#Thumbnails are addictive to make

[sincerelywhistler]

In celebration of another successful Hot Boi Summer season, Whistler gets self indulgent and makes cool thumbnails of his OCs and subjects his Tumblr audience to even more shenanigans

CEBALRAI

MONROE

ALIOTH

SAIPH

And some bonus Redactedsona silliness—

WESTON

FOX

+ quite a few more I’ve made for some friends and their blorbos ;)

[cbeargyu]

Ever you think about camboy!yeonjun? 🥺

just chillin'

summary: alone on a saturday night, you stumble upon a camboy's stream by pure accident. what begins as innocent curiosity spirals into an irresistible addiction, especially when he seems to notice you among the thousands. and when he reaches out to you personally... you realize that some fantasies are too tempting to leave behind.

pairing: camboy!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers, slight angst (insecurity), heavy tension, slow burn turned fast, eventual public sex (streamed), slight exhibitionism.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), camboy themes, masturbation (m and f), sexting, sextalk, blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple positions, dirty talk, slight choking, spanking, use of sex toys, praise + possessiveness, masking identities (reader wears a mask, yeonjun wears sunglasses) during public stream, emotional insecurity (reader worried about appearance), reader is implied to be inexperienced or shy, mild degradation (very soft, mostly praise kink), slight breeding kink talk, heavy mentions of viewer comments/donations.

wc: 4,6k

notes: baby, thank you so much for this amazing request, i was blushing like crazy thinking about all the ways i could handle the story, wow, not gonna lie, my favorite request ever, bae, yeonjun camboy is such a concept 😭💗

it’s saturday night, and the house is dead quiet.

your parents left earlier for some family dinner party—you had no interest in small talk with distant cousins or watching your dad argue about politics over cheap wine. your brother, predictably, is out with his girlfriend, probably halfway into some movie or already making out in his car. either way, he’s not coming home anytime soon.

you’ve got the whole house to yourself. all night.

at first, it felt nice—freedom. silence. you curled up on the couch, made popcorn, browsed netflix like it was an olympic sport. but after an hour of half-watching three different movies, nothing could hold your attention. not even the romcoms with shirtless leads.

you switched to tiktok. scrolled. scrolled more. a couple thirst traps. a couple puppies. nothing hit.

you huffed and opened your laptop, fingers drifting without purpose. maybe a gameplay stream would help pass time. something soft. chill. maybe even fall asleep to it.

you searched “streamers live now” and clicked a random site link that looked slightly sketchy.

only—it wasn’t for gaming.

the homepage was dark. black background, bright red accents. pulsing icons and neon outlines. bold letters reading “18+ only. enter responsibly.”

you blinked. hesitated. your heart kicked once in your chest.

then curiosity won.

you clicked.

the page opened with a grid of livestream thumbnails. too many skin tones. too many soft moans bleeding through overlapping audio. most thumbnails showed women—arched backs, lace underwear, fingers between thighs. the kind of content you’d only ever dared to peek at by accident.

you licked your bottom lip without realizing. eyes glued to the screen.

and then you saw him.

a stream titled “just chillin’”. the thumbnail was cropped just below the neck, showing a toned chest in a tight black tank top, arms flexed casually as he leaned back in a gamer chair. loose, light-wash jeans slung low on narrow hips, exposing a hint of red boxers.

his username: yawnzzn.

something about it made your fingers freeze.

there weren’t too many viewers inside. only a few hundred, way less than the others. maybe that was better. maybe you wouldn’t get noticed.

you clicked the stream.

your screen went black for a moment—then it loaded.

he was talking already, laughing softly, the kind of voice that scraped low and slow against your ears. the room was mostly dark, lit only by the glow of his monitor and faint neon strips behind his desk. it cast shadows across his collarbones, the slope of his shoulders.

you quickly plugged in your headphones, pulse jumping.

he leaned forward, adjusting something on the desk, and that’s when the camera caught his chin. his mouth.

his lips were plush, pink, and curved into a lazy smirk.

your whole body froze when you heard it:

“huh,” he chuckled. “who’s ‘babygrl87’?”

your username.

your dumb, randomly chosen username.

you nearly slammed your laptop shut, face burning, heart jackhammering inside your chest.

“didn’t think we had new viewers tonight.” his voice dipped lower, teasing. “you shy, babygrl?”

you didn’t answer.

his chat was wild. emojis, donations, constant messages.

“take the tank top off!” “the new girl better tip if she’s gonna stare.” “yo, yawnzzn, we want the show.”

he ignored most of them. or teased them back.

“which one should go first?” he mused aloud. “shirt or pants?”

your thighs pressed together. he wasn’t even doing anything yet, and your body was already betraying you.

then—slowly—he stood up.

his tank top hugged his body in all the right places. tight against his chest, his waist slim. he stretched, letting his arms lift overhead, showing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. the v-line below his abs? obscene.

you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

then he reached down, thumbs hooking into his belt loops.

“you wanna see more?” he asked, looking directly into the camera. it felt like he was looking straight at you.

“say please.”

his viewers spammed please, but you stayed quiet.

and yet—you couldn’t look away.

he unbuttoned his jeans. dragged the zipper down slow. the denim slid off his hips, falling to his ankles with a dull thud.

your breath hitched.

tight red boxers. snug. low. the bulge underneath them? impossible to ignore. thick, heavy-looking. twitching slightly under the fabric.

you pressed your thighs tighter.

he sat back down, shifting slightly, letting one leg rest wide open on either side of the chair. spread just enough to show off the outline pressing against the boxers.

“you guys are fucking filthy,” he muttered with a smirk. “but lucky for you... so am i.”

his hand dipped under the waistband.

not all the way—just enough to tease.

his fingers brushed over himself, then pulled out, gripping through the fabric, pressing against the hardness. you watched the muscles in his arm tense.

he exhaled softly. deep. like he really needed to touch himself.

you couldn’t stop staring.

his palm moved slow at first, just rubbing the base, then stroking up and down along the outside. the fabric grew darker at the tip. he was leaking already.

you bit your lip hard, your own thighs twitching.

he kept going. breathing heavier. head tilted back, exposing his throat.

“fuck, babygrl,” he groaned suddenly. your eyes widened.

did he just—

“you’re still watching, right?” he said between shallow breaths. “don’t look away. i’m doing this for you.”

he reached into his boxers, finally pulling himself out.

thick. veiny. flushed red at the tip.

he spat into his hand. started stroking—slow at first, then faster.

the slick sound of skin on skin filled your ears through the headphones.

you were hypnotized.

his moans were low and filthy, hips shifting as he fucked into his hand. his tank top bunched up higher on his chest, exposing his abs, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he got closer.

his eyes were heavy-lidded now, lips parted.

“wish i had you here,” he muttered. “wish i could see you... touching yourself too.”

you were. not even sure when your hand slipped under your shorts. but it was there now. fingers rubbing, too fast, too needy.

he got louder.

he leaned forward, panting, fisting himself hard.

“you want it?” he growled. “want me to come for you?”

you gasped. the tension snapped.

you came first.

trembling, breath caught, hand soaked.

he moaned—loud, raw—and came a second after. cum spilling over his knuckles, streaking his abs. he didn’t stop stroking until every last drop was out, breathing like he’d run a mile.

for a second, it was quiet.

only his ragged breath. and yours.

then he talked to the camera again.

“thanks for watching, babygrl.”

you slammed your laptop shut.

you never meant to stay.

at first, it was just curiosity—an accident on a saturday night, when the house was too empty and the silence wrapped too tightly around your neck. you stumbled into his stream, yawnzzn, because it was late, and you were bored, and the thumbnail showed more skin than anything you were brave enough to click before.

you should’ve closed the window. you should’ve gotten up, made tea, gone to bed.

but you didn’t.

you stayed. wide-eyed and still, staring at the boy who leaned back lazily in his gamer chair, the room bathed in the low glow of his monitor, his body relaxed, his fingers moving with casual, devastating confidence over himself.

you didn’t even know his name.

all you had was a username. a voice. a body that looked carved by hands more careful than god’s. long fingers. full pink lips. shoulders wide enough to carry the whole damn world.

you never commented. not once.

you just watched.

he noticed, somehow.

your username would blink into the list of viewers and he’d smile, low and wicked.

“looks like babygrl87’s here,” he’d tease once in a while.

the chat would explode with laughter.

"silent watcher’s back." "she's loyal but shy." "say something, girl!"

but you never did.

you stayed hidden, frozen, cheeks burning, fingers trembling at the sight of him.

and he kept performing for you anyway.

stroking himself slow in the shadows, spreading his legs wide so you could see everything, moaning under his breath, letting his pleasure spill into the microphone until it felt like he was touching you through the screen.

sometimes he'd say things like—

"bet she's watching real close..." "wish she'd tell me what she likes..." "i'll just have to guess, baby."

every time he said "baby," something deep inside you twisted.

you touched yourself to him more times than you could count. memorized every shift of his hips, every flex of his thighs, every low curse that spilled from his throat. his face stayed mostly hidden—just his mouth, his jaw, the curve of his nose—but it didn’t matter.

he had you wrapped around his finger without ever seeing his whole face.

until tonight.

the notification buzzed on your phone and you didn’t hesitate. you flung your laptop open and clicked into his stream before your fingers could even register it.

live now: yawnzzn — "friday chill."

it was late. almost midnight. but it was friday, and you could stay up all you wanted.

the stream loaded—and immediately your breath caught.

yeonjun was different tonight.

he wore a black hoodie, the hood pulled up to shadow most of his face. only the sharp line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips, and the glint of an earring peeked out.

his posture was lazier than usual, sprawled low in his chair, legs spread wide.

and—

only two viewers.

just you. and someone who quickly left.

you were alone with him.

your heart pounded so loud you barely heard him speak at first.

“well, look who it is.” he smiled, a little softer this time. “thought you’d come."

you swallowed hard.

he leaned closer to the camera, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“guess it’s just you and me tonight, babygrl.”

your hands shook.

for the first time, you typed something.

hi.

the word looked tiny in the chatbox. pitiful. but yeonjun froze when he saw it.

his mouth parted.

then—

he laughed.

god, the sound was warm. real. his whole body tilted a little, like he couldn’t believe it.

“no way,” he said, eyes shining. “you’re real. you actually talk.”

you bit your lip so hard it hurt.

he grinned wider, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second. he looked—happy. excited. like you just made his whole night.

"fuck, i should do something special for you," he mused. "loyal watcher deserves a reward."

you hesitated. then, shaky fingers flying across the keys, you typed:

can i see your face?

for a second, the world stopped.

he leaned back, tapping his chin, pretending to think. then he smirked, eyes glinting under the hood.

"only because it’s you," he said, voice low. "only because you’ve been good."

he reached up, gripping the hood—and slowly pushed it back.

you forgot how to breathe.

he was beautiful.

no. beyond beautiful.

his face was unfair.

sharp, slanted cat-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, glinting dark and dangerous under the soft light. a high nose bridge, cheekbones cut clean enough to bleed on. his mouth, god, that sinful mouth—full and pink, curled into a smirk that promised ruin.

he was the kind of beautiful that wasn’t supposed to be real.

the kind that hurt to look at.

your stomach flipped violently. your whole body flushed hot.

he tilted his head, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, and smiled.

"what do you think, baby?" he teased. "worth the wait?"

you couldn’t even type.

he chuckled, low and raspy.

“i’ll take that silence as a yes.”

he leaned in closer, so close the camera almost fogged.

"don’t disappear on me now," he whispered. "you’re mine tonight."

and you knew—deep in your bones—you’d never escape him.

not now.

not ever.

you should’ve closed the laptop.

you should’ve logged off the moment he smiled at you like that—dangerous and sweet, like he already knew what you tasted like.

but you stayed. frozen in your seat, trembling, helpless.

yeonjun leaned back, dragging his palm down his chest, over his stomach, slow enough to make you whimper.

"you know," he said, voice dropping, "i've been saving something… just for you."

he reached under the desk and pulled out something unexpected—not just a toy, but a miniature torso made of soft, rosy pink silicone, barely the size of his hands.

it was shaped like a woman’s lower half, smooth thighs tapering into the curve of hips, and right between them, the detailed, glistening folds of a pussy. obscene. delicate.

lewd in a way that made your stomach twist. the soft rubber glinted under the light as he turned it in his hand, spreading lube over it like he was preparing you instead.

a thick stream of it spilled out—over his hand, over the soft pink opening of the toy, dripping lewdly.

your breath caught.

he grinned lazily at your silence, clearly enjoying the way you were glued to the screen.

"thought about using it a couple times," he murmured. "but it didn’t feel right without you here."

your thighs pressed together, trying uselessly to ease the heavy, aching heat between them.

your mouth went dry.

he groaned under his breath, squeezing some over his own cock. it was already hard, thick and flushed red at the tip, veiny and heavy between his thighs.

your whole body clenched at the sight of it.

yeonjun caught the way you froze.

he chuckled, low and warm.

"you like watching, don’t you?" he teased, voice velvet-soft. "such a dirty little thing, just sitting there all quiet for me."

you couldn’t even type back. your hands were gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

he slicked himself up slowly, deliberately, hissing as his fingers wrapped around the base.

then he grabbed the toy.

"gonna pretend it’s you," he said, smiling in that way that made your head spin. "gonna fuck you so good, baby."

he eased the tip of his cock into the toy, slow, teasing.

the lube made everything shine under the dim light, making it look so wet, so messy.

a broken moan left his mouth as he pushed deeper.

"fuck..." he whispered, hips twitching. "you'd feel so fucking good around me."

he started moving, thrusting lazily into the toy, one hand gripping it tight, the other braced against his thigh. his head dropped back, lashes fluttering, mouth parting on soft, desperate sounds.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer.

"babygrl," he moaned, hips stuttering. "wish you were here... wish you’d let me hear you."

you pressed your thighs together harder, trembling, burning with need.

he moved faster now, fucking the toy like it was real—like it was you.

the wet sounds were filthy. obscene. echoing through your headphones like he was right there in the room with you.

"bet you’d be so tight," he panted, thrusting harder. "all hot and wet for me… fuck, i’d ruin you."

he gripped the toy tighter, biting down on a groan.

you watched every second—hypnotized, devastated.

watched his hips buck, watched the muscles in his arms flex, watched the way his stomach tensed up when he got close.

he didn’t look away from the camera once.

he fucked that toy like he was making love to you.

slow, deep, passionate.

like you were the only thing he ever wanted.

your chest heaved with every breath, nipples aching, panties soaked beyond salvation.

and when he finally shuddered, spilling hot and thick into the toy, moaning your username again in that wrecked, desperate voice—

you knew you were already ruined.

he slumped back in his chair, panting, hair a mess, lips swollen and wet from how hard he’d been biting them.

and then—

he smiled at you. soft. sweet. devastating.

"thanks for staying with me, baby," he whispered.

the screen went dark a few seconds later, leaving you staring at your own reflection, wrecked and trembling.

alone.

but never lonely again.

you hadn’t gone back.

not because you didn’t want to.

god—you did. more than anything.

but it was too much now.

something had shifted in you after that night. after watching him fuck that toy like it was yours—moaning your username like it was sacred, like he needed you to breathe.

you couldn't stop thinking about it.

the way his hand moved. the way his voice cracked when he came. the way he smiled right before the screen went black.

he ruined you, and he didn’t even know it.

you tried to forget him. muted the notifications. ignored the replays. avoided even opening the app, like a coward. like a girl who couldn’t trust herself not to break down and need again.

because now when you thought about him, it wasn’t just lust—it was hunger.

two weeks passed.

you didn’t watch a single live.

but you did think about him. in the shower. in your bed. in the quiet moments when no one was around. and every time, you pressed your thighs together and tried to chase the ghost of his voice in your head.

you thought you were safe. that this distance would protect you.

until the dm.

at first, you didn’t believe it. you were half-asleep, phone in hand, thumb swiping lazily through random memes—until the little red dot appeared in your inbox.

no one ever messaged you. even though you were kind of known in his chat, everyone respected the line. no dms. no creepiness. everything stayed inside the stream.

but this—this was different.

you opened it slowly, heart thudding.

yawnzzn [11:32 PM]: been kinda sad u haven’t joined the lives lately :( miss seeing ur name pop up every night.

your heart stopped.

it was him.

he messaged you first.

and now everything inside you was heat and panic and that same damn ache he always left behind.

you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, your whole body on fire from just one line.

he missed you.

he noticed you.

and worst of all—he cared.

you stared at the screen for what felt like an hour.

your thumb hovered over the keyboard, mind racing, heart hammering. he’d messaged you. yeonjun—yawnzzn. the boy you’d been secretly watching for months, who moaned your username like a lover, who made you cum more times than you could admit.

and now he was in your inbox. waiting.

you breathed in, deep and shaky. then finally, you typed. slowly. carefully.

you [11:46 PM]: i’m sorry i disappeared… i’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed lately.

your chest felt tight when you hit send.

you almost didn’t expect him to answer right away—but less than a minute later, the typing bubble popped up.

yawnzzn [11:47 PM]: overwhelmed? like… because of me?

your face burned.

fuck.

you should’ve lied.

but maybe it was the way he asked it—gentle, teasing, soft.

you hesitated for a second, then typed again. a little braver.

you [11:49 PM]: yeah. i think watching you became… a little too much for me.

you hit send before you could regret it.

then added one more line.

you [11:49 PM]: you make me feel things i don’t know how to deal with.

there was a long pause.

long enough to make your stomach twist. long enough for you to want to unsend everything and run.

but then:

yawnzzn [11:53 PM]: …fuck. that’s probably the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

your breath hitched.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: i thought maybe i was imagining it. the way you looked at me. how you never talked but always stayed until the end. i always felt like… you were watching differently.

you swallowed hard, heart in your throat.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: can i ask what it is exactly i make you feel?

his words lingered on your screen, sweet and dangerous.

you could lie.

or you could tell the truth, even if it made your skin burn and your thighs clench and your whole body betray you.

you told him.

typed it all out, trembling fingers and flushed skin—how much he turned you on. how just watching him made you ache. how you’d touched yourself to the sound of his voice so many times it scared you.

he didn’t tease you.

he just replied:

yawnzzn [12:02 AM]: you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that from you.

the next night, he asked if he could call you. just for a second. just to hear your voice.

you hesitated. but then said yes.

the screen lit up with his face—hoodie on, smile soft, and it was dark in his room.

you couldn’t show your face right away.

your camera stayed off while you whispered hello.

you expected him to sound different. more confident. more teasing.

but he didn’t.

he sounded gentle. nervous. warm.

“can i see you?” he asked softly. “just a glimpse?”

your heart pounded as you turned your camera on. you were in a hoodie. no makeup. hair a mess. you hated the way your stomach twisted.

but he smiled.

really smiled.

“wow,” he whispered. “you’re… so much prettier than anything i ever imagined.”

you only lasted five minutes before you panicked and hung up, stammering out an apology.

he didn’t push you.

he just texted:

yawnzzn [12:28 AM]: you looked beautiful. thank you for letting me see you.

the days after that were soft. messy. hot.

late-night texting turned into slow, sticky sexting.

he’d ask if you were touching yourself. you’d ask what he was wearing. sometimes, he’d send you voice notes, low and breathy, moaning your username until you were whimpering into your pillow.

eventually, he asked to see you again. in person this time.

you said yes.

but something about it scared you—the way your heart twisted at the idea of being real to him. what if you weren’t enough?

and then, the idea.

he texted you in the middle of the night:

yawnzzn [1:03 AM]: what if we did a stream together? i could blur your face. or you could wear a mask. sunglasses. anything. i just want them to see that i’m finally fucking the one person i actually wanted.

your heart stopped.

you said no, at first. embarrassed. shy. it felt too raw, too exposing.

but that night, in the dark, with your hand between your thighs and his voice playing in your head, you imagined it.

imagined being on his lap. riding him in front of the same camera that once made you weak. imagined hearing him moan your name into your neck while the whole world watched.

you texted him at 2:11 AM.

you [2:11 AM]: i’ll do it. but only if i wear a mask.

his room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and a red led strip that cast everything in that deep, sinful color. your silhouette, perched on your knees between his thighs, looked unreal—masked, trembling, mouth parted in anticipation. he was already hard, the thick outline of his cock pressing against his grey sweats, and the stream had barely started.

yeonjun leaned back in his chair, lazy smirk on his lips as he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone.

“they’ve been begging for this,” he murmured low, his mic catching every syllable. “but they don’t get you. i do.”

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down with teasing slowness. the chat was explodingalready—hearts, donation pings, horny messages flying too fast to read.

his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and leaking, and you didn’t waste time—your lips wrapped around the head while he hissed through clenched teeth.

“fuck—yes, baby. just like that,” he moaned, voice rough and trembling.

you bobbed your head slowly at first, tongue circling the tip, making sure to be loud about it—each wet suck and messy slurp caught by the mic, echoing through the stream like the soundtrack to a dream. he groaned and held your hair back, letting everyone see the way your lips stretched around his cock, eyes glossy behind the lace mask.

“look at her,” he murmured, gaze flicking to the camera. “taking it so good, like a perfect little slut. you’re so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs twitch. spit dripped down your chin as you took him deeper, and he let out a breathless chuckle.

“they wish they were me,” he said, licking his lips. “but only i get to feel this mouth. only i get to fuck it raw.”

you choked a little when he gently thrust into your throat, but you didn’t stop—you loved it. you loved knowing thousands were watching you drool and gag around him, craving something they could never have.

he pulled you up by your arms, lips crashing onto yours in a messy kiss. his cock was wet between your bodies, twitching, desperate.

“get on my lap,” he growled, voice thick with need.

you straddled him, one hand guiding him to your entrance as you slowly, so slowly, sank down.

the stretch was unreal, every inch of him filling you up, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“oh my god,” you gasped, hips rolling instinctively.

he grunted. “fuck, baby… fuck, you’re tight—been dreaming about this cunt since the first time i saw your name in my chat.”

your hands clung to his shoulders, bouncing gently on his cock as he held your waist and thrust up, hard and deep.

“yeah? you like showing them what they can’t touch?” he panted. “you like knowing they’re all jerking off to you being mine?”

you nodded, dazed, flushed all over.

“say it,” he growled, slapping your ass.

“i’m yours,” you whimpered. “all yours, yeonjun…”

“that’s fucking right.”

he adjusted the camera angle, making sure it caught your pussy swallowing his cock over and over as you rode him in a rhythm that made your thighs shake.

“fuck, baby, i can see how wet you are,” he groaned. “dripping down my balls—look at this mess. they’re fucking jealous, huh?”

you moaned loud, thighs burning, your mask slipping slightly but you didn’t care—you were too far gone.

he dragged you up, twisted your body so your back was against his chest, legs spread wide as he pistoned up into you.

your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a string of helpless cries leaving your lips.

he reached down, thumb circling your clit fast and tight.

“you gonna cum like this?” he panted in your ear. “with all of them watching? gonna cream on my cock while the world sees who really owns this little pussy?”

your body jerked, climax rushing over you in a tidal wave of heat and noise, clenching hard around him as he grunted and chased his own.

then he flipped you over onto the desk, bending you forward, ass up for the camera.

“still not done,” he murmured, slipping back in. “they’re gonna watch me fill you up.”

he fucked you hard, fast, raw. each thrust loud and wet, your body shaking, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“so tight, baby—gonna cum so deep—gonna knock you the fuck up on stream, yeah?”

“yes, yes, please—cum in me, yeonjun—fuck, i want it—”

he groaned, shuddering, cock pulsing deep inside as he came, buried to the hilt.

and right before he reached over to end the stream, he leaned in, kissing your masked cheek.

“mine,” he whispered.

then the screen went black.

but your moans still echoed in the dark.

[oswanily]

Sifix Dresses Medieval Recolor Dump

Yes, I know, there has been a bunch of those already… But most of them are for upper class ladies. I wanted my middle class girls to have access to these dresses too, but I doubt they would be able to afford shiny silk dresses, so I tried to make the dresses more plain looking. I did these a while ago, but I never shared them, so here they are now.

Meshes included thanks to Sifix and her open terms of use.

What you get:

20 dresses (the preview is missing one I am aware)

20 swatches each from my Medieval Mayhem palette shown under the cut (I was still tweaking the palette at this point so some might differ slightly)

Most of them don’t have shiny fabric anymore (some still do, I will eventually remove the shine, but I don’t remember which dresses still have it and which don’t and have no time to check right now)

No custom thumbnails because I can’t be bothered tbh

Each dress has the same name as the Sifix dress it’s a recolor of (with my username in front) so if you like the shape of a dress and want to get the original, fancy version, they’re easy to find!

them all sitting together like this in CAS was pure luck but I am very happy about it

These come in a .rar file, meaning you have to extract them. do not put the .rar in your mod folder!

Tag me if you use it in your screenies so I can see! And feel free to contact me if there is any issues, so I can fix them.

By downloading any of my CC, you agree to my TOU.

Download: SimFileShare

Reblogs are appreciated!

@ts4medieval @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @emilyccfinds @public-ccfinds @alwaysfreecc thank you!

Yes I will post more medieval CC in the future since apparently I am addicted 👀

[mossgoblins]

Addicted to making thumbnails.

[slut4hee]

I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

{Paring: Subscriber Jake Sim x OF Model Blk Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, cyber sex, onlyfans au, Jake’s a college student, 18+ so mdni).

{Synopsis: In which jake has found himself addicted to getting off by watching ebony porn, but ever since he’s stumbled upon your OF account, he’s become your number one supporter.

{Warnings: explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, video call sex, fingering, jerking off, dirty talk, usage of toys, body worshipping, Jake likes to be praised, ass lover Jake, lmk if I missed anything too lazy.

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Jake was hooked, ever since he came across your post on twitter promoting your onlyfans account, he’s been draining his pockets on you every single week. He legit spoils you, from sending you cute little outfits he wants to see you wear on your streams, and all types of toys for you to play with yourself, while he abuses his dick until he can’t go on anymore.

Jake can remember the first time he ever watched Ebony porn, he was painfully hard scrolling through different porn sites, just trying to find that one good flick that would relieve all his stress from work. His usual search browser consisted of hentai porno, and of course Asian girls. But that night, he stumbled across a video titled “Big Booty Ebony girl gets pounded into mattress”.

He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, he was so hesitant at first, because of what background he comes from and out of fear of being judged by his friends and family. But Jake couldn’t resist the undying twitch in his pants, he couldn’t lie and say his cock wasn’t getting harder, as he stared at the erotic thumbnail of the video.

Finally he stopped hesitating and clicked on the video, and fuck was it the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He watched so intently while pumping his cock furiously, it was the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his life. Ever since then, it’s the only porno he can get off to, saving various videos and pictures of Black pornstar models.

//

Jake tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently, watching as customer after customer flooded into the comic store. He had 10 minutes left in his shift, which was feeling like forever. He tried not to show his irritation towards the customer, checking his watch every second he could, his coworker was running late like always he was over it.

Thankfully his coworker finally walked through the door, yawning dramatically, as he greeted Jake. Jake simply nodded real quick, rushing from behind the counter to get to the time clock. You’re probably wondering why Jake is rushing to get back to his apartment, well, recently you hosted a raffle for a chance to have a private video call session, for your dear subscribers.

The rules were simple, never miss a single one of your streams, endless gifting, and last but not least, a picture of a dick that’s bigger than 6 inches. Lucky for Jake, he never misses your streams, always being the first person to join, gifting you almost everything off your wishlist, and not to brag, but Jake had a cock of 8inches.

It was no surprise that Jake had won, but it was still so shocking to see a dm from none other then yourself. His heart racing as he read your message, announcing that he had won the video call session, and setting up a date and time.

He then made it to his apartment, the familiar smell of his once burning candle welcomed him back.

He quickly kicked off his shoes, dropping his backpack on the couch, and making his way upstairs to his bedroom. His dick was already throbbing in his pants, as the dirty thoughts of tonight’s affairs clouded his mind.

He took a nice hot shower, shaving his pubic hair, to make sure he’s nice and smooth for you. It almost felt like he was getting ready for a date, spraying on cologne as if you could smell it through the screen, and making sure his hair looked presentable.

//

Jake laid in his bed, only wearing his boxers, with his laptop in front of him. You had sent him a dm, asking if he was ready to start the video call, Jake was so nervous but aroused at the same time. Finally a notification of an incoming video call popped up on Jake’s computer screen, causing him to jump at the ringing sound.

He touched up his hair a little before answering the call. His jaw dropped when he took in the sight of you sitting at your usual desk setup, your room covered in pink and white. You were just so beautiful, you were clad in a pink bikini bra, a pink thong, and your hair was braided in pink and black braids.

He just stared at you in awe, too stunned to speak, as he started to drool from the mouth. Finally your sweet voice knocked him out of his trance, his heart racing like crazy.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Simjaeyun1115, I’ve been excited all day for our special session” You smiled at him, twirling the ends of your braids, as you enjoy the view of Jaeyun. Honestly you were thinking that he was probably some old guy, hiding behind the screen, being that Jaeyun didn’t have a profile picture. What you weren’t expecting was Jake to be this fucking sexy, his silky black hair falling down his face nicely, his slim yet toned physique pleasing to the eye, and he has a fucking Australian accent?!

“Hi Y/n, y-you’re so pretty wow I- wow” He tripped over his words, running his hands through his hair, biting his lip because he was so distracted by your beautiful body in the camera, you made him shit nervous. You giggled at his nervous expression, smirking and biting your lip as well, he was so freaking cute.

“How was your day Jaeyun?” You inquired, getting close to the camera and adjusting the too little bra that’s barely holding your tits in. Jake eyes followed, swallowing hard before answering your question, he was surprised you even cared about his day and he couldn’t lie and say that didn’t give him butterflies.

“My day was good, just went to class and work, that’s pretty much it” He nodded, licking his lips as he goes from staring at your pretty face, to your soft looking plush thighs. You giggled again, before putting your hands on your boobs.

“Do you like my boobies Jaeyun?, is that why you can’t pay attention to anything I’m saying?” You purr seductively, rubbing and fondling your own tits. Jake’s breath hitched, his cock jumping at the action, fuck you were his guilty pleasure.

“Y-Yes I do, s-sorry it’s just like, you’re so goddamn sexy and I’ve been waiting for this moment since I found your account and- Fuck I sound like a desperate loser I’m sorry” He rambled, nervously looking away and running his hands through his fluffy hair. You cooed at his shy expression, blowing a kiss at him through the screen.

“No need to apologize baby boy, I like your desperation so much, it’s my favorite thing in the world” You said softly, playing with your nipples as you let out little sighs of pleasure.

“Also you can call me Jake, if you don’t mind, I mean Jaeyun is my real name but I go by Jake- I’m rambling haha” He nervously laughed, adjusting his position on the bed, letting you get a peak of his boner straining through his gray boxers. You moaned out loud at the sight of it, his big bulge making your mouth water.

“Damn Jakey, you really do have a big cock, at first I thought the picture was photoshopped, but you really are packing” You said kinda in disbelief, feeling yourself growing wet in your panties. Jake’s face became beet red, nodding and swallowing hard, as your words went straight to his dick.

“Are you ready to play with me baby?” You smirked, unraveling the tie of your bikini bra, your boobs bouncing free. Jake let out a pathetic gasp, squeezing on his hard cock through his boxers, as if he’s trying to tame it.

“Fuck they’re so big, wanna suck on your pretty brown erect nipples so bad baby” He groaned, palming himself, as he watched you bounce your tits up and down in front of the camera, you know he loves when you do that.

“Would you squeeze them too baby? Would you rub and tease my sensitive nipples between your fingertips hm?” You moaned, sticking your fingers inside your mouth, as your other hand rubbed your wet pussy through your panties.

“Fuck yeah baby, I’ll suck on them, abuse those cute little nips of yours” He smirked, biting his lips, his Aussie accent was so strong and sexy fuck he was turning you on so much.

“Take your dick out please, wanna see it so badly” You purr, already lifting your body up from the chair and taking off your pink thong, a string of your clear sticky arousal following behind. Jake looked at you with hazy hooded eyes, as he lifted his body from the mattress, tugging his boxers down, his hard cock spring free with precum dripping from his pink slit.

“Such a pretty fucking cock, shit wanna suck the life out of you Jakey” You whined, his cock looked so firm, standing tall and proud, as it twitched at your praise. He smeared the precum that stained his mushroom tip, using it as lubrication and stroking his base.

“Would you suck it nice and slowly? Or would you deep throat and make it really messy for me” He asked, groaning as he stroked his cock at a slow pace, making sure not to overdo it or he would blow his load too quickly.

“I like to give messy head, lots of spit, I like my throat fucked daddy” You whined, spreading your legs open, exposing your glistening pussy to his eyes to feast on. Jake sped up his movements slightly, curses falling under his breath, as took in the sinful sight of your melaninated pussy on display for him.

“Shittt, look at that pretty little pussy, god she’s so wet, I can tell you want this just as much as I do darling” He whined, his breathing becoming harsher, as he edges himself from coming undone. You stood up from the chair disappearing from the camera, Jake frowned and pouted, asking where did you go. You came back into frame, your full nude body in the camera as you held something behind your back.

“What are you hiding princess, show me” He moaned, halting his movements as he waits for you to show him what you’re hiding.

“I got something special for you today my love” You smiled, before pulling what’s behind your back, and showing it to the camera. It was 8inch dildo, it looked exactly like Jake’s, the tip pink with veins running down the sides of it.

“Fuck baby, is that supposed to be my dick?” He said breathless, stroking himself again, as he imagines how you’re going to fuck yourself with the dildo. You nodded, biting your lip as you centered the toy on the chair.

“I searched all around to find a cock that looked identical to yours, I was able to find the perfect one online. Just wanted to make it as realistic as possible” You moaned, as you sat back down on the chair, lifting your legs and spreading them wide.

“That’s so damn hot babe, can’t wait to see you stretch that tight little cunt out” He grunted, squeezing his balls and smearing more precum on his tip that leaks out.

“How do you want me to fuck myself Jakey?” You smiled mischievously at him, playing with your boobs again.

“Want you to fuck yourself reverse cowgirl, I want to see your ass bouncing on it” He said through gritted teeth, sitting up straighter, as he leaned his back on the headboard.

“That’s your favorite huh? You like to see my fat ass bouncing on cock baby boy?” You turned your body around, your plump ass now facing the camera, as you smacked your own asscheek. Jake whined, begging for you to stop teasing and make him cum already.

You started to play with your pussy, rubbing little circles on your puffy clit. Jake watched you so intensely, his cock so stiff and wet.

“Spread that pussy open for me beautiful, I wanna see how tight she is” He said, licking his lips that’s now going dry, sweat drips down his forehead and his room now feels hot and stuffy. You obliged immediately, spreading open your slippery folds, showing off your pretty pussy.

Jake almost busted his nut, your brown pussy lips with pink inner shell, had him holding his breath. You slid two fingers inside your tight cunt, prepping yourself to take the 8inch toy. The squelching sound of your fingers penetrating your pussy, comes through Jake’s computer, He whined at the filthy sound.

“Come on baby no more teasing please, I need to see you riding my cock now” He begged, eyes wide and lust clouded. You nodded frantically, obeying his commands, you lined your hole up with the tip of the dildo, making sure you’re looking back at the camera as you start to slowly sink down on it.

You let out a little squeak, the thick mushroom tip breaching your tight little hole. Jake’s shoots worlds of praise and encouragement towards you, calling you a “good girl” or “you can take it sweetheart”.

“Oh my, oh fuck so big shit” You whined, your lips already quivering from the intense stretch. Jake chuckles softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“Sit all the way down on it babe, if I was actually there right now I won’t be nice to you I’ll make you feel it” Jake smirked, as he watched you slowly sit all the way down, letting out a pained moan. You stayed still, as you let yourself adjust to the size of it, your chest heaving up and down.

Finally the pain turned into pleasure, as you start to rock your hips back and forth slowly.

“Ahh shittt Jake, you’re so deep inside me oh my god” You screamed out, looking back at him, as you fastened your movements. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, throwing his head back as he matches your pace stroking his heavy length.

“Hell yeah baby girl, take that fucking dick just like that” Jake moaned loudly, his voice husky and deep with ecstasy. You adjusted your position, getting into a squatting position, as you started to bounce on the toy faster. The feeling of the dildo reaching so deep inside your guts, touching your cervix had you crying out loud, chanting Jake’s name like a mantra.

“Jake Jake, oh god Jake your cock feels so good, please don’t stop” You whined, feeling your stomach tightening, drool dripping from your mouth.

“Fuuuck that’s it, feels good huh? Like how I’m deep inside that kitty baby? Spread your asscheeks open for me I wanna see that little pussy being torn apart” He sighed in pleasure, pumping his cock at an almost inhuman speed. You bit your bottom lip, spreading both asscheeks apart, a ring of your creamy arousal coated on the base of the dildo.

Jake let out a pathetic whine, feeling himself getting painfully close to his breaking point, he had been edging himself for quite some time now, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“God baby, I’m close I’m close, need you to cum with me okay?” He panted, his strong accent pushing to the edge. You were already dangerously close as well, feeling the knot in your stomach threatening to unravel. You reach down between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast circular motions, pushing yourself to the edge.

“JAKE! I’m gonna cum oh shit I’m gonna fucking cum” You cried out, a sudden wave of pleasure coursing through your body, as you came hard around the dildo, your creamy sticky essence, dripping down the sides of the cock. Jake followed right behind you, releasing a guttural moan, shooting thick spurts of white cum, making a mess of himself.

You both path heavily, trying to catch each other’s breath from the intense orgasms. You whined out of sensitivity, your legs trembling as you slowly pulled off of the toy, collapsing in the chair. Jake looked at you with drowsy hooded eyes, smiling at you like a lovesick idiot.

“That was the best nut i ever had in my life” Jake murmured, his body feeling weak and limp. You nodded in agreement, smiling like a lovesick fool as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard with anyone else but you Jakey” You giggled, wiping the wet off your forehead and getting closer to the camera.

“Does that mean I have chance for another video call?” He smirked.

“Fuck a video call, how would you like to meet up?” You winked.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗇𝖽…

A/n: Gir- I- he’s so hot I’m sorry no words no words I absolutely enjoyed writing this bc wtf he’s so damn sexy😤 but I hope you guys like it! Reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated🫶🏽 not proofreading shii homegirl😀

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Taglist:

@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @kolawnk

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eleven

The beeping is driving him kind of crazy. It’s familiarity an uncomfortable reminder. He’s tried pulling the sticky thing off but that just made a bunch of people come running, and then he got a professional explanation as to why he’s a moron, and not to touch the equipment.

That just leaves him here, languishing. His head is pounding, his mouth feels like some rough assed creature rolled around in there and then took a dump on the way out. He keeps running his tongue along the back of his teeth, they’re furry, and there’s a new little chip off one of the bottom ones. Eddie investigated it with his fingers, so he knows it’s tiny. Feels massive when he finds it with his tongue though, physically unable to make himself leave it alone.

He doesn’t remember doing it. Might have happened when he was drunk.

Might have happened in the bathroom, when he was done shoving stuff up his nose, he's pretty sure he fell over.

Might have happened when they had to shove the tube in.

He doesn’t know, but it’s no ones fault but his own.

Chrissy comes in carrying a coffee. One coffee. Nothing for Eddie. She sits and sips at it, not saying a word.

Her eyes are still red rimmed, bags under them from being up all night.

Truly, Eddie is the greatest waste of space on the planet. Someone should just ditch him off a cliff and have done with it.

Chrissy sighs, giving up on whatever she was doing on her phone, she holds it between laced fingers instead, clasped hands dangling between her knees. She stares off into space.

She still hasn’t looked at him.

Eddie guesses he deserves that.

There’s nothing he can ever say to make this any better.

Eddie’s being discharged in the next hour or so. He’s pretty sure he’s done. His career was hanging by a thread; the label won’t tolerate such a massive screw up. Eddie doesn’t really care about that stuff; he cares about the guys. He cares he might not get to write for the band any more.

He finds himself suddenly desperate to write again. He figures he must suddenly have something to say. He was angry with himself, in the face of Chrissy’s tears, but anger is a hot emotion, it burns bright and takes a lot of energy to maintain.

Self loathing, apparently, is low maintenance and Eddie feels like he could keep that up indefinitely.

His throat hurts, and all Chrissy has allowed him is ice chips to suck on.

He doesn’t expect Steve to turn up. Doesn’t know what to do when, at the sound of a knock on the open door, he looks up and finds Steve standing there.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but Steve comes in anyway. Sits himself in the seat next to Eddie’s bed. It feels like a small, dumb thing to worry about, but Eddie has never liked rocking the hospital gown of shame; he likes it even less right now.

“Why did you do it?”

Eddie shrugs. Looks at his own hands. He had a couple of rings on, before. They’re gone now. Eddie’s been too frightened of what Chris will say if he asks for them back. He picks at his thumbnail instead.

“Because I said no to coffee?”

Eddie does his best to make a dismissive noise, but his voice is croaky and fucked from the tube. It hurts to swallow, and Eddie feels like he has to force it.

“Don’t lie,” Steve says quietly, “this is exactly why I said no. Because of this.”

Eddie makes another ‘pffft’ noise, or at least, tries too. “Because I’m an unstable drug addicted alcoholic-”

“No. Because you’re not ready. Eddie, I said no to coffee, and you’re in the hospital, what if we got together, and then broke up. How well do you think that would go, exactly?”

Eddie curls his hands up, staring at them, shamefaced. It feels like he’s being eaten alive by it, feels like he’s dirty and used up inside and the darkness of guilt and shame and worthlessness is going to crawl out of him and eat him whole. Steve's words gnaw at him, painful. They could have had something, and now Eddie's fucked it up before it started.

“How did you know?” Eddie looks up, everything a little misty. He seems to cry at fucking everything. Wet and pathetic and not like he used to be. He never used to be like this, before. He can’t remember ever feeling like this in his life. “How do you always know?”

Steve and his magic mind powers.

Steve sits back in the chair. Rubs at his face for a second. Watches the silent TV.

“I had rich parents,” Steve starts, speaking quietly. He pauses, then continues, but it’s halting. It’s the first time Eddie’s thought Steve sounded uncertain about anything, “big empty house. They were away all the time, especially once I was kind of old enough to be left. My place was where the party was at. I was drinking every Saturday by the time I was seventeen. Then every Friday and Saturday. Then Sunday afternoons. Then Thursday too. It was every day before I realized, and I graduated by the skin of my teeth. It got worse at college. The partying. Started to realize if I was going to keep up I needed something to pick me up a little, get me going in the morning so I could make it to class. Pills first, when I was partying, then other stuff. I flunked out pretty fast. Parents put me through rehab once, but the second I was back at college I relapsed. Couldn’t seem to help myself. The second time they put me through, they disowned me right after, and that was the end of college too. It was...bleak. For a while. But that's how I always know; I know how you think, because I used to be the same.”

That hangs. It hangs for a long time, like Steve’s memories are lingering in the room with them. Eddie feels like he should apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

He’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be worth anything, anyway.

He desperately wants to write; feels even more that if he doesn’t get this bubbling overwhlem of emotions out of himself somehow he’s going to end up plastering the walls when he finally explodes.

Steve stands, finally, and Eddie’s eyes are automatically drawn up to him. Steve leans forward, his hand in Eddie’s nasty hair. His big hand gripping and cradling Eddie’s entire head. Steve leans down, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. It’s warm, soft, and Eddie’s eyes slide closed and his hands lie limp and useless on the hospital blanket covering his lap.

“Remember, it’s what you do now that matters,” Steve whispers into Eddie’s hair.

He doesn’t expect the tug, but he’s limp and washed out feeling, knowing now the weight of everything Steve went though. Everything unsaid. Absent parents and missing out on whatever it was he wanted to pursue at college. Bleak, Steve had said. The word carries a lot of weight, coming from Steve. Eddie has no doubt he’s severely understating.

Eddie’s head moves with Steve’s hand, his eyes are still closed when Steve’s lips move to Eddie’s mouth.

It’s not like anything he imagined. It’s devastating. Steve kisses like he’s pouring his everything into Eddie.

Like he’s angry.

Like he’s frustrated that Eddie fucked this up for both of them.

Steve’s kisses are bitey and it won’t be until later that Eddie will finally have the wherewithal to be surprised that nurses didn’t come running considering how fast the monitor is beeping.

Steve doesn’t ask permission, he sucks on Eddie’s lip so hard it hurts, and when Eddie’s mouth opens on a pained gasp, Steve’s tongue invades with no hesitation. His hand is tight in Eddie’s hair; Eddie can’t move an inch as Steve holds him where he wants him, Eddie’s scalp stinging.

Steve’s kisses are an argument that Steve’s already won.

By the time Eddie manages to blink his eyes open, Steve’s already gone.

The guys all have some sort of cocktail, Eddie doesn’t say anything. It means Eddie’s drink looks exactly the same, which doesn’t bother Eddie, hasn't for a long time, but if it makes everyone else feel better, then he’ll go along with it.

They’re all celebrating; drinks in the back of a limo on the way to the airport feels a little gauche celebrity to Eddie, but the guys are giddy with the excitement of success and it feels just a little contagious, even to Eddie, who always sidelines himself from that kind of celebrating. Feels like he's kind of allergic to it all now, knows instinctively that it might poison him again.

Chrissy squeezes his hand on the seat, hidden from where the guys can see, but he knows what it means. Well done. I’m proud of you. I’m unbelievably fucking relieved you’ve held your shit together for a whole tour.

That kind of thing.

Eddie kind of likes flying. Well, he doesn’t like the idea of flying commercial. Eddie likes the comfort of the private jet, of course he does. No, the reason Eddie kind of likes flying is because he can’t really do anything for the next seven hours.

He has a book with him. He has his note books. He has a pen.

The low rumble of the jet is his companion, and all he can see is bright white clouds beneath them so there’s nothing to distract him there. Eddie writes.

He scribbles things out. He changes the order. He...nudges things along until the tune presents itself. And it does. It almost always does.

He hands one off; it’s not complete, but it’s complete enough that the guys should look. He listens with his eyes closed as the music is hummed, Gareth pacing up and down the wide isle.

Eddie half sings the words under his breath to match.

It sounds pretty good. A little janky maybe, but still. A solid start.

“Nearly got enough for another album,” Jeff tells him.

Eddie blinks his eyes open again, “yeah? That one okay?”

They say no just as often as they say yes now. Eddie doesn’t mind. He understands why half his stuff ends up back in the notebook. He agrees with their judgement. Some of what he writes now is different than it used to be, before everything.

“Yeah man,” Gareth tells him, “it’s great.”

Gareth and Jeff share a look, sliding into the seats opposite Eddie’s table. Eddie shuffles his things, moving some of his scrappy paperwork out of their way. Something is coming, Eddie can read them.

They’re definitely about to say something.

“You know those tunes you’ve written,” Gareth nods at Eddie’s notebook.

“The rejects,” Eddie confirms lightly.

Jeff rolls his eyes, “you know it’s not because they’re bad.”

Eddie knows. Eddie privately thinks some of it is the best stuff he’s ever written. But the guys almost immediately picked the first one out as ‘not their kind of thing,’ and since then Eddie’s had a pretty much fifty fifty pass fail rate with his songs. “I know...they just don’t sound like Corroded Coffin.”

“No...they don’t. But we’ve been talking,” a little curl of apprehension forms, because those words never seem to precede anything good, “and we thought you might have enough of that stuff for a double album by now.” He probably does. He nods, not sure where this is going.

Chrissy had suggested to him, once, that he make the tunes available to other artists. Ones whose style is better suited to the music. At least get it out there, and then just get the royalties, like a proper, grown up song writer. The thought of it had been physically uncomfortable to Eddie. These are his tunes, his music, and they...mean something to him that they never ever could to anyone else. The thought of letting someone else perform them feels gross.

“Anyway, if you want, we thought we’d do something with them.”

“Do what with them?” Eddie frowns, not understanding.

“Well...kind of like a Corroded Coffin unplugged, kind of thing. Or maybe like...just under your name, and we could still play for the recording, kind of thing. Just release the record as is. Or you know, get some other people in on it, there’s plenty out there who have wanted to collaborate. You know some of them would fall over themselves for a chance at guest performance.”

Eddie shuffles his papers, appreciates what the guys are saying, “can I think about it a minute?”

“Sure,” Gareth smiles big, “you know Chris will support you.”

And considering everything they’ve been through, Eddie knows without a doubt that she will.

Eddie shuffles though the rejects. It’s an affectionate name that he mostly never says aloud. He checks them over, makes sure they’re complete. Thinks about if he’d really like to hear them being performed.

He must do, really, since he’s confidently handed every one of them to the guys at some point to see if they liked them or not. If they'd pass muster, then the next thing along would have been to try performing them. That’s the workshop stage. The part where the guys wade in on the final polish. The listen back.

These never made it, so other than tinkling out on his acoustic, Eddie’s never heard any of them for real.

He could. He could now.

Eddie’s no stranger to bearing his soul in the form of his music.

Without really thinking about it, Eddie realizes he’s organized them into the order he’d like to see them on the back of an album cover.

He wonders what Steve would think of this album, if he ever heard it.

“Okay, yeah, I’m in. For the,” Eddie gestures at his scrappy notes, “you know.”

“Eddie, that’s amazing!” Chrissy gushes a little, and suddenly Eddie realizes that, actually this idea might not have, entirely, come from the guys.

“I have a condition, kind of.”

“Okay?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. Steve’s words echoing, what would Dolly do? “I don’t want to make any money from this. I want to donate. All the profits. My part of the profits. I don’t know where to, but, yeah...somewhere that helps people who are,” Eddie shrugs, “you know. Struggling? With...stuff?”

Chrissy covers her mouth with her hand for a second, her eyes already looking suspiciously wet. She’s hugging him, hard and tight, sniffling, “of course we can do that,” right in Eddie’s ear.

“Me too,” Jeff says, “so, two thirds profit.”

“Obviously I’m in, all profits get donated.”

Eddie watches them over Chrissy’s shoulder, “you guys don’t have to.”

Jeff shrugs, “the fuck else we going to do with it? You seen the houses we already live in, right? Gareth’s got six cars.”

Eddie snorts a laugh.

Part Thirteen

[tamarahtalkstv]

Can You Imagine Thinking Of, Making, And Posting A Video Like This And Believing That Other People Need Help And Not You?

If you dislike certain fictional content, characters, or ships, then you don’t have to, but don’t make a video essentially telling people who like fiction and are AntiHarassment to get help.

There’s nothing to get help for unless someone can’t differentiate fiction from reality and condones it in real life.

As much as I want to make fun of this video, I also don’t because I actually feel really bad for the person behind it.

I don’t want to make massive assumptions, and I don’t think others should either, but I’m actually a bit concerned about them because no one makes a video with a fucking title or thumbnail like that if they’re okay.

Either something is wrong, they wanted to trend hop and clout chase on a popular topic right now, or both.

Fandoms and shipping going mainstream on YouTube was a terrible, terrible mistake.

2025 Edit:

I was going to address this in a much larger post and I still plan to, but since this post is getting traction again I should really say something before this gets more out of hand and scary.

I can’t go into too much since I’m saving some of it for the larger post, but to put it simply I’m not upset at them leaving the ProShip community.

I actually don’t think it’s that much different from an AntiShipper becoming a ProShipper.

I’m upset at the wording used in the title and thumbnail. I just don’t like how they framed it.

The thumbnail made it sound like they’re talking about a disease or an addiction.

This goes without saying from me, but don’t harass the YouTuber behind this.

Not only is that against what ProShipping is about, It’s wrong and it’s gonna be bad for everyone involved.

The YouTuber behind it commented on my video and they seem really nice.

I didn’t like their video and their comment scared me, but they were kind so please don’t go after them.

TL;DR:

I made a mistake and I’m sorry.

Please don’t harass the original creator of the video or me.

I plan to go more in depth about this post and others like in the future, but for now I’ll have to give you all this.

I’m sorry.

[luffyszoo]

Koby x reader

AN: thank u for the love on my luffy fic!! means alot and i have more on the way

anyway i thought this might be a cute idea, feeding all the koby fans, i love him too

CW: this fic will contain nsfw, koby has a praise kink, and whimpers audios

• lowercase is intentional, modern AU

summary: you text koby for the notes you missed today and he accidentally sends u a video. (ehheheheh)

➽─────────────❥

you shrug, honestly brushing it off at first. the thumbnail was just pitch black, and you figured it was nothing—probably some random video he took by accident and got embarrassed about sending. whatever. you ended up finishing the notes anyway, thanks to the ones koby gave you.

still, you couldn’t help but wonder... what was in that video that made him panic? and why did he tell you not to look? curiosity eats at you a little. it can’t be that bad, right? you unlock your phone and open koby’s messages. the same black screen thumbnail is still sitting there, untouched. you hesitate for a second, then hit play.

the room goes quiet. all you hear at first is the sound of blankets shifting, soft and rustling. you let out a small laugh.

“oh my god, he probably recorded this on accident—”

but then you hear it. a little whine. “ngh, fuck..” not loud, but just enough to make you stop. it catches your attention. you realize what this was. your heart skips a beat as it hits you. you throw your phone onto the bed like it burned you, but the video keeps playing, the sound now echoing in your room

he’s still going.

the noises coming out of his mouth make the walls around you feel smaller. and your body hot. but still... you don’t stop it. you don’t mute it. you just sit there, listening. something in your stomach twists. the sound of his heavy breaths his soft murmurs and whimpers, threading through the phone speaker did things to you, your face was flushed a bright red, your eyes flick to the phone again. the screen has dimmed, but the audio plays on, relentless.

you should stop it. you should look away, delete it, pretend you forgetten everything. but you don’t. instead, you reach over for your headphones, connecting to your phone quickly and pressing the volume button up, just a little.

you tell yourself it’s curiosity. but, your legs start to ache. your hands start to move lower and lower until you fully taken off your shorts. your pointer and middle finger rubbing your self with your panties in between.

koby’s video got more intense, the sound of his blankets moving faster and moaning louder, “hah— shit, feels so good” you pull your panties to the side and spread your legs a little more open as you start rubbing your cunt. his whimpers sound like hes on the verge of tears, matching with his slimey noises repeating. it was so cute.

“oh fuck— please, please, ah— i wanna cum for you so bad, i need you so bad.” the wet noices got louder, he seemed to take off his blankets since you stopped hearing them ruffle around the mic. he repeatedly said your name. over and over again mixed with cries of the pleasure. “im a good boy r-right? so good? hah—hah- shit…” he huffed and murmured inbetween every word.

you couldnt help, but pleasure yourself. from the shock of him saying your name and the way he sounded, it was so addicting, like you couldnt stop even if u tried. “am i doing good? tell me i- ah— that i am… please” the wet lewd sounds got faster, and so did you. taking your fingers and inserting them into you pushing in and out trying to matching his pace. you were so close but you didnt want to finish until he did too.

“fuck— ah, fuck— gonna cum..” koby couldnt contain himself anymore. he went even faster the whimpers and moans got faster and faster until finally the last thing he said before finishing was your name. that all you needed for you to cum aswell. huffing after what you just did the video ends. now you’re just there now, in your room. confused as fuck. you close your notebook’s with the otherhand and go to the bathroom to take a shower.

[a-haunting-memory]

Can you write general dating HCs for Overlord! Husk with gn! reader?

Warnings: slightly suggestive?? Mentions of gambling, yay!

A/n: I tried to make a new thumbnail and due to the lack of overlord Husk content in the Hazbin series I opted to use a fan art. Sadly I couldn't find the author of it, so if you know the artist who drew the third pic, please let me know who they are so I can credit them! Thanks.

You have a deal with him that you don't go to any casinos except his. It's better for you that way anyway since you get free drinks, you can sit in VIP lounges and all that fancy stuff.

If you happen to be hanging around his casino and it looks like you're not doing anything in particular, he'll ask you to sit with him to watch him smugly gamble against others.

If he's in a good mood that day, he'll pull you into his lap, drape a paw over your waist or maybe even wrap his tail around your ankles while he bets against others.

If you ask him why he wants you around most of the time, he'll just brush it off saying you're his 'lucky charm'.

Bored? He will gamble with you for fun from time to time too. Usually you keep it entertainment-purposes only, which means no big bets or none at all (but where's the fun in that?). "How about we play strip poker, hm?"

There is a possibility if you two got bold with the gaming, he might ask you to gamble for your soul, (it would be easier for him to keep an eye on you if he got a hold of it) but if you say no, he won't force you to. You don't want to? Fine. (First he might tease you a bit about you being afraid to lose tho)

He will give you expensive gifts for no exact reason. I'm talking about stuff like jewelry that he thought you might like or some shiny stuff (dragon vibes lol).

He will take note for the future of what you said you liked and will bring you more specific gifts for special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries etc.

He's not ashamed of your relationship for sure, but he's not loud about it either. He doesn't want you to get into any trouble like running into some old enemies of his or even some mad addicts who will take out their anger on anybody who's related to him/his casino.

He's not a big fan of the classic public displays of affection (like holding hands, snuggling in one of the lounges or basically anything too 'soft'. After all he has an image to uphold).

However, behind the closed doors it looks different. If you lay down with him, snuggle up and scratch him in the right spot he'll turn into a grumpy but adorable kitten.

There is an issue tho. To achieve that, first you'd have to manage to drag him out of the casino and force him to take a break. Good luck with that! You cannot forget he's an addict!

[riotwritesthings]

Fixation

WinterIron, E, 7.5k - Romance, Fluff, humor, developing relationship mapped to parts of the mouth, weird mouth stuff in general

Target Audience: sloppy kissers, people who miss smoking, biting enthusiasts, and as always; my fellow perverts 💖

this is weird, idk, but it consumed my brain and wouldn't leave me alone. hold my hand and let's go on an adventure. happy pride month.

~~~

Tony notices that Bucky has a bit of an oral fixation not long after he moves into the tower.

It would be hard not to notice, Bucky can usually be found- when he can be found- chewing on his nails, or the cheap pens that Steve leaves everywhere, or just tapping his thumb against his lips while he reads or watches TV. Eventually, Tony notices that the amount of hard candies on the shopping list has gone way up, and it's nice to know that Steve finally convinced Bucky that he can add things to it.

Tony has something like half of a theory about it, something related to the mask that Hydra forced Bucky to wear for years- decades- and simply the fact that he can stick things in his mouth now-

But then Tony starts running into Bucky chain smoking on the roof during his own sleepless midnight wanderings, and Bucky always stubs his cigarette out with an apology- even though Tony would never judge a man from the 40's for sticking with a century-long addiction to magical health sticks, especially when that man has super soldier lungs- and eventually they start actually talking, and Tony stops working on his half-assed theory.

He tries not to over-analyze his friends, on principal, because that comes dangerously close to analyzing himself, and he doesn't do that just as a general rule.

Which is probably the reason it takes Tony so damn long to figure out why he can't stop noticing Bucky's fixation, why he starts noticing it more, even after he stops wondering about the reasons- The way the corner of Bucky's mouth pulls tight as he worries at his thumbnail or the way his lips looked wrapped around the dented plastic cap of a pen- the way he smiles-

After that little realization, Tony starts wondering about Bucky's mouth in entirely different ways.

  lips

"We have got to find you something else to chew on," Tony says as he leans across the small table to wrap his fingers around Bucky's wrist, gently tugging Bucky's hand away from his mouth.

"Oh," Bucky says, blinking in mild surprise at the sluggishly bleeding edge of his thumbnail and then wincing as he adds, "Sorry."

"Apologize to yourself," Tony says, shrugging one shoulder and dropping back down into his side of the booth- refusing to let his hand linger on Bucky's wrist- "Or maybe to the poor staff here," he adds, shooting a non-subtle look around the small restaurant, "I'm pretty sure you're giving them 'starving cannibal' vibes."

"So our food should come faster, then?" Bucky asks with a small, toothy smile, and Tony tries to fix him with an unimpressed look- but it quickly dissolves into snickers as Bucky continues grinning.

"Maybe," Tony has to admit, still chuckling, "although if you get us kicked out of my favorite burger place for zombie accusations, I will be pissed." He leans across the table a little and lowers his voice dramatically as he adds, "I may never bring you back."

Bucky makes a face to show that he's appropriately horrified at that prospect, and Tony nods seriously.

Then he watches as Bucky's gaze flicks down to the chipped tabletop between them, over to the wall of newspaper cutouts and New Yorker head-shots- as Bucky starts to lift his thumb back up toward his mouth before catching himself and quickly dropping his hand again, grabbing for his soda and catching the straw between his teeth instead.

"Are you having trouble sleeping again?" Tony has to ask, "or- are you nervous about something? Arm acting up?"

As he runs through his guesses, Tony tries to tell himself that he has not been over-analyzing Bucky, just because he's noticed the things that have Bucky chewing on himself a little more aggressively- As Bucky considers the question, tipping his head from side to side, Tony has to wonder if 'obsessively watching' Bucky is really any better than trying to psychoanalyze him.

It'll probably end worse for Tony, in the long run, if he's not even trying to defeat this stupid crush-

"Yeah, I guess so," Bucky admits finally, his expression twitching, and doesn't actually confirm which of those options it is.

Tony waits a couple of seconds, in case Bucky wants to elaborate, but Bucky just stares down into his coke like it holds all the secrets to the universe and gnaws on the straw like that will get him the answers- So Tony decides to go with distraction instead. He's better at distractions anyways.

"Okay, but what if-" Tony starts, and then waits until Bucky glances up at him before smiling wide and asking, "Is it offensive if I suggest we get you a chew toy?"

"What- Yes," Bucky says, laughter escaping in a rush like it's been startled out of him, his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile so big that it shows off his dimples, and Tony grins wider.

"Okay, sure-" Tony says, nodding thoughtfully, "but what about a teething ring? Like for toddlers?"

Bucky's nose wrinkles as he seems to consider that, and Jerry the waiter gives them an odd look as he drops off his food. Bucky digs in instantly, and Tony takes a second to eye the mountain of bacon on Bucky's burger- and the way Bucky has to crane his mouth open so wide to actually take a bite.

"They do make bacon-flavored chew toys," Tony points out as starts adding a row of fries to his own reasonable, mouth-sized burger, "and I'm not saying it needs to squeak-"

"Oh it better squeak, or what's th' point?" Bucky interrupts to say seriously, because he's kind of perfect- even with a smear of ketchup in the corner of his mouth, and Tony can only laugh as his heart swells almost painfully in his chest.

  tongue

"Hey honey," Tony croons when he spots Bucky coming towards him down the hallway, just because he can now.

He can throw out all the cheesy, obnoxious petnames that he wants and Bucky just has to deal with it, because despite all the times Tony told himself it would never happen, they are dating now- Speaking of which-

"Have you decided between pizza or Chinese tonight?" He asks, slowing his steps and watching in amusement as Bucky continues stalking towards him, "Because- Mmh!"

His question turns into a muffled sound of surprise and delight when Bucky steps right into his space and plants his lips on Tony's- his hands finding their way to Tony's hips and his momentum carrying them both along until Tony's back hits the wall.

"Hey doll," Bucky says in reply, pulling back just enough to get the words out- the shape of his smile so obvious against Tony's lips, and Tony is losing his train of thought-

Then Bucky's tongue drags along the curve of his lower lip, slowly, lips hovering teasingly over Tony's- like Bucky just wants to feel- And Tony loses track of whether or not he even had a train of thought as a warm shudder makes its way down his spine. All of his breath escapes in a hard rush and then Bucky really kisses him, pinning Tony a little more firmly to the wall as their lips catch and slide together.

Tony arches and tightens his grip on Bucky's hips, gently catching Bucky's lip between his teeth. He tastes like overly-sweet blue candy and just a hint of something bitter.

"Did you chew through another one of Steve's pens?" Tony asks, letting their lips brush with every word just to feel the way Bucky shifts restlessly against him.

"Don' tell 'im," Bucky says distractedly and flicks the tip of his tongue over the bow of Tony's lip. One of his hands finds its way to Tony's jaw, tipping his head back and kissing him deeper.

Bucky licks into his mouth with a slow, lazy determination- Tongue sliding over the edge of Tony's teeth and lingering on the tip of his canine, tracing the line of Tony's gums before moving onto the ridges of his palate and it-

It's weird, it's definitely weird kissing- more of a studied exploration than Tony has ever experienced before, and he's done a lot of kissing- And maybe it's the time commitment put into the tactile exploration of his entire mouth, or just the fact that it's Bucky, but it always makes everything inside him go molten.

"Could jus' kiss you forever, baby," Bucky breathes out and then catches Tony's lower lip between his, licking at the dent where Tony had been chewing on it earlier.

Tony has a response lined up, about how that might get a little awkward during team dinners, and he doesn't think they'll both fit in the armor when they get called out- But before he can say any of it Bucky is kissing him again, deep and drugging, tilting Tony's head exactly where he wants it-

The only reply Tony can manage is pulling him in closer and they fit together perfectly when Bucky's thigh slips between his own. Tony melts into it eagerly, letting Bucky's thumb against his chin pull his mouth open a little wider-

"Really?" Comes a pained voice from somewhere to the left, "It's not enough that I need to use extreme caution when entering the living room, now you're gonna ruin the hallways, too?"

Tony reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, thumping his head back against the wall and blinking a couple times as he tries to clear his head- his gums tingling and the phantom drag of Bucky's tongue still running along the roof of his mouth-

Then he turns to address Sam.

"You say that like we have some kind of evil plan here," he complains, tapping his finger against Bucky's hip and not thinking it through before he adds, "maybe we're just questionably-young and in love."

Tony has a split second to wonder if he can take that back before Bucky makes a soft, low sound in his throat as he presses Tony a little more firmly against the wall, and okay- it sure doesn't seem like he minds- and Tony doesn't really want to take it back, even if that was not the way he planned on saying it for the first time-

"No, I'm pretty sure you're just tormenting me," Sam says thoughtfully, fixing his eyes a little too dramatically on the ceiling- it's not like they have their dicks out- "Between this, the living room, and the Quinjet that one time," Sam continues, and Tony winces because that one is fair, "it's starting to feel very personal."

"Tell 'im it's not about him," Bucky grumbles under his breath, his hand sliding from Tony's jaw up into his hair as his lips move across Tony's cheek- not even bothering to look over at Sam.

"Okay, it seems he has an evil plan," Tony says instead and grins when Bucky huffs against his skin, "but I was minding my own business and heading-" He doesn't actually remember now, so it can't have been that important- "Somewhere, I'm sure, before I was abruptly and rudely accosted without reason-"

"I ran outta candy," Bucky fills in, and his teeth catch at the edge of Tony's jaw before he adds, "an' then, there you were."

"Ah, well that explains it," Tony says while Sam makes a series of disgusted sounds and spins on his heel.

"I'm still happy that you're happy," Sam calls, his voice raising so they can hear him as he pointedly walks away without looking back, "but I'm starting to wish you would be happy in private, you know?"

"I think that's homophobic," Tony mutters and Bucky laughs against his throat- teeth barely catching against Tony's pulse- Tony waits, and when Bucky bites at him a little harder he says, in his flattest voice, "Squeak."

It knocks all the air out of Tony when Bucky collapses against him, wide shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter, and Tony grins proudly as he winds his arms around Bucky's waist.

  palate

When he wakes up in the middle of the night to find the other side of the bed cold, Tony rolls over and grabs his phone from the nightstand.

Squinting at the bright screen, he slowly types out 'Quit chainsmoking and come back here.'

He's not actually watching the clock, but he's pretty sure less than five minutes go by before Bucky is back in the bedroom, moving like a shadow as he crawls up the foot of the bed.

"Didn' wanna wake you," he says, his voice extra rough and the scent of smoke rolling off of him.

"You beautiful fool," Tony says as he tosses the blankets aside and pulls Bucky in, feeling the chill still clinging to his clothes, "you absolute and complete gorgeous moron-"

"Alright," Bucky protests with a huff of laughter, settling heavily on top of him.

"- You know I can't sleep without my personal space heater, anymore," Tony finishes, only a little breathless as he arches up against Bucky's weight, "now get down here and kiss me."

He doesn't actually wait, just yanks Bucky the rest of the way down and greedily licks the taste of unfiltered cigarettes from his lips. Bucky kisses him back without hesitation, easily sliding between Tony's sprawled thighs and forcing them wider around his thick waist.

Tony drags his teeth too-roughly along the length of Bucky's tongue, chasing the awful, amazing flavor of tobacco and smoke and countless deadly chemicals. Bucky shifts against him with a low sound, metal fingers shoving into Tony's hair and his cock twitching against Tony's hip.

"Thought you don' like me smokin'," Bucky says, sounding dazed as he rocks against Tony- lets Tony go back to sucking on his tongue hungrily-

"I never said that," Tony eventually remembers to reply, tightening the leg wrapped around Bucky's waist even though he's not sure when it got there. He pauses while Bucky bites at his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth until it throbs, and then admits, "I can't be around the smoke anymore, but god do I miss it sometimes. Like when investors are pissing me off-"

'Or when I'm drinking,' he doesn't add, because he's trying not to do so much of that either, anymore-

So instead he pointedly grinds up against the line of Bucky's cock and then finishes- "Or after sex."

Bucky hums thoughtfully, but he looks a little too distracted for Tony's liking, so the obvious solution is to pull him down- to lick and bite the hint of a frown from Bucky's lips. In no time Bucky is melting into him again, his hips barely rocking in place as he lets Tony taste every part of his mouth- a low, pleased hum starting in his chest that vibrates through Tony's in the best way.

Tony gasps as chilled metal fingers trail down his side, sending shivers across his skin, and Bucky sucks at his lower lip for a moment before pulling away.

"So if I have to stay here an' play space heater," Bucky says, his lips dragging along the line of Tony's jaw and then down his throat, "an' if you're not gonna let me break th' candy in bed rule-"

"- No," Tony says firmly, shuddering at the memory of the cherry-red smears on his favorite pillowcases-

"- Then does that mean you're volunteerin' to be my chew toy?" Bucky finishes, pressing a brief kiss to Tony's collarbone before glancing up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Love the way you phrased that," Tony says dryly, pretending they both can't feel his cock twitching in response, "absolutely yes, how could I refuse? I mean, the romance of it all- Can I go back to sleep while you do that, or do you want active participation-"

Bucky surges up and kisses him quiet, licking slowly over the roof of Tony's mouth before flicking the tip of his tongue against Tony's teasingly. Tony sucks in a sharp breath and clutches at Bucky's sides, chasing the contact of Bucky's warm tongue against his, curling too-briefly against Tony's before withdrawing, the occasional hint of teeth making him ache-

And before Tony quite knows it his tongue is hanging out of his mouth, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his cock fills quickly enough to make his head spin.

Then Bucky's tongue spreads flat against his, so warm and slick with spit and Tony doesn't care that he can feel drool starting to slide down his chin, that he doesn't even know who's it is- Bucky drags his tongue against Tony's in a slow, lingering swipe and all of Tony's breath escapes in a hard, hitching rush, his fingers digging into Bucky's sides as heat twists in his core-

Bucky continues kissing him shallow and sloppy, sharing the flavors of smoke and sleep between them as their tongues slide- curl- tangle in the open space between their mouths- The catch in Tony's breathing is so obvious as they pant against each other-

The tip of Bucky's tongue teases all along his, dragging a whine out of Tony's chest as the contact inexplicably goes straight to his cock- After lingering on the center of Tony's tongue for an extra long second, Bucky pulls away just enough to speak.

"D'you have a scar there?" Bucky asks, his voice low and hoarse, rumbling through the fraction of a space between them.

Tony has to swallow thickly before he can reply, his mouth filled with spit that tastes like nicotine and fuck- that shouldn't be as hot as it is, but Tony is burning- his cock throbbing and leaking every time Bucky's hips rock down against his-

"I used t'have my tongue pierced," he finally manages to reply and he's caught off guard by the ragged sound of his own voice, the needy whine in it-

Bucky makes a rough sound in his throat and then kisses him deeper, tongue plunging into Tony's mouth like he's looking for any other scars or marks that he's managed to miss until now- licking at the insides of Tony's cheeks and the back of his teeth- Kissing him until all Tony can taste is them, warm static filling his brain and his limbs heavy with pleasure.

He has to gasp for air when Bucky finally breaks away to leave biting kisses along his jaw, his head spinning and his eyelids heavy. Tony's cock is throbbing with need and he can feel the damp smears of precome he's leaving on Bucky's jeans- but he's also melting heavily into the bed as Bucky's mouth continues moving down his neck.

"You- mm, you have turned me into a weird kisser," Tony complains without any heat, only dimly aware of what he's even saying as Bucky's lips and then teeth drag along the line of his collarbone, "I am ruined."

Bucky hums out a pleased sound and presses his lips to the edge of one of the scars sprawling across Tony's chest, then firmly says, "Good."

Tony huffs out a laugh that bounces Bucky's head in place, then sighs when Bucky's warm tongue starts to trace one of the thick ropes of scar tissue that surround the arc reactor- the oddly muted feeling of Bucky's fingers or lips or tongue against the ruined skin always making him melt once he accepted that Bucky wants to touch-

"You're weird," Tony adds fondly, lazily lifting one hand and flailing it around until his fingers find and bury in Bucky's soft hair, just holding on as Bucky shifts against him- as Bucky's hot mouth moves to cover his nipple. "You're lucky that I'm into it," he says, breath hitching as Bucky's tongue circles- "And that I love you. T-The two- Mm, they may be related."

Bucky hums in agreement, hips lips curling into a smile against Tony's skin. He scrapes his teeth over the sensitive nub of skin- overly sensitive after the ghostly touches to his scars- and Tony jerks with a gasp, his cock twitching against Bucky's stomach and fuck- he'd almost managed to forget that he's hard, that his gut is twisted up with want.

He lets out a hard breath when Bucky's tongue flicks over his nipple, sending warmth pulsing through him in slow waves- teasing the skin to a peak so Bucky can pull it into his mouth and catch it between his teeth-

Tony groans as his hips twitch weakly, his entire body heavy with pleasure and the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. His cock throbs with every warm drag of Bucky's tongue, but there's no demand in it- just lazy pulses of arousal as he melts and sinks down into the mattress- his eyelids fluttering as his grip on Bucky's hair loosens, getting lost in the sensations of Bucky's lips and tongue working his skin like Tony is his favorite piece of candy.

By the time Bucky pulls away with a final drag of his tongue Tony's nipple is throbbing and he's half asleep. Bucky shifts over to the other side of his chest, catching and rolling the other nipple between his teeth, and Tony drags in a sharp breath as his head spins.

"Will you- Mmm," he starts, tipping his chin down and forcing his heavy eyelids open before he can lose his train of thought, "will you be offended if I really do fall asleep?"

"Depends," Bucky says, licking his lips and then looking up at Tony with a toothy grin, "will you be offended if I keep chewin' on you?"

Tony wants to tease him about the choice of words again- because seriously, Tony did not think this chew-toy-anology would drag on for so long- but it also seems like so much effort- Especially when Bucky makes a show of sticking his tongue out and dragging the length of it slowly across Tony's peaked nipple.

"Go crazy," Tony says in a rush, letting his head thump back against the pillow and his eyes fall closed again, "but I better not wake up soggy."

Bucky laughs softly, his lips descending on Tony's skin again, and time goes liquid- Slipping past in a haze of Bucky sucking marks into his skin- Bucky's tongue dipping ticklishly into his bellybutton and Bucky's teeth against his thigh.

Tony jolts somewhere closer to awareness when Bucky licks up the length of his cock, groaning breathlessly as Bucky's clever tongue teases at the slit- as Bucky slowly takes him in with the barest hint of teeth-

He thinks he says something- or tries to say something- as the heat of Bucky's mouth wraps around the head of his cock, Bucky's tongue tracing slow and methodical paths along the underside.

Tony knows that he groans out a slurred attempt at words when the tip of his cock drags along the roof of Bucky's mouth- the texture softening as he slides deeper- into the tight warmth of Bucky's throat-

And then Bucky stays there, his tongue pressed flat to the underside of Tony's cock- rippling occasionally just to make Tony throb-

"Bucky-" he sighs- floating- And Bucky hums around him-

Swallows around him- throat muscles working before Bucky goes still again, letting out a slow breath through his nose that ghosts across Tony's skin.

Tony sighs again, and he drifts.

He wakes up to the tint on the windows barely starting to lighten, not quite letting in the morning sun. Bucky is fast asleep, sprawled across Tony's legs with his head resting on Tony's stomach and one of his arms wrapped tight across Tony's hips.

There are teeth marks and hickies Tony only half-remembers on his chest and thighs- right at the base of his cock- and a warm ember of arousal still burning in his core.

Tony tangles his fingers in Bucky's hair again, letting his eyes fall closed, and drifts back to sleep with a smile.

  canine

"Do you want to go to another charity gala with me next month?" Tony asks, frowning at the screen of his tablet like maybe the email will just turn around and leave his inbox.

"S're," Bucky says without hesitation, his voice muffled around the knuckle of Tony's finger caught between his teeth.

Cosmos continues to play on the massive living room TV as Tony kicks his legs out, sprawling further down across the couch so he can drop his head back to rest on Bucky's thigh. Then he has to tip his head to the side so he can actually see Bucky around his own arm stretched up toward Bucky's face.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at him and curls his tongue around Tony's finger before pulling it further into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing.

"You know I'm not going to mind if you say no, right?" Tony has to ask, raising an eyebrow right back at him, "it's going to be as not fun as last time. Lots of rich assholes that aren't me, cameras, old ladies getting handsy, I'm gonna drink too much sparkling cider and still manage to eat all the shrimp hors d'oeuvres before you get to them-"

Bucky lets Tony's finger pop free from between his lips with a laugh and says, "Stop, stop, I'm already convinced." His hand around Tony's wrist stops Tony's hand from going far, and his gaze flicks between Tony's face and the assorted teeth-marks he's left all along Tony's index finger.

"Really?" Tony asks, raising both of his eyebrows now and trying not to get distracted when Bucky presses a sweet kiss to the tip of his finger, "you do remember the last one, right? When you almost punched out that senator and then threatened to steal his job, of all things?"

A sharp smile spreads across Bucky's face before it abruptly shifts into a pout- and the downward curve of his lips is for show, but the hint of doubt in his voice is very real as he asks, "D'you not want me to come with you?"

"Of course I want you to," Tony says in a rush, nearly tripping over the words in his hurry to get them out.

He drops his tablet onto his stomach so he can throw his arm up over Bucky's thighs, wiggling his hand between Bucky and the armrest of the couch in an awkward sort-of-hug. With the hand still trapped in Bucky's hold he even more awkwardly pats as Bucky's cheek, ignoring the way Bucky's nose wrinkles at the spit smearing across his skin.

"I'd take you everywhere, if I could," he says with feeling, "but Pepper insists R&D is not the place to bring a date."

"Then I'm goin' with you," Bucky says simply, pulling Tony's hand over enough to place a kiss in the center of his palm, and Tony can feel the shape of his smirk as he adds, "'M gonna make you dance with me again, though."

"Wow, what a threat," Tony says dryly, trying and failing to fight down a wide grin, "will the romance of it all never cease-"

Bucky's breath puffs warm against Tony's skin as he laughs, so much fondness in his eyes that Tony can't to anything but smile back- and he knows his expression goes soft and dopey when Bucky starts placing lingering kisses across his palm. Bucky's lips move up the underside of Tony's ring finger, still meeting Tony's eye steadily, and then he sucks Tony's finger into his mouth all the way to the third knuckle.

Tony's breath catches as Bucky's teeth fit perfectly into the dents lingering at the base of his finger, as Bucky clenches and grinds his jaw just hard enough to work the marks a little deeper- the very back of Bucky's tongue so warm against his fingertip as Bucky sighs out a slow breath through his nose, his blue eyes dark and molten-

There is a constant ring of teeth marks at the base of Tony's finger, at this point- sometimes faint, sometimes nearly bruised when Bucky has just been working at it, and Tony is starting to take the hint, thank you very much-

"What is happening in here?"

Tony turns his head just in time to see Clint stumble forward as Natasha walks into his back, because Clint still hasn't figured out not to do abrupt stops in doorways around here. Natasha rolls her eyes and puts a hand on Clint's shoulder to steady him, then shoves him further into the room so she can step around him.

"We're watching Cosmos," Tony says pleasantly, like he's not fully aware that that's not what Clint is talking about, and he can feel Bucky smile around his finger when Clint makes a couple frustrated sounds.

"And does that usually require cannibalism?" Clint asks pointedly as he follows Natasha over to the other couch, making a series of faces that Tony is pretty sure he's been practicing in the mirror for maximum effect.

Tony considers feeling appropriately shamed, then smiles up at Bucky again as he asks, "I hadn't actually considered that, have I been watching this show all wrong up until now?"

Bucky dig his teeth harder into Tony's finger so it won't slip free as he nods seriously, Clint makes another weirded-out noise, and Natasha snorts out a laugh as she grabs the remote to change the channel. Tony is going to complain, because they are sort of watching watching that, but then she puts on The Great British Bake-off and Bucky perks up, and Tony decides to let it go.

Clint, though, isn't letting anything go.

"You've gotten extra weird lately," he complains as he makes himself comfortable, because apparently they're not too weird to sit and watch TV with. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm going to go ahead and recommend you start smoking again," he says to Bucky, "for my own sanity, if nothing else. I'm pretty sure I saw you chewing on a knife, the other day."

"Was a pract'ce blade," Bucky says dismissively, letting Tony's finger slip out of his mouth just enough to get the words out.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Clint says, his nose wrinkling.

"Like you have any room to talk," Tony breaks in, shooting Clint a pointed look, "you use the arrows I painstakingly designed for you to clean your teeth." Tony pauses for a second, considering, and then adds, "I'm upping everybody's dental coverage."

"Shh," Natasha hisses, her eyes fixed on the TV, "they're about to make 's'mores.'"

Tony has to laugh at the heavy verbal air quotes, and the way the mention of dessert has Clint's attention snapping to the screen. Tony lifts his arm from where it's draped over Bucky's thighs to pick up his tablet again, planning to actually reply to the charity gala email, but it pulls his attention up when his finger suddenly goes cold- sliding free from Bucky's mouth entirely.

Bucky is not at all distracted by sweets, his lips pulled down into a thoughtful frown as he asks, "D'you think cigarettes miss me, too?" His voice is soft and so genuine that is startles a loud burst of laughter out of Tony, and Bucky's frown turns into a pout.

"They don't, honey," Tony says apologetically, lowering his voice and fighting down more laughter before Natasha can shush him again, "and I told you that you don't have to quit." Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony knows what he's going to say, so he cuts Bucky off to add, "I was joking about stealing one."

Bucky just hums, still unconvinced, and nips at Tony's knuckle before his attention drifts up to the TV- tongue curling around Tony's finger to pull it back into his mouth like it's second nature.

  bicuspid

"Oh, fu-uck," Tony groans as Bucky sinks back into him so slowly, making sure he can feel every inch of Bucky's cock as it stretches and fills him and oh fuck Tony is going to lose his mind-

"Yeah," Bucky sighs, sounding dazed- His lips dragging against the side of Tony's knee as his hips press flush to Tony's ass again- "So fuckin' perfect, baby."

Bucky grinds into him, the fat head of his cock nudging impossibly deeper and the worktable creaking in complaint beneath them- threatening to skid across the floor because Tony still hasn't gotten around to bolting this one down-

Then Bucky starts to withdraw at the same agonizing pace- again- like he's just going to keep tormenting Tony with slow thrusts that barely avoid his prostate, that have everything inside Tony shaking every time he's filled again.

And there's not a damn thing Tony can do about it- tools and random bits of metal go flying as he struggles for purchase, leverage, anything- But the table is polished smooth and he'd be sliding away if not for Bucky's metal hand planted low on his chest, keeping him pinned firmly in place- he can't arch up to force Bucky to move faster, and he can't quite reach Bucky to- he can't-

Tony snaps, a little bit.

"Faster," he demands, the word tearing out of him as his arm twitches and another wrench goes flying- as he tightens his knees over Bucky's shoulders and tries to pull Bucky back in- "Harder-"

Bucky groans and his other hand slips a little further up Tony's thigh, fingers digging into the darkening teeth marks dotting Tony's skin and pinning him down harder- Tony gasps, the twist of arousal in his core and the throb of his cock almost painful-

"You- Haa, fuck- You said we should t-take our time, for once," Bucky reminds him, his voice a low growl and his eyes moving constantly over Tony, from his hips to his chest to his arms- lingering on the variety of marks he's left with his teeth and lips.

Tony could point out that Bucky is the one who couldn't be bothered to leave the workshop, but Tony isn't in the mood to stop and argue with Bucky's cock still inside him, this time- Not when can feel Bucky's gaze like a physical touch and he's burning hotter- his gut twisting agonizingly with arousal-

"And now," Tony grits out, "I a-am telling you to- oh, god- to fuck me-" He doesn't sound nearly as firm or demanding as he'd hoped- his voice catching with breathless moans- "F-Fuck, Bucky-"

"I am fucking you," Bucky teases, because he's a perfect, amazing asshole- He leans down a little closer over Tony, still withdrawing so slowly, the head of his cock tugging at Tony's rim- But he's within reach now- so Tony does-

Bucky's eyes go wide, and Tony is equally surprised by how fast he manages to move- one arm flying up to shove three fingers into Bucky's mouth, pressing under Bucky's tongue and then curling against the back of his teeth- grabbing him so Tony can yank him down closer.

"I said fuck me faster," Tony snarls, digging his heels into Bucky's back and bucking his hips up- "Now."

Bucky groans, his eyelids fluttering as his teeth close on Tony's fingers- Then he slams back into Tony in one hard, amazing thrust, burying himself so deep and knocking all the air out of Tony's chest in a shaking rush-

"Yes-s," Tony moans as his cock throbs and twitches up against his stomach- as his toes curl and his balls clench- "God- fuck, yes, ju-ust like that- Bucky- Ahh!"

He breaks off in a wavering cry when Bucky's hips roll back and then shove forward again- and again- As Bucky starts fucking him fast and hard and perfect- His tongue searing hot as it drags over the back of Tony's knuckles and when Bucky's eyes snap open the blue of them has been completely swallowed by his blow-out pupils.

Bucky's hips continue to slap against Tony's ass with a steady, brutal rhythm as he curls down around Tony, folding Tony further in half and forcing a breathless shout out of him when the head of Bucky's cock finally drags over his prostate-

"F-Fuck, o-ohh- Harder," Tony groans as his fingers slide deeper into Bucky's mouth- as Bucky's tongue curls around them and Bucky's teeth find the simple silver band with an audible click- "Don'- god, fu-uck, don't swallow my-y new ring," he demands, eyes narrowing like every word didn't come out as a near-whine.

Bucky huffs out a laughs through his nose and shifts so his front teeth dig in just below the metal of the ring, back teeth catching at the sides of Tony's fingers and throat muscles barely fluttering against the tips- Bucky's other hand slowly drags up Tony's chest to the side of his throat, thumb pressing to the throbbing bite mark on Tony's jaw-

"Bucky-y!" Tony cries out as his orgasm crashes over him, his hips bucking as his cock throbs- his heel kicking against Bucky's back and his fingers curling against Bucky's tongue-

With a growl Bucky clenches his jaw and fucks Tony through it as he shakes and writhes- because Bucky is perfect, and knows exactly what he wants.

  molar

Bucky makes a soft sound, shoving his face deeper into the pillow, and Tony's thumb stills on his phone- attention instantly snapping over to the other side of the bed.

Watching Bucky wake up is way more interesting than replying to emails from the marketing department- the way he stretches and hums as he clings to sleep, tensing as he snaps awake all at once and then just as quickly relaxing again. When Bucky rolls over to look at him Tony smiles and waves one hand, not even trying to pretend he wasn't staring.

"Good morning, sunshine," Tony says brightly, then laughs when Bucky continues rolling to sprawl out half on top of him. Tony wiggles down against the headboard until Bucky's head can rest on his stomach and asks, "Did I wake you up?"

Bucky hums and nods, shifting a little closer, and his voice is muffled against Tony's skin as he says, "I can hear you angry textin'."

"I'm swiping," Tony defends, still snickering, and then glances at his phone again even as he buries his fingers in Bucky's hair. "I do have to make a phone call, but I don't want to get up," he admits and when Bucky looks up at him to pout, clearly not happy with the idea of him leaving their bed either, Tony raises an eyebrow and asks, "are you going to make me abandon you, or can you behave yourself?"

Bucky makes a thoughtful sound, his eyes flicking over to the bruises on Tony's ribs, the thin lines and spots that form countless ovals in the perfect shape of his mouth- Then he smiles with lots of teeth, and his voice is still sleep-rough as he says, "Prob'ly."

"Exactly what I was hoping to hear, what more can I ask for," Tony says, rolling his eyes and fighting down more laughter, "I have full and total faith in you, now."

Bucky blinks innocently, still smiling, and Tony stares at him suspiciously even as he raises the phone to his ear. The head of marketing answers on the first ring, with twenty-something other people on the line, and they've barely started re-explaining the problem with SI's upcoming release before Bucky's teeth catch at the skin of Tony's hip, making him jump.

"Hey," Tony hisses in a whisper and Bucky turns to grin up at him again, amusement in his eyes and his lips shining, his chin digging into Tony's stomach.

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes, like this is a big inconvenience and not exactly what he expected. He frees his fingers from Bucky's hair to instead press the pad of his thumb to Bucky's lower lip, dragging slowly along the swell of it. He listens to what sounds like half the marketing department talk through the problem as he moves on to tracing the gentle bow of Bucky's upper lip, dipping in to tap his thumbnail against Bucky's teeth.

Bucky props himself up on one elbow a tiny bit so that he can let his mouth fall open, spreading his sleep-warm metal hand across Tony's side and sighing happily- clearly getting exactly what he wants. And since Tony kind of lives to give him whatever he wants- to put that happy, smug and peaceful look on his face- Tony obliges and pushes his thumb into Bucky's mouth.

The marketing team gets closer to solving their problem with only the very occasional input from him, and Tony drags his thumb along the line of Bucky's bottom teeth, feeling the one crooked tooth that he likes to think makes Bucky's bite marks undeniably his. Bucky's tongue flicks occasionally against the tip of Tony's finger, but mostly lays flat in his mouth as his eyes go half-lidded, letting Tony do whatever he wants.

Once he's rubbed over the front of Bucky's top teeth and the sharp points of his canines- which Tony is very well aquatinted with at this point- he pulls his thumb free and taps it against Bucky's lower lip. He tips the phone away from his ear while two people he didn't catch the names of argue about fonts, and after making sure he has Bucky's attention by tapping on his lip again he mouths, 'Wider.'

Bucky sucks in a deep breath and cranes his mouth open wide, his fingers digging into Tony's side and his tongue poking out in obvious invitation. Tony presses his first two fingers into Bucky's mouth instead so he can reach all way to the back of his mouth.

Half of Tony's brain is focused on the voices in his ear and occasionally chiming in before someone can make a press release bright orange- And the other half of his brain is on the feeling of Bucky's warm mouth- on resting a fingertip on each of Bucky's back molars and slowly dragging his fingers up the line of his teeth, feeling every dip and point against his fingertips like he's felt them against every other part of his body-

Once his fingers meet in the front of Bucky's teeth again he shifts to Bucky's tongue, stroking up either side of the slick muscle- his fingers curled just enough that his nails drag and catch against the texture of his taste buds, and Bucky's eyelids flutter as he lets out a hard, warm rush of breath.

Tony presses one fingertip to the stud in the center of Bucky's tongue, circling it in place slightly, and Bucky grunts softly as he squirms a little closer. The half-hard line of his cock presses against Tony's shin- without any demand, just trying to get closer, and Tony is officially only listening to the phone call with a quarter of his brain.

Thankfully, it sounds like things are wrapping up- and this could have been a single email- and Tony cuts in as everyone starts patting themselves on the back for solving their own problems.

"Great job, team, don't call me again unless Greg tries to make something else orange," Tony says pointedly, ends the call, and tosses his phone off the bed for good measure. When Bucky quirks an eyebrow, tongue rippling against his fingers to pull them deeper, Tony sighs heavily and says, "Yes, that's the Greg that thinks raisins belong on burgers. I don't want to talk about it."

When he finishes with a dramatic shudder Bucky pats him consolingly on the side, then closes his teeth on Tony's fingers and flicks the stud of his tongue ring against them. Tony uses his newly freed hand to poke Bucky in the jaw, and when Bucky opens his mouth again Tony presses in a third finger, sliding all of them in up to the last knuckle. As always, Bucky immediately closes his jaw just enough for his teeth to click against the ring on Tony's finger, the silver every-so-slightly dented from years of the same treatment- and as always Tony can't help smiling dopily.

Once he's determined that the ideal amount of time has gone by, Tony says, "and another thing about raisin-Greg that I can't actually fire him for-"

Bucky shushes him, the sound slurred around Tony's fingers and the laughter rumbling in his chest, then reaches up to shove three of his fingers into Tony's mouth to silence him. Tony doesn't even try to act offended, just lets his laughter bounce Bucky's head in place on his stomach and grabs for Bucky's metal wrist.

He pulls Bucky's fingers deeper into his mouth and loudly clicks his teeth against the simple gold band at the base of Bucky's ring finger, just to watch the way Bucky's eyes go dark.

[eyekonimations]

── intraverbal - a type of verbal behavior where a speaker responds to the verbal behavior of another person, typically in a conversation

and, fyi, the dsm-5 can only take you so far ⭑.ᐟ yn ln is a sophomore in university , a crappy drummer , and a minimum wage boba shop employee . expecting the worst once again for her third semester , yn's pessimistic world view is shattered after serving her cutest customer to date ─ meret manon bannerman , a member of katseye , the darling influencer friend group rocking social media .

and now welcome the kats!!

TRY BEING AN INFLUENCER FOR A DAY ... TRY IT

meret manon sarpong bannerman : meretmanonbn & manzaritapizza

studying music composition & production; dual languge (swiss and german) minor; LOCKED IN but celcius addicted; collects funko pops (derogatory); still sleeps with plushies and has no shame (GOOD FOR HER!!); songwriting since childhood and has reworked some oldies; releases covers on her twitter, insta, and tiktok; a fan of NJZ; funny AF and will make you kekeke regardless of what you think; dating??? who has time for that bs; ask her secretary to fit u in on monday maybe if you're lucky

sophia elizabeth guevara laforteza : sophialaforteza & karaokequeen828

vocal performance major; blunt as hell but in a funny way yk; "miss you forgot to collect the homework" ahh; used to edit all of the kats videos until she cried herself to sleep one night; they have an editor now; beach bum, high UV calling; she kinda fw surfing after trying it like once; CHEFS IT UP in the kats apt and is very proud of her creations; joined the acting for non majors club and got hooked; responsibility 100

daniela andrea avanzini llorente : danielaavanzini & danzilasuprema

journalism major, public relations minor; loud, you can and will hear her from a mile away; PARTY!!girl and we all love her; on the competitive dance team like moka; lowk really good at baking??; fashionista and everyone's campus crush; also works in videography, has taken a liking to documentaries; and she knows literally fucking everyone like how is this even possible; scared of the squid games doll

lara rajagopalan : lararajagopalan & nobreakupbangs

criminology major, polisci minor; a DJ on the side like everyone and their mother these days; helps dani organize her parties; HEAVY into crystals like check her bag there's always something; the unfortunate victim to $15 blind boxes; put all her skill tree points into charming; seriously you cannot dislike this girl; perfume & fragrance snob, the kats love to borrow her shit; has her room aesthetic down to a TEA; likes singing with manon when possible; going places; ...gay

megan meiyok skiendiel : meganskiendiel & skiiyee

early childhood education major; SOO sweetie; former weird kid; third victim of the uni competitive dance team; dyes her hair so mcuh ramona flowers is shaking; scratch that former she still likes anime and video games and all that other dork shit (twin); getting into graphic design and likes to make thumbnails for kats youtube videos; loves math but it doesn't love her back; oh yeah also model on the side; gay...

jeung yoonchae : jeongyoonchae & yoonch

...studying biochemistry (why?) and hoping to go into industry post grad; absolute indisputable fan favorite; definitely makes those '5-hour-no-break-no-music' study with me videos; but also vlogs like there's no tomorrow during her free time; her face reacts before she can; has a separate account solely to post cat cafe reviews; night owl and stays up to make the most atrocious study snacks; family and friend oriented, always has your back

official katseye twitter account. not much else to say......

unmedicated and not regulated masterlist   00.

[authorchariot]

> ENTRY: WITHIN_REACH

RATING: mature

CATEGORY: thunderbolts* (2025)

PAIRING: bob reynolds x reader

EST. READING TIME: 12m 50s

INDEX TAGS: established relationship, hurt/comfort, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced self-harm, not beta read, past drug addiction, past rape/non-con, pov second person

SUMMARY: after months of counselling and hypnotherapy, bob can finally touch without seeing memories. a simple ring to ground him makes it possible. but after so long without skin-to-skin contact, even hope is terrifying

ACCESS MATERIAL ON AO3 OR BELOW

The afternoon light filters in through the high windows of the Watchtower; soft, slanted and golden. Dust motes drift in the air and everything feels too quiet, like the world is waiting for something. Bob sits on the edge of the bed, hands curled into loose fists between his knees. His frame is tense despite the casual softness of the grey sweatpants and faded t-shirt he wears. The stainless steel ring in his palm feels warm and heavy. Science and psionics woven together with expert precision. A failsafe, a promise.

It's worked. It was honestly a miracle that he stumbled across Hank McCoy in his quest for relief. He's tested it; the ring. Hank first, like dipping a toe into water, blue fur slipping through his fingers. Then Alexei, with his warm, crooked grin. Then Yelena; quick to call him an idiot, quicker still to hug him like he deserved it. And it held. No flickers of someone else's pain. No crash of memory, not his nor theirs. Just the feeling of muscle, of warmth, of human contact without the curse of knowing.

But now that it's you — you who he's been with for over a year, the one who knows the small, fractured corners of him and still chooses to stay — now it's real. And it's terrifying.

His fingers twitch and he lifts a hand to look at the ring in his palm again, brows drawn tight in thought. His breath shudders. He's tried to rationalise it all morning. He's safe now. You're safe. The ring works. But anxiety is never rational. It's a creature of memory and he knows too well how it lingers, crawling under the skin and nesting in all the empty parts of a person.

He thinks of your face; how it lit up when Hank gave the final go-ahead. The way your eyes shimmered, wide with disbelief and a hope so tender it hurt to see. He thinks of your voice trembling when you asked him if maybe — maybe — you could finally hold his hand. How he saw you fight your own panic at the very idea of touch, his touch. He hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

It's not like you two haven't wanted each other. In that way. The tension has always been there. There were nights the air between you was so thick with longing he thought he'd choke on it. You'd sleep in separate beds, afraid of brushing skin. He knew the moment your breathing changed. Knew you were awake, just like he was. He didn't touch you then, though he ached to. He still aches.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his jaw tight. He presses his thumb against the ring, his blunt, bitten thumbnail catching on the texture; a feature Hank had insisted on adding as a reminder, to ground him. He can feel his pulse in his fingers, steady but fast, like a knock on a closed door. His mind flits back to Hank's words; Trauma doesn't vanish just because the tools are in place. This will take grace. Patience.

Bob's not sure how much grace he has left. He just wants to be close to you. But he's scared of hurting you. Of what happens if it doesn't work. Of what happens if it does. If he touches you and everything floods in anyway — your memories, your scars — he's not sure he can bear seeing your pain without warning. He's not sure you can bear seeing it again. Or maybe worse; maybe nothing happens. No trauma, no telepathy, no ghostly flashes of pain and you both still freeze. Still panic. Still can't get past the invisible wall between you.

He shuts his eyes, tilts his head back, exhales slowly. The air in his room tastes dry, dusty. The quiet is starting to feel oppressive. And still, underneath all of it, the wanting burns. He wants to know what your palm feels like pressed to his. Wants to know what your breath sounds like when it's warm on his neck, not separated by cloth or space or fear. He wants to fall apart in your arms. Wants to feel you do the same. Wants closeness, not just in words or loyalty or quiet understanding, but in touch. And it's been so long. So very, very long.

Bob drags a hand down his face. His skin feels hot. He's not crying but the weight in his chest has that same flavour. Longing and frustration mingled with fear so potent it's nearly suffocating him. He glances toward the door. It's not about sex, not really. It's about closeness. The kind you've both been starving for but too afraid to reach. The kind that might finally heal something neither of you have dared name. He breathes in. And stands. He's tired of waiting.

You're currently out on a mission but you're supposed to be arriving home tonight. Bob gets to work, striding into the kitchen with determination. When he gets there, it's almost as if he's forgotten why he came in. He rests his hands on the cool marble of the counter, already overwhelmed. He's never been good at cooking — he always has the local pizza place on speed-dial — but he's watched enough movies to know that cooking a meal is one of the most romantic things a person can do for their partner. Well, so long as it isn't a complete disaster, which he prays this won't be.

He turns toward the pantry, staring blankly at the fresh fruit, vegetables and herbs he finds there. Finally, he blindly grabs a selection of vegetables and seasonings and sets them on the countertop. He doesn't know what he's going to make but he is going to do this and, even if it sets everything on fire, he will make dinner for when you get home.

About an hour later, you're catching the elevator up to the penthouse after a long mission. Deep breaths. You sigh as you look down at the bouquet in your hands. It's a nice gesture. Well, you thought it was when you ordered the arrangement at 3am this morning. You flip open the small card that comes with it, detailing the meaning of each type of flower you selected;

Camellias (White): Pure admiration. Chrysanthemums (Red): Enduring love. Yarrows (Pink): Vulnerability. Heliotropes: Devotion. Peach Blossoms: New beginnings.

It feels very sappy and old-fashioned but, hopefully, also romantic. Putting on a brave face, you straighten your back and tuck the bouquet behind your back as the elevator doors slide open.

When you step in, there's a slight mist of smoke in the air along with the scent of burnt onions as well as tomato sauce and basil. Your eyes drift across to the room, where you find Bob, in a very messy kitchen; clothes covered in spatters of ragu, hands shoved into some charred oven gloves. He spins on his heel, eyes widening when he sees you.

"Uhh... Hey." He murmurs and you smile warmly as you wander up to the marble kitchen island.

"Hey." It's kind of adorable how you both had the same idea of doing something for one another and seemingly neither of you have any idea what you're doing. "Oh! These are for you." You pull the bouquet out from behind your back. His eyes dart down to the flowers and then back to you, his cheeks flushing slightly. Gently, he takes them from your hands and you feel the singed fabric of the oven gloves against your fingers.

"For me?" He looks back down at the arrangement with a bashful smile. "They're...really pretty." Your smile widens slightly as you look over his shoulder at the stove, where a pot of pasta bubbles away.

"I didn't know you were planning a surprise too." He gently places the bouquet on a part of the kitchen island that isn't covered in onion peels or empty pasta packets, taking off the oven gloves and running a hand through his messy hair.

"Well, I figured it was about time we did something nice together. I mean, with everything that's been going on..." You nod slowly in agreement. It's clear he's put a lot of effort into doing this for you and your chest feels warm at the thought.

"It means a lot." You murmur and he seems to relax at that, safe in the knowledge that the food may not be good but at least you know it's coming from a good place. "Do you wanna dish out while I go and get changed real quick?"

"Yeah, sure." With another small smile, you turn to head to the bedroom.

When you return to the main part of the penthouse, showered and wearing a clean set of pyjamas. The t-shirt you're wearing for pyjamas leaves your forearms and part of your upper arms completely visible, your scars out in the open. Usually, you'd bandage them up as to not make people uncomfortable but, to Bob, it seems that seeing your scars is a sign of trust, a sign of affection.

Bob is just setting the plates down on the long dining table, the bouquet you got him stood in some water, in one of Bucky's protein shaker cups. You head to the fridge, glancing at what offerings there are for drinks.

"Wine? Beer? Soda?" You call over your shoulder.

"Um... Wine, maybe?" He sounds unsure. He's not a big drinker — you know that much — but it's clear he wants to make this as romantic and cinematic as possible. You nod and grab a bottle from the rack, opening it and pouring a little into two wine glasses. With the wine glasses in hand, you pad over to the dining table and settle down, the sun just about cresting the city skyline.

The pasta is burnt, the plates are messy and the expensive bouquet you got him is placed in a shaker cup but it's so very...him. He doesn't know what he's doing and neither do you. The whole affair just screams I want to do something nice and I'm trying my best and it makes something ache, deep in your chest.

With a look of silent agreement, you both tuck in. It's very salty and there's crispy shards of burnt onions that stick to the roof of your mouth but, overall, it's not bad. At least, your fear of getting food poisoning seems to be less of an issue.

"I didn't know you cooked." You say, your eyes flicking to his, and he laughs quietly.

"I don't. But I figured it was worth a shot and it gave me something to do while you were out." He replies.

Beneath the table, your leg accidentally brushes his through the fabric of your sweatpants and you lean into the touch. His breath catches slightly at the subtle contact, a shiver running down his spine. He tries to keep it together but his hand trembles as he brings his wine glass to his lips. You clear your throat.

"So, I guess, we both had the same idea; we wanna...give it a go tonight?" You ask, probing gently, and he nods.

"Yeah... If you're sure." He corrects himself, meeting your gaze with hopeful eyes, that deep, ocean blue. "I mean, I don't wanna rush anything or make you uncomfortable."

"Are you wearing it?" He stares at you blankly for a moment before remembering.

"Oh! Yeah, wait." He rummages in his pocket and pulls it out; a simple, stainless steel band. He slips it onto his finger, swallowing thickly. "There we go..."

"Wanna give it a try?" You place your hand on the table, palm facing up. Your fingers twitch as he hesitantly moves his hand closer to yours. Hope and anxiety swells in your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You draw in a sharp breath, feeling your heart thumping against your ribcage, until—

His fingers brush over your own, gently tracing the lines on your palm, before covering your hand entirely with his own, larger one. The moment your skin touches, you feel a rush of warmth and relief. His hand is smooth and slightly clammy with nerves. He was right; he really does run hot.

"Is this okay?" He asks and you nod, moving to thread your fingers into his, your breath coming heavier at the mere implication of this one point of skin-to-skin contact.

"Y-Yeah, it's perfect." He caresses your thumb with his own, watching as goosebumps raise along your arms.

"Can I ask something stupid?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we stay like this for a bit?" He asks quietly, his cheeks flushing. You just nod and smile, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

"Mhm."

As you eat, chatting and laughing, you keep your hand clasped with Bob's, almost as if they've been riveted together. It's nice. It feels normal, for lack of a better word.

You drink your wine and fall into familiar conversations about movies and the latest missions, all the while growing increasingly closer together. He subtly shifts his chair to match. Your proximity is driving him up the wall, in the best way possible. He loves seeing you so relaxed and happy.

As you both finish eating, he finds himself absentmindedly playing with your fingers.

"Bob, when was the last time you...y'know...slept with someone?" You ask gently and he pauses for a moment, running a hand through his hair and laughing nervously.

"It's... It's been a while." He admits, tracing small circles on the back of your hand.

"When you say 'a while'...?"

"A few years." He replies, watching his fingertips dance along your skin. "What about you?"

"Same, honestly."

"Yeah? Is it something you miss? Being close to someone, in that way?" He asks and you wriggle slightly in your seat, pursing your lips.

"I don't know. You've seen my past, what happened... I guess, I've never really 'slept with anyone'? I've only ever been...like, used." You murmur, your eyes dropping you your hands, your thumb lightly dragging across Bob's knuckles. He nods solemnly. You're right; he's seen that part of you, seen what 'intimacy' meant to you for so very, very long, seen what happened in that room... Always some kind of coercion; something pleading or threatening. He takes a deep breath before breaking the silence.

"I've not been with anyone since I was hooked on...stuff, y'know?" And you nod slowly.

"So neither of us have really had a good go of it, huh?" You joke humourlessly and he nods, looking at you curiously.

"So have you ever wanted to be with someone? Like, actually wanted it?" His question makes you pause and smile.

"At the risk of sounding really sappy; not until I met you." He feels his heart stop for a moment and he looks at you — really looks at you — taking in your gentle smile and the way your smaller hand fits perfectly in his. The room suddenly feels warmer, charged with intimacy, especially as you lift his hand to your face, your lips brushing along his knuckles, soft and warm on his skin. The touch sends electric shocks down his arm and straight between his thighs. Sucking in a breath to steady himself, he leans over the corner of the table so his forehead can rest against yours. Your eyes fall closed as you feel the warmth of his breath on your face, taking in the scent of his closeness. He wants to kiss you. God, he wants it desperately. But he also knows that this moment is so fragile and he doesn't want to rush. He decides to ask instead of just assuming.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks and your breath catches.

"Yes, please."

taglist: @ingoldthewizard, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[kaden9]

Whatever’s left of you.

Silco x GN!Reader, angst fic

CW: Heavy angst. Depictions of deteriorating mental and physical health due to drug use (Shimmer). Insomnia, malnourishment, and emotional withdrawal. References to addiction, obsession, and burnout. Themes of caretaking, codependency, and unspoken love. Reader expresses concern but is helpless to stop the self-destruction. Open-ended.

Word Count: ~950

Empty.

That’s the exact word to describe what Silco felt as he sat in his office, the only thing lighting the room was the dimly lit lamp on his desk that would occasionally flicker.

You’d noticed the tremor first.

Subtle. Barely a flicker. Just a twitch in his fingers when he lifted his glass—easily mistaken for nothing if you weren’t always watching.

But you were.

And it got worse.

He started forgetting meals. Snapping at people he usually tolerated. The circles beneath his eyes darkened into bruises. His voice, always rasped and raw, began to crack in ways it never had before.

The vials of Shimmer on his desk multiplied.

You’d catch him standing too still, staring at the walls like something was whispering to him. Or sitting too long in his chair, breathing slow and shallow, eyes wide and unfocused like he wasn’t even there.

“Silco,” you said one night, stepping into the low light of his office, “when’s the last time you slept?”

He didn’t look up from the map. Just clicked the cap off another vial with a sharp snap of his thumbnail.

You crossed the room, heart pounding. “You need to rest.”

“I need this territory secured,” he muttered, injecting the Shimmer into his neck like it was routine. Like it didn’t burn him. “I need people to listen. To comply. And I need to stay alive long enough to make sure Zaun survives.”

“And what happens when you don’t survive it?”

That made him stop.

He looked at you. Really looked. His eye—bloodshot, rimmed with purple veins—flicked over your face like he was trying to memorize you. Like he hadn’t seen you in days.

“You think I haven’t already given everything for this city?” he asked, voice hollow. “There’s nothing left in me to protect.”

Your chest ached. You stepped closer, lowering your voice.

“There’s me.”

He blinked slowly. And something in him faltered.

“I don’t need—” He cut himself off. Shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you snapped, voice cracking. “You’re killing yourself. One vial at a time. One night at a time. And I’m standing here, watching the man I love disappear.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Then—barely a whisper:

“Don’t say that.”

You took his hand, trembling. “Say what?”

“That you love me. Not while I look like this.”

You looked at him, exhausted and high and shaking.

“I loved you before this. I still love you through this. And I’ll love you when you come back—if you let yourself.”

His hand tightened in yours. It was cold. And god, you hated how fragile it felt.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe a word—but wanted to.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered.

You stepped into him, pressing your forehead to his. “Then let me help you.”

[whatsnewalycat]

No Strings Attached

Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella - Psychomanteum AU

[ psychomanteum masterlist ][ ao3 ]

WC: 2.7k+

Tags/Warnings: lua 2nd person pov, ghosts, psychomanteum au where they were together in spring, set after chapter 2, bickering, alcohol, drugs, addiction, ethan, anonymous sex mention, a boat load of sweeet sweet yearning folks

Notes: This is a doc I just found in my Psychomanteum folder. I think this is what I was originally writing for Chapter 3, but changed direction. Some of these conversations and prose proooobably got recycled into different chapters, but I can't remember. ANYWAY it's cute so I'm posting it as a Psychomanteum AU Snackie Poo (i'msosorryforsayingthatohmygod)

-----

Since Katie’s party, the two of you have hung out a handful of times, mostly with Parker, going out to a bar and having a few drinks. Between whatever actor things actors do while they’re in the city, he’ll sometimes text you to see what you’re doing, and what you’re usually doing is baking. 

It surprises you a little every time he comes over. Why would an exciting guy like this want to hang out in your apartment while you work? Not that you mind. The company is nice. Most of the time he’ll chat with you while he sketches and happily disposes of any defective product. Sometimes it goes quiet while the two of you concentrate on your respective tasks, but it doesn’t feel awkward. 

This is the modus operandi when Dieter slides his pencil it into the spine of his sketchbook and studies you, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Out of breath from rolling out puff pastry dough, you look at him and pant, “What?”

“Ghosts,” he leans against the counter, pressing his thumbnails to his lips as he waits for your answer. 

You huff, setting your rolling pin down, and remember the picture frame on the spare bedroom floor. The face you imagined you saw in the mirror. Sometimes you hear noises in that room, but can’t bring yourself to investigate. The only time you enter the room is to get supplies, and even then, you speed run and don’t dare look up at the mirrors. 

“No,” you avert your gaze from his and turn around to wash your hands in the sink. 

“Wow, you’re a terrible liar.” 

You turn around and gape at him as you dry your hands, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“So you do believe in ghosts, got it,” he gives you a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes but don’t deny it. He leans forward onto his elbows again, “If I tell you something, will you think I’m crazy?”

“Dee, I texted you yesterday and asked if you think that Avril Lavigne is really herself or a body double. I don’t think I’m qualified to make any judgments on the sanity of other humans,” you toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder, then start folding the dough into layers. 

He tilts his head and frowns, then points at you, “I think you might be onto something there,” then shakes his head, “Ok, well…” 

His Adam’s apple bobs and his eyes flick to the spare bedroom door. You stop folding the pastry dough and stand up straight. A shiver runs down your spine. He gnashes his jaw back and forth, then takes a deep breath, “I see him sometimes.” 

You shake your head and search his eyes. Not out of confusion. You just don’t want him to say it. 

He slides his sketchbook across the counter, flipping it around so you can see what he drew. There, sketched in graphite on the creamy paper, is your husband. He’s standing in the open doorway of the spare room. The illustration is unruly, yet intricate. Your mouth falls open as you press your fingertips to his face, and you feel his sorrow. So much so, you flinch back and shake your head again, “Sorry, um, I–”

Dieter watches your eyes start to well with tears and his shoulders slump, “Fuck, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Is he still there now?” you whisper, meeting his big, sad, brown eyes. 

They flick to the door and back to you, and he gives you a nod. Your stomach drops to the floor and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. 

“I need to leave,” you announce, throwing the kitchen towel off your shoulder onto the counter, then take off your apron and drop it on the towel, “Right now. I have to leave.” 

He stands up off the stool, pushing it out behind him, pointing to the puff pastry, “Should–I, uh, should I wrap that up?” 

“Um, y-yeah, put it in the fridge, thanks,” you walk around the counter and past him to grab your purse, shove your feet into your boots, then walk out the door and wait for him in the hall. 

He emerges while putting on his jacket, then you lock the door and start toward the elevator. The hall is silent except for the rustling of their clothes and footfalls. You slap the down button on the elevator and cross your arms. 

“He was trying to talk to you,” Dieter explains. 

You shake your head, “I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care?” he challenges. 

“Mhmm,” you nod, hitting the button again, harder this time. 

“Terrible liar,” he mutters to himself, then stares forward at the elevator doors. And he probably thinks he’s being funny. But it’s not funny. You don’t react. 

Once the elevator dings, you’re inside, pressing the doors closed button before they even open all the way. He steps onboard. They accordion shut. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he tells you earnestly. In the foggy reflection of the stainless steel doors, you can tell that he’s looking at you. 

“Well, you fucking did,” you snap, and wish you could take the words and shove them back into your mouth. He faces forward and his gaze drops to his feet. 

The doors open and Dieter pushes out in front of you, storming out of the building. By the time you make it outside, he’s gone. A pang of guilt stabs through your chest. The cool, dewy air sticks to your skin and makes you shiver. You regret not grabbing a jacket, but start off towards your favorite hole-in-the-wall bar anyway. 

O’Malley’s is a dingy dugout bar about a block away from your apartment. It’s so dimly lit in contrast to the bright afternoon sun, you have to squint and go off of muscle memory when you walk in the door. On a Tuesday, during daylight hours, when the temperature outside is finally warm enough to melt the gritty snowpiles that have been accumulating for months, the establishment is essentially empty. One sad sap sits at the bar, jacket hanging off the back of his stool, staring down at the lowball glass clutched in his fist. He’s leaning onto the bar with a ringed hand propping his head up. 

You approach and pull out the barstool next to him, droning, “Hey there.” 

Dieter casts a glance to you with a raised brow, then scoffs when he recognizes you. He lifts the glass to his lips and empties it into his mouth, then pushes his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

Nick, the portly bartender you see here frequently during the week, approaches, “The usual?”

“Yeah,” you nod towards Dieter, “I’ll get his, too.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” he sits back and pulls a wallet from his pocket, then throws some bills on the bar top, “I was just leaving.” 

Fucking hell. 

“Dee–” you reach out and touch his arm, and he turns towards you and stares expectantly. You chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze to the floor before sighing, “Please stay. I’m-“  

Nick returns with a whiskey neat and vodka cranberry, sliding them in front of you and Dieter before asking you, “Tab?” 

“Yes please,” you answer with a polite smile, then turn back to Dieter, whose scowl has softened, “C’mon.” 

He sighs and his shoulders release, then he relaxes back into the barstool. Neither of you say anything as you take a sip of the drink, then you turn to him, “I know. Like, um. I know that he’s there sometimes. But I don’t—“ you shake your head, “I don’t want to know.”

He sits up and leans his elbows against the bar, turning to watch you. You chew on your bottom lip and watch the ice cubes clink together as you stir your drink. 

“What was he trying to tell me?” you ask finally. 

“I don’t know,” Dieter frowns, “I couldn’t tell.” 

You saw Ethan cross into the threshold. Through some kind of an otherworldly osmosis, he was absorbed by the membrane that met the two of you at the end of the silent, iridescent wormhole. 

“Why would he come back?” you whisper, mostly to yourself. 

“Why do any spirits come back?” Dieter shrugs and takes a big sip of whiskey, “Unfinished business.” 

All you can think is that it better be a fucking apology. He owes you that much. Ethan was so fucked up that night. Did he even know what he was doing? Or had he been planning it? 

The man that woke you up in the middle of the night on Christmas and made you get into his car with the intention of totaling it… that wasn’t the man you married. You wonder how much coke he had really been doing in the weeks, maybe even months, leading up to the accident. Towards the end, it became commonplace for him to be out all night without explanation. 

He would stumble in at 7am, talking a million miles a minute, a sharp sniff interrupting his monologue every 10 seconds, hands trembling like your grandma’s when she started showing symptoms of Parkinson’s disease. When he finally crashed, he’d go to bed and sleep until the sun went down, where he would isolate himself for a day or two. Then he would go out to run orders to your clients and not come back until 7am. Rinse, wash, repeat. 

One night, when big, fat snowflakes were fluttering to the ground outside in big, he was standing in front of all the order boxes ready to go, making sure he had everything. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around to his chest, laying your cheek against the back of his winter coat, “Can you come home tonight? I miss you.” 

“Baby, I’m with you all the time,” he chuckled, placing a hand over yours, rubbing his thumb against you affectionately. 

“That’s not what I mean,” you told him quietly. His thumb stopped undulating and his body tensed. Your heart was pounding in your chest when you finally admitted out loud, “I’m worried about you, Ethan. I think it’s becoming a problem again.” 

You let go as he stirred beneath your embrace, turning around to face you. His body only became more rigid, shoulders tensed up to his ears, jaw gnashing, as he assured you, “It’s not a problem. I promise. I’ll come home after dropping these off, ok?” 

He pressed his lips your forehead, sealing his promise with a kiss, and you mumbled, “Ok.” 

He didn’t come home until the next morning. You weren’t surprised. 

“You ok?” Dieter nudges you. 

A lie waits, ready to roll off the tip of your tongue. Instead, what comes out is the truth. 

“No. I don’t think so,” you take a sip and look down at your drink, “But, what can ya do?” 

“Mmm, I think I have something that could help,” Dieter mutters in a suggestive tone. Your heart skips, then you look at him and realize he’s pressing a joint up between his lips, “Wanna go for a walk?” 

This brings a smile to your face, but you protest, “I didn’t bring a coat, it’s still chilly outside.” 

The joint bobs as he frowns and grabs his jacket, “Use mine. I’m fucking sweating, anyway.” 

—

The passersby barely pay the two of you any attention as you stroll at a leisurely pace through the park, passing the joint back and forth. His sepia fleece jacket hangs down to your knees and keeps you almost too insulated. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tasting the vapors of melting snow clinging close to the earth. The sunshine seems to melt away the foul mood you were in earlier. In your euphoria, you trip on a crack in the pavement, stumbling a bit. You steady yourself and giggle in embarrassment. 

“So glad you don’t have anyone following you with a camera right now,” you comment. 

Dieter plucks the roach from his lips, holds the intoxicating smoke captive in his lungs, and offers it up to you, “How do you know we don’t?” 

You scrunch your face up and make a full 360, scanning for any potential paparazzi, and shoo the roach away. He exhales and shrugs, then tosses it into a disintegrating snow pile, “I’m just kidding, I think I’m off their radar for the time being.”

“Yeah? Have you been a good boy, Dee?” you giggle. The way his whole body seems to perk up at the question is not lost on you. 

“Not so much that as I’m not the biggest shitheel in the media at the moment,” he smirks, looking you up and down through his sunglasses. 

You hum and nod, although you have no idea what he’s referring to, “Ah, yes. That one guy did that one thing.” 

He laughs, “There’s always another guy doing another thing. It never fails.” 

“Ol’ reliable,” you respond, then tilt your head in curiosity, “How is your divorce going, then?” 

“Boring, next,” he groans. 

“No no no, sir, you told me my dead husband is haunting my home today. Even the scales.” 

“Are you sure you’re not the press?” he raises an eyebrow at you. 

And, of course, it’s a joke. But that side glance gnaws at your gut the same way that Ethan’s narrowed eyes did. Looking at you like you’re an informant. 

‘I didn’t tell anyone about the ink, Lou.’

“What?” your shoulders slump. You come to a standstill, and stammer, “I wouldn’t–no, what?” 

He stops, too, and turns to you, “I’m just kidding, Lua.” 

“Oh,” you breathe a sigh of relief, “Ok. I’m not, um, trying to be snoopy.”

“You are way prettier than a cartoon beagle,” he smiles, then starts walking again. You catch up to him and try not to let the way your stomach flutters show on your face. It does. He smiles wider, then it fades to a frown as he shrugs and scratches his neck, “The divorce is going. Annie is staying at the house until it’s finalized, so I’ve been living out of hotels, which gets old,” a sly smile creeps across his face, “It is a little easier on the dating front, though. Living in hotels, that is.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Sex is just better in a bed. A little more room to work with than the bathroom of a club or the backseat of a car, you know? Plus, then they don’t feel like they have to leave right away.” 

“That’s probably why I prefer those places. Don’t have to stick around afterwards.” 

He grins at you, “Is that right?”

Something sparks at the middle of you when you look over at him and shrug, then he licks his lips and nods, looking ahead. 

“So you’re dating people?”

“I don’t think dating is the right term,” you frown, “More just, um… casual sex, I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Since when?” 

“Does it matter?” you tuck your hair behind your ear and look down. 

“No, not at all,” he nudges you, so you look at him and see the good will on his face. “I just… Well, I’ll really kick myself if I could have been begging you to sleep with me this whole time.”

Your mouth is all of a sudden very dry. You blush and chuckle, then shake your head, “I’m looking for no-strings-attached situations.” 

“I am all about no-strings-attached,” he touches his fingertips to his chest and grins, peaking his bloodshot eyes over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Mmm, no, see, we have strings,” you sigh, then count each of the following points on your hands, “I don’t fuck clients. Or friends. Or celebrities going through very public divorces.” 

Or people I have a big, giant, throbbing crush on.

“My heart,” he clutches the front of his shirt theatrically. 

You giggle at his reaction. The conversation dies momentarily, and the sounds of the city fill the cool air between you. You feel compelled to elaborate, “I’m not ready. With the dead husband and all that. I don’t want a pity fuck, or a goddamn significant other. I just want to get off, then I want it to be over. No strings.” 

He nods, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his pants, “No judgment here, m’dear.”

[yanderecrazysie]

Oikawa NSFW Alphabet

WARNINGS: yandere themes, very NSFW, mentions of non-con

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Oikawa is very cuddly afterward, pulling you close (he’s the big spoon) and playing with your hair a little.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hair- he both likes the way it’s styled to look windswept and the way you card your fingers through it. On you, he likes your breasts. It doesn’t matter if you have huge boobs or are flat chested, he’ll play with your nipples all the same.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Oikawa’s cum tastes fairly good, as he has a healthy athlete’s diet. It’s pearly white and fairly thick, but not as sticky as you might expect.

D: Dirty Secret

Oikawa has fucked his fist to you long before you got together/he kidnapped you.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oikawa has plenty of experience. He’s popular, so girls throw themselves at him, and you really can’t blame him for taking advantage of that popularity a few times.

F: Favorite Position

Oikawa likes missionary most, so he can stare down in your eyes, but if you’ve been bad, it’s doggy style for you.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

Oikawa’s teasing you and making comments on everything you do.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Oikawa’s very well-groomed and the carpets do indeed match the drapes.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Oikawa is very romantic if you’ve been good, locking eyes and hands with yours and giving you slow, deep thrusts until he gets close, then all bets are off.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Oikawa used to be a slight porn addict, always needing to get himself off. But once you came into his life, all he needed was an imagination.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink all the way and possibly spanking, if you’ve been naughty.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Oikawa prefers in a bed or on the couch, but he’s willing to be adventurous. Especially in the boys’ locker room.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Oikawa likes looking at your lips sometimes, and licking your lips or chewing on your thumbnail are just the hottest things he’s seen. Even hotter? You with a low cut top.

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Oikawa doesn’t want you to dominate him. He doesn’t mind letting you ride him, but none of that female dominatrix stuff for him.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving, but he’s skilled in giving too.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

If you’ve been good, he’s slow and sensual until he can feel his orgasm coming, then he’s snapping his hips into your so roughly you’re sure he’ll leave bruises.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

Oikawa doesn’t mind a quickie, but he’ll be rougher than a full out session.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) 

Oikawa is down for pretty much anything.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oikawa can go for a very long time and can go two to three rounds, depending on how long ago he’s masturbated.

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s not very into toys for himself, but he doesn’t mind torturing you with a vibrator attached to your pretty clit.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s the ultimate tease. Both verbally and sexually, stretching out your orgasm as long as he possibly can.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Oikawa’s a moaner, until he gets really into it, then it’s fast, loud grunts of pleasure. When he comes, it’s like a long moan of relief.

W: With or without consent (Non-con or consensual?)

Oikawa prefers consent by far, but he’ll take what he wants if he needs to.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Oikawa is long and girthy. There’s a reason girls want him other than just his popularity. It’s a pretty cock too, with no visible veins, but a soft, large mushroom tip.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Oikawa’s sex drive is insatiable. He’ll go multiple times a day if he’s in the mood.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll hold you tight to him and eventually fall asleep, possibly before you do. He has a great sleep as long as you’re in his arms.

[fallowdoe]

Deepfake

Uniting the realms is a tricky task - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

TW! SA and other heavy stuff

You're not sure when or where exactly you heard about it for the first time.

It might've been at RAD. Your fellow classmates didn't seem to consider this kind of topics to be "embarrassing", at least you didn't think so, considering how loud they'd be when discussing them. Most demons didn't consider taboo things that your human friends would talk about in hushed voices. Standing in the queue in the canteen would almost always result in learning the details of some random student's one-night stand. By simply walking by your classmate in the corridor you could learn all about their exact preferences in bed. The toilets seem to be drowning in conversations about what humans consider vulgar and obscene. Not to mention the kind of words you can hear passing by the changing rooms.

Even though your grandma would probably have a heart attack if she spent even just 5 minutes inside the academy, RAD is still an institution of high culture and all of this is considered to be rather good behaviour by Devildom standards.

Now that you think of it, maybe it was while on one of many shopping trips or errands, the brothers take you on. Devildom is loud and bright, it can be quite overwhelming no matter how long you've been here. It has the atmosphere of a Friday night, and most utilities are open 24/7, especially the clubs. Demons are loud, they want to be heard when they speak. Some are more reserved of course, but they rarely feel the need to make their conversations "private". If private was what they wanted they wouldn't speak about it at all, or at least wouldn't speak about it in the presence of countless strangers.

So just by going out, simply being among them, you learn things that would've never crossed your mind otherwise.

At least that's how you found out about this website.

It resembles blogs from the early 2000s. You know the ones, HTML, flashy and full of gifs, the sparklier the better.

It was fairly easy to find, which unfortunately doesn't take away from your worries right now. You just typed your name followed by a string of words related to 'porn' and the search engine served you exactly with what you were hoping was just a misunderstanding.

Well, it wasn't. The site you heard about earlier that day was now open for browsing on your laptop.

You've scrolled through the first few videos, some looked like they were just copied from pornhub or some other human site, but some had thumbnails that were rather… exotic.

There was a separate category for videos including humans, that was split into multiple sub-categories depending on various characteristics.

For now, you've decided to ignore the videos of random fetish clips of demon-human intercourse and keep scrolling.

You only stopped, when just a few seconds later it was your face staring back at you from the screen. In the thumbnail it was just you, blushing and sweaty, looking through the glass seductively at whoever stumbled upon the video. The title seemed like a string of clickbait words, but it made you nauseous.

''human MC addicted to riding demon cock, human, human exchange student, fucked into obedience, human pet [VIDEO]"

You pressed play.

Sure enough, it was you in the video, being fucked by multiple demons with all their demonic features out. Your body looked kinda different but your face was a perfect copy, the voice was also eerily similar to your own.

More videos started popping up underneath. All of which seemed rather similar to this one, although you've noticed that your body always looked different. It's as if whoever made those videos had no idea what you actually looked like and just improvised.

You scrolled back to the first video. Moans and whimpers reverberated through your head. Unlike most porn videos filled with fake over-pitched fake moaning and poor dirty talk, this one seemed to try and make it seem as "realistic" as possible. There was even some animalistic quality to it, the way this 'you' acted and how they were handled. Petted on the head, passed around by large, clawed hands. It reminded you of how you were called a cute little pet by different demons on multiple occasions.

You started skipping through the video, while this 'you' haven't uttered a single word besides some broken begging, it was all whining and mewling. Sharp breaths and stutters.

It was almost hypnotizing, seeing yourself whimpering and bending at different sexual angles to the camera.

You double-checked if your headphones were actually connected and if the sound didn't leak. The brothers often surprised you with how sensitive their hearing was, you could drop something or hiss after stubbing your toe and Mammon would burst into your room to check if you were still alive.

Having one of them come to check what those obscene sounds coming from your room were, was the last thing you needed right now. Especially since you knew, that they absolutely would come to check if they had really heard moaning.

The demons in the video on the other hand were much more talkative than your digital pornstar copy, cooing at this fake you and laughing between each other. The word ''pet'' was used the most often.

"Aw, is our little pet tired already?"

"Come on pet, you can handle some more."

"Be a good little pet and stay still."

You've debated on watching some more videos but ended up saving the site and closing your laptop after finding one titled ''demon Lords Using Their Human Pet".

Your heart was beating loudly, luckily it calmed down after a few deep breaths. Another thing about the brothers was that they could also sense stronger emotions, again, they would come check on you.

Your laptop ended up stuffed between folded sweaters in your wardrobe. Just in case anyone was to open it and see… what they were not supposed to.

You stepped into the bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror for a while, trying to make sure that every little wrinkle and freckle was in the right place. This right here is the real you, you reminded yourself, this here is real. Those videos are not.

You turned the sink on and splashed some cold water onto your flushed face. The intense heat in your cheeks started to finally go away. Maybe you should thank Lucifer for giving you a personal bathroom again. Your dishevelled form in the mirror certainly was glad, they didn't have to go to the shared bathroom and risk running into someone.

The clock on your D.D.D. mercilessly reminded you it was almost dinnertime.

A hoodie and some sweatpants should do a decent job of hiding the goosebumps your skin was covered with. You prepped yourself mentally and set off to see the same faces that were staring at you from a fake thumbnail just minutes ago.

The rest of the night went by rather uneventfully. The dinner was kind of unsettling, hiding your restlessness from the brothers was close to impossible. A random excuse about a nearby quiz was enough to cease any further questions. It didn't mean everyone believed you, though. Multiple sets of eyes watched you with determination, to figure out what was it, that was really bothering you. It reminded you of the way, you were stared at in those videos and only added to your uneasiness.

You went to bed feeling surprisingly numb, the discovery of that cursed site was apparently so shocking that it tired you out so much, that it made you fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Not sure what to do with the revelations of last evening, you've decided to keep quiet about it in front of the brothers and instead start an investigation. If you wanted to keep the number of people who saw any of those videos to a minimum, you had to be smart about this. Your first candidate for interrogation could be no other than a fellow human.

Out of curiosity, you decided to add Solomon's name to the search you typed out earlier, but nothing came up. This means either Solomon's just not as attractive to demons physically, or he's not attractive because realistically you doubt they would be able to do any of that to him. Without the protection of so many powerful individuals, you had no way of protecting yourself. The thought added to your already alarmingly growing distress.

You've ambushed the sorcerer at RAD, in the library. Your strategy was to inquire about some 'rumours', instead of revealing what you had actually found. God forbid he asks you to elaborate. This way you could check if said 'rumours' were popular enough to reach him. Also, you didn't want to show him the videos for obvious reasons. Even if it wasn't your body, it still felt way too intimate.

To your surprise, Solomon didn't seem as concerned about it as you imagined (or maybe hoped?) he'd be.

"Oh yeah, there's a lot of that. The human-demon thing in general." The sorcerer didn't even look up from his book, as he explained. "It's always been rather popular if I recall correctly".

At your lack of reaction, he finally looked up and was met with your dumbfounded face, which made him smirk.

"Are you really that much surprised?" he asked.

"Yeah." was all you could muster right now. You felt your eyelid twitch. His reaction was, very painfully, much in character for him. The ever-unbothered wizard. The sky could fall and rivers could run blood, he'd barely acknowledge it if at all.

"They probably use shape-shifting to make them. It must be really weird to you, although… maybe it's some kind of computer editing…" He trailed off obviously more invested in how the videos are made, rather than why.

Of course, he didn't care. Why would he? It's not like it's his face, his fellow classmates fantasize about fucking. And if they did, he'd probably put an end to it faster than these deviants could finish jacking off.

The thought made you feel lonely, Solomon's humanity usually drew you to him, the same way you'd rather sit next to a woman than to a man on a crowded bus. The familiarity of sharing a similar struggle of being in a foreign realm usually brought you some comfort, and Solomon used to acknowledge that in the past, acting sympathetic towards you when speaking about Devildom and its inhabitants. But his reaction to your questions left you feeling solitary again, you didn't share this struggle, so he didn't care. Here's to hoping that you didn't make him curious enough to look anything up by himself.

Well, that wasn't very helpful, seemed like you were left on your own again. You thought about bringing it up with Lucifer but you'd probably die of embarrassment while trying to explain what you've found and why were you on this kind of site in the first place.

The evening came and you've found yourself opening the site once again. This time you've scrolled a little further and found a comment section. Great. Exactly what you were hoping not to find.

Curiosity quickly won with your initial hesitation and you started browsing through them, although you've instantly regretted your decision.

"I wish I could bend that little bitch over" "Royal pet needs to learn her role" "I would fuck you like a whore every day"

Real classy.

You debate yourself on whether to scroll further but just a few comments below something more sinister is hiding.

"I jack off every time I see her, one day I'll lock her in an empty classroom or sth and finally have my way with her"

And the replies were even worse.

"I can't wait to finally get her alone, I'd share tho. Put her ass free for taking in a corridor or a bathroom or sth, hard-working students deserve such a cute glory hole" "Can someone tag the guy who had her underwear pics again?" "Can't believe they let her study here anyway, a really poor excuse for having a human fucktoy"

Ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Now, you were left wondering whether you really were in danger. Would any of them actually act on these desires, or were they only brave when hiding behind a stupid nickname and an obscene picture of an anime girl?

That one thumbnail showed up on your screen again. Your body covered with hands grabbing at and holding you in different spots. The cursed title, which promised to show you "what's going on at House of Lamentation".

Click or don't click, the video had a decent amount of views. Judging by those comments earlier, your fellow classmates were no strangers to these sites. Had they seen it? Do they think about it whenever they see you talking with the brothers? Had any of them jacked off to it?

Would the brothers also look off? Probably, although it might be hard to tell, it's not like you know exactly what they look like underneath their clothes. Would they have their wings and horns out? Probably, judging by the other videos, perhaps to highlight, that they were powerful predators, and you were just a defenceless, frail thing.

Click. Sure enough, horns, wings and dicks out. Their faces were off, lacking in emotion, but it didn't seem to matter, as the focus of the video was on you. This one was good, they nailed almost all of your proportions. Someone must have taken a really good look at you.

In the video, you were dressed in a lacy set and sat on a big, elegant couch. The place was definitely not the House of Lamentation, but it did little to ease up your mind.

The next 60 minutes were filled with praises said with almost perfect copies of their voices. For 60 minutes you sat glued to your screen, headphones on, and watched as the "brothers" had their way with "you".

They'd hold you down and tear the lingerie off, praise you, stroke you and pass you around. You were sat in Lucifer's lap as he spread your folds for everyone to see and comment on how wet you were. Mammon had you ride his face, while Leviathan held your hair in a fist and made you choke on his dick. Satan would fuck you, ass up face down on the floor. Asmodeus had you riding him in some complicated position, and the twins both had you at once, standing.

Your mind was struggling to comprehend what were you seeing. You were distressed, cheeks flushed, eyes teary. Aroused too, who wouldn't be?

Focused on your laptop, hearing limited by your headphones, you didn't notice someone walk in.

You only realised someone was standing in front of you when a hand suddenly grabbed the headphones and pulled them right off your head.

"Damn human, I was knockin' like crazy here. Ya deaf now, or some?" Mammon asked looking kind of annoyed, as if you didn't let him in on purpose.

Luckily your laptop was placed in a way that didn't let him see the screen, which you quickly shut off. Your hastiness, nervousness, looks, well, all of it, definitely did make it look like you were caught watching something you shouldn't have, but Mammon either didn't notice or didn't care. Or maybe he did notice and care but was too embarrassed to tease you about it.

"I'm busy Mammon." You got up and strategically placed your laptop in an obscured spot that didn't draw attention and picked up a stack of papers from your desk to occupy your mind on something else.

"Yeah sure, ain't nothing like too busy to hang out with me. You've been holed up in here for like, the whole week human. You making me look like I'm a bad pet owner or some shit." he joked.

The pet thing made you wince, even though the joke made you laugh in the past.

"Please Mammon, I'm really not in the mood today. I promise I'll hang out with you later," you muttered, not even facing him.

He stood there with his hands on his hips. You know your ''I'm okay" act wasn't too convincing, but you were hoping he wouldn't care enough to dig further.

"No way, you humans need the fresh air stuff and all of that. We're going out, get dressed Imma wait here." he draped himself on your bed and pulled out his D.D.D.

Clearly unable to convince him you sighed loudly and stomped over to the bathroom. You were in no shape to go out tonight, knowing Mammon he probably wanted to have you go with him to a club or a casino, but the thought of crowds terrified you. Your mind running like crazy, all those demons there, must have seen it.

Before you know it tears start trailing down your knees and you're holding your breath in, kneeling on the floor.

Mammon is mindlessly scrolling the Devilgram and thinking about you. Something is going on with you, that much is obvious, but what is it? By now, every one of them has pointed it out. As your first man, it was obviously his duty to find out what was bothering you and put an end to it, but how to do it if you don't want to tell him?

You were doing something on your laptop when he walked in, maybe it really is schoolwork that got you so distressed? He got up and walked over to your desk.

Just as he was about to reach out for the device he heard some odd noises coming from the bathroom. He felt you, through the pact. How overwhelmed you were.

So he walked over to the door, opened it and sat down on the floor with you. The hug he gave you was stiff. Nervous, but genuine. It was so Mammon-like that it calmed you down almost immediately.

"Damn, just say ya don't wanna go next time." he joked and it made you laugh out loud.

He smirked, trying to play it confident, but having you so close flustered him. He tried to tone down his tsundere persona tho.

"So ya wanna tell me what's bothering you or do I have to find out myself?"

No way in hell you were telling him, or worse, showing him. Any of them.

You shook your head and put it on his shoulder, breathing finally slowing down.

"Come on, ya can't go around moping like that! Lucifer's gonna get his panties in a twist by saying sth like "You have to make a good impression as an exchange student." and then blame me!" Mammon's vivid gesticulation made your body sway every time he moved, and that made you laugh again. "Ha! I knew ya just needed some of the Great Mammon!" he beamed.

"I'm okay Mammon," you sighed "Just tired. Humans just get like this sometimes." you tried to redirect him once more.

"Pfft, you're the weirdest human I know MC. Not that you're weird or something. Not that I like you!" he returned to his tsundere ways.

While Mammon was busy denying and declaring his fondness for you, you tried to figure out the plan for the upcoming days. If you didn't get your shit together they'd eventually find out.

Was there a way to get rid of those videos altogether? Their amount might be a problem. If Diavolo was to find out about them would he be able to take them down? What if he knew? Never mind, you'd never tell anyway. The idea of having to explain what exactly they portray was too mortifying to even consider doing it.

The RAD curriculum included lessons on basic knowledge about different species and the rules by which they operate. You understood, to some degree, that demons didn't really get to make decisions the same way humans do. Their free will was limited by their desires, which weaker individuals were completely subject to.

Even with your limited understanding of how this world works, you could clearly see what a threat this situation was becoming to you. There were demons at RAD who watched the videos and were not afraid to voice their desires online. It was only a matter of time before one of them got to act on it.

You had to do something, but make sure you didn't turn it into an even bigger mess. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that you could do by yourself. Still, instead of straight up telling someone, you could try asking for advice without revealing the whole problem first.

Solomon already knew, but he didn't seem too bothered. You could ask Satan, but his curiosity would eventually lead to him finding out about the whole situation and no doubt dragging everyone else into it too. Barbatos was reliable, but not discreet like you needed. Lucifer and Simeon were also out of the question for similar reasons.

Who else? Beel and Belphie wouldn't help very much. Mammo would end up telling everyone, like Satan. Levi also didn't seem like a very good choice.

That left Asmo, who could either be really helpful or very, very unhelpful. You hesitated for a moment, pondering whether Asmodeus was the right choice. His attitude towards such matters might not be what you need, but if anyone could provide insight into how to handle the situation—or at least offer advice on damage control—it would be him. However, there was still the risk he might find this whole situation more amusing than alarming.

You sighed and leaned into Mammon’s shoulder a little more. For now, you weren’t ready to confront Asmo or anyone else about it. The overwhelming violation you felt from those videos still crawled under your skin. You couldn’t shake the image of your classmates walking past you, seeing you not as a person but as an entertainment, piece of meat to be fucked, then eaten.

And the thought that some of them wanted to act on those fantasies—physically cornering you in classrooms or hallways—was enough to make your stomach turn. What scared you the most was how powerless you felt in the face of it all. You were outnumbered and apparently actively hunted.

Mammon shifted beside you, likely sensing your nervousness "Oi, I dunno what's goin' on, but if someone's messin' with ya, just tell me, alright? I'm your first, remember? I'll kick their asses if they even think about it," he declared with a fierce determination that only made your heart sink deeper.

If only it were that simple. You weren’t sure how Mammon—or any of the brothers—would react if they found out what was actually going on. Would they be angry? At them? At you? Or would they find it too embarrassing to talk about, too awkward to address? Even worse, what if some of them didn’t take it seriously at all? You remembered Asmo laughing at the idea of certain demons’ fetishes and preferences—would he laugh at your distress?

A soft knock at the door startled you both. Mammon, ever the defensive one, stood up in an instant. "Who’s there?"

"It’s just me," came the soft voice of Beel. He opened the door slightly, sticking his head in. "I thought I smelled something… are you two okay?"

You forced a small smile. "Yeah, Beel. Everything's fine. Mammon was just being… Mammon."

Beel eyed you with concern, clearly not buying your half-hearted attempt at reassurance. "You should eat something, MC. You’ve barely touched your food lately."

You nodded, realizing how easy it had been to forget about meals amidst everything that was happening. "I will. I promise."

Beel lingered for a moment before he finally left, leaving you alone with Mammon again.

"Ya heard him," Mammon grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "Beel’s right—ya gotta eat. C’mon, let’s head down to the kitchen."

But the last thing you wanted was to face the rest of them again. Not after what you’d seen and the vile comments that still echoed in your mind.

"I’ll catch up in a minute," you said, standing up and brushing yourself off. "I just… need a minute."

Mammon didn’t look entirely convinced, but he gave a curt nod, seemingly aware that pushing too hard would only make things worse. "Fine, fine. But don’t take too long, alright?"

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, you exhaled sharply. Alone again, you let yourself collapse onto the bed. Your mind raced as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

You needed a plan. Something. Anything.

Asmo was still a risk, but perhaps he was your best option. He knew the ins and outs of demon desires better than anyone, and if you framed it as a hypothetical situation, maybe he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Maybe.

Without thinking, you grabbed your D.D.D. and scrolled through your contacts, your thumb hovering over his name for what felt like an eternity. You bit your lip, hesitating one last time before finally sending a quick message.

You: Hey, are you free??

It didn’t take long for a reply to pop up, Asmo’s characteristic excitement already shining through his words.

Asmo: Of course, darling! Come to my room? Or should I come to yours?

You sighed. Maybe this was a good idea. Maybe Asmo would know how to handle this—or at least give you some advice on what to do next. Before your anxiety could change your mind, you quickly typed back.

You: I’ll come to your room.

Sure enough, he was waiting for you, draped over his lavish bed, manicured hands typing quickly at his D.D.D. The entire room shimmered with elegance—silk sheets, golden accents, everything carefully curated to reflect Asmo's refined tastes. He barely looked up as you entered, his eyes glued to whatever was captivating his attention on the screen.

"Hey," you greeted, cursing yourself internally for how stiff you sounded. If you wanted to keep your dignity intact, this had to be a top-tier performance. You needed to act casual, as if this was just another lighthearted conversation, even though your insides were twisted in knots.

"Oh?" His expression shifted slightly—still playful, but more focused now. "Do tell. It must be serious if it’s making you this tense."

Asmo finally looked up, offering you a slow, amused smile. “Darling! To what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit? And at this hour, no less,” he teased, clearly intrigued but not in the least bit worried.

You shifted, feigning nonchalance. “Gossip,” you said, a little too quickly. But maybe that worked. Maybe it would make you sound like you were just excited to share some juicy tidbit.

“Gossip?” He tilted his head, his interest visibly piqued. He set his D.D.D. aside, leaning back on his elbows with a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, you’ve come to the right demon. Spill it. I’m all ears.”

“I heard some girls talking about one of the succubi I share classes with, the one with pink hair, that someone sent them some fake-ass videos of her online. It sounds made up, do you know anything about it?” You tried to make it sound believable, but there was a chance he’d see right through you.

Asmo’s eyebrows shot up, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. He leaned forward just a little, clearly intrigued by the mention of drama. “Oh, her?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Fake videos, you say? Mmm, that does sound like the kind of low-effort gossip that circulates from time to time. But I haven’t heard anything… yet.”

He paused, studying your face with a knowing look, as if he was assessing whether you were holding something back. Then, with a grin, he reclined back against the pillows, folding his arms behind his head. “But you know how these things go. If it’s fake, it’ll blow over. If it’s real… well, things could get juicy.” He laughed lightly, still clearly enjoying himself.

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you—he wasn’t pressing too hard, at least not yet. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just another rumour,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I figured if anyone would know, it’d be you.”

“Well, darling, you’re not wrong.” He gave you a conspiratorial wink. “But even I can’t catch every scandal the moment it breaks.” He shifted, now leaning on one arm, his expression still playful but a little sharper, as if he was waiting for you to drop something juicier. “So, is that really all you came to tell me? Or is there something more interesting you’re holding back?”

Your heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t fully bought the story, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to push you too hard—at least not yet. You might be able to poke around the topic some more.

“I saw some of it on their D.D.Ds,” you continued, trying to keep your voice casual, “didn’t look fake at all, though.”

Asmo’s smile widened, his amusement unmistakable. “That’s the point, lovely,” he purred, clearly enjoying this far more than he was letting on. “If you’re going to stir up a scandal, it has to be convincing.” He crossed his legs elegantly on the bed, his gaze steady on you, as though savouring the tension in the air. “So, tell me—how good was the fake? Scandal-worthy, or just amateur work?”

You hesitated again, feeling that tight knot forming in your stomach, but backing out wasn’t an option anymore. “It looked pretty real to me,” you said with a casual shrug, forcing yourself to look nonchalant. Slowly, you walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, trying to seem more at ease even though your nerves were screaming otherwise.

Asmo’s gaze followed your every move, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as you sat beside him. “Mmm, impressive,” he mused softly, shifting his weight closer to you. His hand trailed lazily across the silk sheets until it landed near your thigh, his fingers just grazing the edge of your leg. “You know, darling, I can always tell when someone’s holding something back from me.” He tilted his head, his voice still light and teasing, but there was a flicker of intensity behind his words. “You’re not telling me everything, are you?”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his hand moving to rest more firmly on your leg now. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, and you knew he was pressing for more. “How do they even make those videos look so real?” you asked, your voice sounding a little too innocent.

Asmo chuckled softly, his fingers beginning to trace idle patterns on your leg, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh, darling, it’s not that hard if you know the right tricks. A little magic, a little creativity… but why are you so interested?” His voice dropped lower, smooth and inviting, but there was an edge of curiosity sharpening in his tone now. “You’re asking a lot of questions. What’s got you so curious?”

You felt his hand slide a bit further, his touch becoming more deliberate, and it took everything in you not to flinch. The air felt thick with tension, and you could feel his gaze boring into you, waiting for you to crack.

Before you could answer, the door flew open with a loud crash, startling both of you. “Oi! What’s goin’ on in here?!”

You felt like eyes followed you everywhere you went these days, a heavy, invisible weight pressing on you no matter where you were. It started subtly at first—a glance here, a passing look there—but now it felt constant, like you were under a spotlight you hadn’t asked for. Yesterday at the café Lament the waiter couldn't stop looking your way, lingering with his gaze even as he took Satan’s order. You tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at you, that strange intensity in his eyes.

Then there was Majolish. The cashier had given you a look so unnerving it left a cold pit in your stomach like he was part of some inside joke that you were on the wrong side of. His eyes had scanned you with that same, unsettling awareness, as if you were missing something crucial.

It didn’t stop there. Later, at the grocery store with Beel, you found yourself using his broad frame like a shield, hiding behind him as you paid for your snacks. You didn’t even want to look the cashier in the eye, afraid you'd catch another one of those unsettling stares. You weren’t sure if it was real anymore or just your imagination, but every glance felt heavy, charged with something more than simple curiosity.

Every demon you passed in the street seemed to watch you, their gazes lingering just a little too long. You’d always drawn attention in the Devildom—being human in a world of demons was enough to make anyone curious—but this was different. This wasn’t casual glances or fleeting interest; it felt like scrutiny.  The paranoia began to creep in. Had they always been staring like this? Or had it only started recently, and you were just now noticing? Every side glance felt like a threat, every whisper behind your back like it was meant for you.

Each day it grew worse, and you couldn’t help but wonder: what did they see when they looked at you?

You didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

Exactly a week after discovering those damned videos, you found out just how real the abstract threats in the comments could be.

The hot, slimy trail of a tongue dragging along the curve of your neck made you shudder in disgust. Your skin crawled, muscles tensing involuntarily as the bile rose in your throat. The demon had you pinned beneath him, your wrists bound in one of his clawed hands while his other hand fumbled impatiently with your uniform blazer. His grip was vice-like—no matter how much you thrashed, how desperately you squirmed beneath him, it was as if he didn’t even notice. You were nothing more than a rag doll under his weight, your feeble attempts at escape met with complete indifference.

The dark corridor echoed with your own ragged breaths, the distant bustle of more crowded areas seemingly worlds away. Panic clung to you like a second skin, your heart hammering violently in your chest, but your mind was racing too fast to keep up with any plan of escape. You didn’t even notice that you were walking into the more secluded section of the library, only understood when someone grabbed you and dragged you out into the back corridor connecting it with an unused part of the building.

“Stop…please!” You gasped out, voice shaking, but your attacker didn’t listen. He was too busy reliving some sick fantasy of his own.

“Oh, sweetheart, you should’ve known better.” His voice was rough, taunting as if he were savouring your fear. His breath was hot against your ear, his words dripping with malice. “You put yourself out there. On that site. Now you’ve got my attention.”

He tugged at your blazer with more force, buttons popping loose, the fabric pulling tight against your skin as he worked to expose more of you. Your chest heaved, your mind screaming at you to fight harder, to do something, anything, but it was like your body refused to obey. All you could do was kick out weakly, your legs pinned under his weight as he continued, relentlessly.

You felt his sharp nails graze your skin, making you flinch, the sensation like needles against your bare flesh. In a desperate attempt, you tried to call on your pacts but couldn’t focus enough to do so.

The cold air hit your exposed chest and you whined loudly. This seemed to excite your assaulter even more.

“Yes! More sounds like this!” he laughed crazed and started working on your pants.

The zipper was barely holding on when the weight on top of you was suddenly yanked away with a force so powerful it made your head spin. You gasped, struggling to process what had just happened, your heart still thundering in your chest as you scrambled back, pushing yourself up against the cold wall. Through your blurred vision, you saw a familiar figure standing tall. You had a hard time understanding what exactly was happening. All you could focus on were the pained whimpers of your assaulter and how blood dripped on the floor from where Lucifer’s claws were piercing his skin.

Mammon appeared in front of you. He silently took his own blazer off and helped you cover yourself with it. You clutched the fabric tightly, desperate for any shred of normalcy. His lips moving, but the only sound that reached your ears was a dull, persistent ringing. You could see he was saying something—something important, no doubt—but your mind was too overloaded to comprehend. Everything felt distant, and surreal, like you were trapped in a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was warm, and gentle, so at odds with the raw violence still playing out behind him. He tried to lift you, but it was then that you realized just how badly you were shaking. Your legs felt like they weren’t even there, your body completely stiff from the overwhelming rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

“Mammon?” You choked out, your voice barely a whisper you couldn’t hear yourself, the adrenaline making your muscles completely stiff. Your throat burned, and you weren’t sure if it was from the panic or the strain of trying to speak.

There was a brief flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as if he was trying to assess just how bad things were. Then, without another word, he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest. The world around you swayed, but Mammon’s grip was firm, protective.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” he muttered under his breath, though whether he was speaking to you or himself, you couldn’t tell.

As Mammon turned, his gaze locked with Lucifer’s. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding in that brief exchange. Lucifer’s hand was still gripping the now limp demon, his expression still cold and merciless. “Go back to the House of Lamentation,” he simply stated. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Did you see any of it?”

“I didn’t watch any,” Solomon replied evenly. “I assume that’s what you mean.” His face betrayed no emotion, no hint of pity or judgment—just the steady, calm demeanour you’d come to expect from him. “But I saw how many there were.”

His words hung in the air, a weight you couldn’t quite shake. You didn’t need the details. The sheer volume alone was enough to twist the knife already lodged deep inside you. Solomon’s tone wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t gentle either. And that was exactly what you needed right now.

The past few days had been a blur of forced smiles and constant hovering. The brothers, despite their good intentions, had treated you like you were made of glass—afraid that at any moment, you’d shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces. Lucifer had barely let you out of his sight, his protective instincts at an all-time high. Mammon hovered too, quieter than usual, though his fierce glances at anyone who so much as looked at you made his feelings clear. Asmo helped you get rid of any physical evidence of what you went through. Everyone was checking in on you every few hours, trying to distract you from your own thoughts.

It was suffocating.

Solomon, on the other hand, didn’t fuss. He didn’t crowd you with reassurances or treat you like you were some delicate porcelain doll. He was here, offering silent support, but allowing you space to breathe. You were grateful for that.

“Thanks for not… hovering,” you mumbled, feeling a small knot of tension ease as you sat down across from him.

He smiled faintly, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “I figured you’ve had enough of that by now.” He, of course, wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t follow it up with “It was really stupid of you not to tell anyone”.

“I kind of assumed everyone knew,” you admitted. “Besides, how would you even picture that? Hey, there’s fake porn of me all over the web, what do I do?” “That’d be a good start you know.”

You groaned, leaning back in your seat. “Easy for you to say.”

“Perhaps. But keeping it to yourself only made things worse.”

Before you could retort, a soft knock on your door broke the tension. Lucifer stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room with his usual commanding aura. His sharp gaze flicked to Solomon, sitting a little too comfortably on the edge of your bed, and his eyebrows scrunched in subtle disapproval. He didn’t say anything about the sorcerer’s proximity, but the air in the room shifted slightly.

Lucifer cleared his throat, stepping further into the room with the weight of something official behind him. “I spoke with Diavolo,” he began, his tone formal, measured, “and on his behalf, along with the entire Student Council, I would like to extend our deepest apologies for the—” he paused, clearly choosing his words with care, “—misfortune of both the assault and the online incident.”

You groaned, louder this time, and fell face-first into your pillow, muffling a frustrated sigh. “Please, please tell me you’ve found a way to get rid of those.” You lifted your head just enough to eye Lucifer, your voice laced with desperation. “Or at least tell me that none of you showed any to Diavolo as an ‘example.’” There was a long pause, and Lucifer’s silence was deafening. You groaned again, louder this time, burying your face back into the pillow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He was informed of the situation,” Lucifer continued, his voice flat, but there was the slightest tension at the edges. “But no explicit material was shown to him directly. Rest assured, we are working tirelessly to remove any trace of those videos.”

Solomon, ever the opportunist, smirked. “It must’ve been quite the conversation. Diavolo doesn’t strike me as someone who’s used to handling such… delicate topics.”

Lucifer shot him a sharp look, clearly not in the mood for jokes, before returning his attention to you. "This is being taken very seriously. Diavolo is personally overseeing the investigation as he considers this to be a, hm, personal failure I suppose. But it will take time and might not be as effective as we’d like."

You sat up, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. The whole situation felt like a nightmare, a weight that wouldn’t lift no matter how hard you tried to shake it. "I know it’s hard to get rid of something on the internet, especially with some of those freaks probably working overtime to make more," you muttered, a bitter edge creeping into your voice.

Solomon snorted softly at your remark, his expression turning wry. "You're not wrong. The internet’s a hydra—cut off one head, and two more appear."

You sighed, sinking deeper into your frustration. "But I was hoping Diavolo could just, I don’t know, magic it all away? Wave his hand, say some ancient words, and poof—this whole nightmare's over. Everyone forgets, and I go back to not being… whatever this is."

Lucifer's expression softened, though there was a weight in his eyes. "I understand why you'd hope for that, but even Diavolo’s magic has limits. I promise that until it all dies down you have nothing to fear, we’ll be taking more precautions for your safety from now on.”

You sat up again, feeling a mix of exhaustion and determination settle into your bones. "I appreciate all of the concern, really. But until this all goes away, I’m still stuck feeling like… well, like this." You gestured to yourself, feeling the weight of all the unwanted attention you’ve received so far. The video featuring you with the brothers came to your mind and you flinched, the thought of anyone you knew watching it felt especially mortifying.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you, and your eyelids grew heavy, the weight of everything finally catching up with you. You tried to shake it off, but your body felt like it was made of lead. Before you could voice your fatigue, Solomon already excused himself from your room bidding you good night.

The silence that followed felt both comforting and isolating. You allowed yourself to lean back against the pillows, the plush fabric cradling you as you closed your eyes. A soft sound in the darkness caught your attention—Lucifer’s footsteps approached, and you opened your eyes just enough to see him lingering in the doorway.

“Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded slowly, even though you weren’t entirely sure it was true. "Just tired."

"Rest, then," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You’ve faced enough for one day. I’ll be nearby if you need anything." Feeling a small spark of reassurance, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the pillows to dream your uneasy dreams.