

Wasting no time, you curled your tongue around the head of his dick and slid onto it, humming at the weight on your tongue. Slicking up his length, you vaulted into a quick pace, bobbing up and down hurriedly. You needed to taste him, to feel the twitch right before he poured into your mouth. His soft groan at your tight, insistent lips had your eyes upon him, which earned you another heavenly purr of approval. He allowed you to worship, to lathe him with your tongue and bathe him with your spit.

But then, he didn’t.

Wide hands wrapped entirely around your skull, and broad hips surged forward to lodge his cock as far into your face, and down into your throat, as physically possible. Where you’d have fought him before, you now groaned. Your body tightened, lengthened, moistened.

Your desire for his meanness was grotesque, carefully curated and expertly executed.

“Did you tell them? Hm?”

He pulled you off of his dick so fast you sputtered. Sticky ropes of spit connected you to him, and you struggled to think. He didn’t give you any time to answer before he bucked forward and sunk back in. You gagged around him. Your tongue jumped and tried to curl up, but he occupied every centimeter of your stretched mouth.

“Did you fucking tell them?”

At the next reprieve, as you sucked down air miserably, you shook your head as best you could against the tangle of his fingers at the back of your skull. You blinked hard to make the two of him combine to one.

“Th-they didn’t ask me that.” You fought to steady your heaving chest, to calm the thunderous beat of your heart. “They think you’re dead.” You bit at your swelling lower lip and tried to hide the falter of your voice. “I thought you died.”

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

Every muscle clenched. You wanted to obey, but you also needed something in this moment. You couldn’t put words to it, but you crumpled, both hands slamming against the floor. You keened, louder than you expected, because the war inside you was too great.

“Please.” You wept, reaching out to clutch at the toe of his shoe. “It’s… it’s been weeks. I need…”

Your dick. Your hands. Your belt. Make me see stars. Make me bleed and scream and burn. Drown me. Bite me. Hit me. Crush me underfoot. Anything so you’ll see me.

The me you made.

“Stand up.” His fingers dug bruises into the soft flesh under your arm and hoisted you up. “Fast.”

He spun you and lifted you onto your toes. You clawed at your own thighs for a bit of leverage, but he held you exactly where he wanted with his incredible strength. With not even a hint of caring, he lined the fat head of his dick up with your opening and slammed all the way home in one vicious thrust.

Valiantly, you didn’t scream. You shook and swallowed hot tears, but you didn’t scream. You remembered the rule, though, and the words tumbled from your mouth louder than you intended.

“Thank you. Fucking Christ, thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

He gripped half of your face in his right hand, shutting you up with a growl and making himself an effective handle. He dug fingers into your soft belly and rammed into you, painfully filling you, driving you mindless. The flutter of his breath at your ear, the sexy grunt against your shoulder, the bite at your throat, all of it coalesced to send you reeling.

“We have fucking work to do.” He groaned into the side of your neck, his thrusts unrelenting but stuttering. “And you’re begging to be fucked like a common whore.”

You squirmed at the lewd squelches coming from your flooded cunt and whined against his palm. You knew you’d pay for it later, for making him wait with your idiot feelings, but even the thought of that lit you up, fire under your flesh. Another gush of molten slick perfumed the air as you imagined him carving you up again or tying you to the bedpost and beating you to sleep.

Cursing, he wrapped both hands around your hips, and threw himself into you recklessly. You plastered both of your hands where his had been to dampen the shrieks you couldn’t possibly keep down. You knew better than to cum without his permission, but he hadn’t even given you leave to beg. Still, your body tightened, and your cunt contracted, dangerously close.

“Say it, pet.” His voice was choppy, split by labored breaths. He was going to spill into your sloppy pussy any second, and you flew, leaving your body until he gouged trenches into your back with his uneven nails. “Fucking say it.”

An otherworldly calm settled over you, slipping you further away from whatever the normal world was and into this mania with him. It was delirious, abhorrent, obscene.

He made you his own pet monster, blood hungry, wanton, and vulgar.

“My name is Eos.” Somehow, your breathy voice was stable. “And I belong to Kylo Ren.”