#; he's out and I can't take him back to his cage

[skibasyndrome]

Wilmon + "please I need you inside me"

cw: this is... definitely nsfw, a lil bit angsty... messy exes reunited at a party?

ALSO: the word count on this bad boy got... completely out of hand

"Please, I need you inside me." Simon's whispered confession hits Wille like a freight train. It's not what he expected him to say, not after everything, not after all this time, not after what he said last time. Not as his first full sentence towards Wille, after an awkward "hey" in front of Felice and Sara who are the only reason they even came to Maddie's party in the first place. Not after asking if Wille "has a minute" one and a half hours later.

It's all wrong and Wille is confused, so fucking confused and a little bit too tipsy to really connect the dots (have there been hints all evening? have there been signs he misread?). Instead of asking any of the millions of questions floating around his mind (Why do you want me now? Did you change your mind? What happened to the new guy? Why here?) he just stutters, unsure what to say, unsure what to do about the goosebumps mottling the skin of his neck, even moments after Simon has already pulled away again. "Simon, I don't..." (Why didn't you text? Why didn't you call?) Simon's expression twists painfully and Wille knows, oh god he knows what this sounds like and he needs to fix this. "I...," and the words still don't make their way out, so he reaches out, fingers grazing the inside of Simon's wrist, so soft and so smooth and so reminiscent of the times this was what they did. (Why did you push me away when this is what you want?) "We can't," Wille tries instead, desperate, breathless, feels his chest contract angrily, feels his resolve crumble with every passing second that he's skin to skin with Simon. Fingertips on the wrist are enough to set his skin on fire. Enough to bring him back to two years ago. (Why didn't you want me to fight harder?) "Is it because you don't want to?" Simon asks, voice gentle and careful and so painfully small - Wille hates when Simon feels like he needs to make his voice smaller - that the pang goes right to Wille's heart. (Why would you ever think I don't want you?) He shakes his head fervently, like he can shake off the hurt and the confusion and the incessantly rising heat of want that crawls up the inside of his throat. "No. God, no," he tries, feels and hears his voice break on the first no. (Did I not prove to you that you're all I ever want?) Simon's eyes meet his again, finally. Glistening even in the dim light of this hallway, and Wille wishes he could read him better, wishes there weren't two years of distance lodged in between them. Simon moves his arm and just as Wille is about to gasp at the prospect of losing him again he feels Simon's grip on his upper arm instead, firm and warm even through the thin fabric of his shirt. The breath gets stuck somewhere deep inside of Wille's rib cage. He doesn't dare make a single move while Simon tugs on his arm, places it around himself, takes another step towards Simon. (Why did I ever let you go?) The look in Simon's eyes is dangerous, is gnawing away at every bit of distance, at every wall that Wille has desperately tried to build up over these past years. Simon squeezes Wille's bicep, signaling him he can touch him back and- Fuck. And Wille does. Wille's hand still perfectly fits on top of Simon's hipbone. "If you still in any way want me..." (What the fuck did I do to make you think there'd ever be an 'if'?) "if this is still," and Simon is standing so close to him now that Wille thinks he must be feeling him. Must be feeling that Wille, despite himself and all that work he put into getting over Simon, very much fucking wants him. Now, always, probably for fucking ever. "If this is something you might want..." Simon presses against him now, hips against hips, and Wille wants to moan and cry and wrap him tightly in his arms because he can feel Simon again, too, here, close. Simon leans forward, lips moving towards Wille's ear. "Let me have this, Wille. If you still want this, let me have you."

Wille's moan is barely stifled when he feels the subtle movement of Simon against him, of Simon pressing into him, onto him, of Simon searching for contact and friction and more of Wille. "Not here," Wille tries, but he's already losing the battle and grinding his erection against Simon's, that quietly flickering flame he never quite managed to put out now stoked into a raging fire. "We don't have- and we're just-" And while he stammers away, while he digs his fingertips into Simon's side and relishes in the heady feeling of having him here again, he feels Simon slip something into his palm, a small bottle, familiar enough to make Wille's mind spin. (How did you-?) "I knew you'd be here," Simon confesses, unprompted. "I knew I'd see you." His lips leave burns in their wake as they brush down the side of Wille's jaw. Wille barely has control over his own hands, just barely registers that must be pulling Simon closer. And it seems like this breaks a dam inside of Simon. "Been thinking about you," he gasps out and Wille can feel his hands under his shirt now, digging nails into Wille's skin that remembers. "Been missing you," Simon admits, much more quietly, but before Wille has any chance - But why did you-? - Simon pushes on. "Missed feeling you... missed having you like this." And god, god, Wille is a broken man. He's never had a sense for when to stop, when to turn away from Simon before things become detrimental, and he's not about to now start acting like he has any control over his feelings towards this man. This man that ruined Wille for everyone forever. So of course Wille finds himself perched behind Simon in one of the seemingly countless storage rooms in Maddie's house, of course he's got Simon holding on to a shelf in front of him, with his pants bunched up around his knees, and of course he's back to opening Simon up for him, nice and slow and grabbing one of his ass cheeks, holding him open for a better view while he does it, because simply feeling him is not enough right now. Of course Simon is back to letting out those sounds that Wille has never stood a chance against, quiet hiccup-y moans that he draws out for a moment longer whenever Wille pulls out and gently eases his fingers back in, teasing. Simon feels just like Wille remembers, he moves just like Wille remembers, he lets out that same broken sound when Wille drops to his knees and asks if he can, please, if Simon is okay with it. He arches his back and pushes back against Wille's mouth, moans at every flick of his tongue, just like he's always done. The filthy string of profanities and desperate pleas falling from his mouth is just as enticing and encouraging as it's always been. The way Wille needs to hold Simon's hips in place, thumbs on his ass cheeks to help hold his open, the way Simon tastes, the way he grinds back and lets Wille fuck his tongue into him... It all hasn't changed one bit. Wille feels delirious, feels like he's stuck in one of those dreams that kept haunting him for weeks, months, after. He feels like he could risk waking up to his empty bed again if he pulls away to catch his breath. It still feels like a dream when he lines himself up with Simon's back, when he presses closer, not pushing in, just feeling the heat of Simon's body through his shirt, just relishing in the slick, hot tightness of being between Simon's thighs. It's so much, so fucking much that Wille needs a moment, that he needs to prepare for what he's sure will ruin him, that he needs to wait before entering him again.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, breathing heavily and grinding back desperately, and it's almost like it used to be, almost as sweet and caring and devastatingly gentle as they used to be. Almost, because there's an edge of fear, of worry, of uncertainty. Wille nods, pressing his forehead against the soft wispy hairs at the back of Simon's neck. He's so okay. He's so much more than okay, feels so much better than he has months and that alone is absolutely fucking breaking him apart. "So okay," Wille gasps out, pulling back slightly to line himself up. He ignores the slight tremor in his hands, that anticipatory shiver of pleasure that courses through him. "So fucking okay," he moans when he slowly pushes in, sinks against Simon, slips back into that old, familiar, breathtaking sensation of connection and closeness, of soft, warm bliss. And Simon does it, too, moans, throws his head back, angles himself so that Wille can slide home, can claim this feeling for the two of them, finally again. Simon's affirmative hum travels through Wille's chest like the heavy bass on the dance floor did earlier, Simon's sweetly assertive command for "more, Wille" pierces him like a knife. But he can, he absolutely wants to give Simon more. He pulls back slightly, only to thrust into him again, giving more and deeper and harder, making Simon's breathing stutter, making the shelf that's bearing more of less all the force groan under the impact. Every bit of desperation, every yearning thought Wille has tried to neatly file away breaks lose in him, every single time he dreamt of this imagined just one more chance at this hits him at once. By the time he pulls back, words of warning on his lips, mumbled apologies for being so gone so quickly, for not making this last any longer falling into the sweat-heavy air around them, his eyes are burning, his throat closing up. It can't be over already, not again, not now, not ever. Simon's arm shoots behind him, grabbing onto Wille's ass, pulling him closer again, urging him back inside to the hilt. Wille's hips stutter and he gasps out another pleading warning, sure that he's going to fall any minute now, but Simon only digs his blunt fingernails into Wille's skin. "Stay," Simon presses out, so quietly that Wille barely hears it. But it's enough to make Wille press his eyes shut, go rigid against Simon's back. "Inside me, please," he adds, words so drawn out and voice so breathy that Wille can't help but moan in response. Simon needs him, is all Wille can think of when Simon grinds back against him, Simon needs to feel him again, he thinks, as he listens to Simon's staccato breaths and the sound of his slickened hand jerking himself off. It's all the way it used to be, it's like he was never gone, it's like they picked up where they left off, like it's them, together, against all odds again. It takes no more than a couple thrusts before Wille is coming, gasping into the sweaty hair in the back of Simon's neck, pressing closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Simon's chest and stomach, like that will keep him from ever leaving again. Wille is still panting, still shaking, when he feels Simon's come hit his arm, feels Simon go pliant in his arms. He doesn't ask why now, why after all this time, when Simon, hands still holding Wille against him, like he, too, is scared Wille will leave, pants out a quiet "thank you". Wille doesn't ask what this means, either. Doesn't ask what Simon now thinks of him, what Simon now wants to do. He doesn't, can't, get out a single question while he holds onto Simon and Simon holds onto him.

OOOF. I......... I guess that was the vibe when I sat down to write this today. Thank you so so much for sending in that prompt, dear anon! I hope you enjoyed it! 💜💜💜

Send me "Wilmon" + a sentence and I will write you 2k apparently another 5(+) sentences

[harpieisthecarpie]

Okay not to be analysis georg over Alien Stage but I adore the ROUND 7 (Till vs Luka) art that dropped recently so much. And thus I will be analysis georg

(cw: I lightly and nonexplicitly reference the abuse Till suffered under captivity, including the heavily implied sa.

This is mostly contemplating Till's psyche, how Ivan's impact on Till contrasts the aliens, and art as rebellion against dehumanization. With that comes the possible triggers of Till's story.)

Till's closeup is what compelled me to post at all, because it's a very deliberate choice that speaks to his emotional state going in, and contrasts him strongly against Luka

This is long btw

The closeup focuses on the lower half of Till's face. It draws attention to his mouth and headset mic by mimicking a camera's depth of field to emphasize the yawning space between them, while using the metallic mic as a lure. The lighting sharpens the mic while softening Till.

The emphasis on Till's mouth (and mic) is indicative of a stark emotional shift from Round 6, where crushing hopelessness left him passive and barely singing.

Metatextually, the story being told by completely diagetic music videos ties strongly to the contrast between the aliens who've made the voices of the enslaved humans a commodity and the humans who are only given a voice through song.

There's a reason why music has been used for both propaganda and rebellion throughout our societal conflicts. You can only scream so loud before bystanders tune you out; music compels them to listen.

And I think that dichotomy between authority and autonomy, between the artist as product and as person, within the universe of Alien Stage is going to be delved a lot deeper into with 7.

Till having a hands-free mic and green strap over his shoulder leads me to believe he's going to be playing guitar again. Which we've seen him use for acts of rebellion before.

I saw someone saying the headset was a sign of his isolation, but I see it as him reviving the angry hope he'd extinguished using Ivan's memory. From what I've seen, Till never seemed happy when he had a standing or handheld mic. He's a creative, hands-on guy whose art and rebellions come from when he is able to use those hands.

Drawing, guitar, fighting... there's a reason he was singularly stripped of autonomy in ways we haven't seen happen much elsewhere (that physicality reminds me of Hyuna, I wonder if Luka will notice that). The caging, bodily restrictions, and physical degradation and assault from the aliens singularly target his personhood.

Even in the closeup art there's that possessive ownership, that clear replacement of Person with Commodity. His tears (or sweat) have been pointed out and remarked upon by the aliens. Yet the shot leaves out his eyes, which are often tied to personhood in literature because of how humanizing they are. Dilation, movement, eyelid position, blinking. It's hard to look into a creature's eyes and not understand there's a mind behind them.

The aliens commodify the emotion through his tears but deny the humanity behind them. They dissociate music as art with an artist behind it, even while intuitively knowing how an artist's lived experiences can create compelling music. The aliens want their product, they don't care that art isn't just entertainment to consume. They don't recognize the power music can have. They don't value it enough to truly understand it.

I wonder if this could be analagous to anything in the real world. Hm. Nahhhhhh. ANYWAYS

Till is creating what the aliens want, but the closeup has the same color palette as when he and Ivan were running away during the meteor shower. That shine on the mouthpiece even looks like a falling star.

The meteor shower was a moment of tension. A held breath before a breaking point: you can escape or you can stay trapped, but whatever decision you make you can't ever take it back.

It doesn't matter whether Till believes his last decision to stay was a mistake, he was a different person when Ivan took his hand. And he was changed again when Ivan kissed him before making that stage his death bed. Their death bed, perhaps, since something in Till had to die in order to be revived.

And Till is the only one in that arena who has the memory of running with Ivan under a cascade of falling stars. He is the only one those colors mean anything to. The aliens may be commodifying his tears, but they have no grasp on the emotions behind them. There is something within Till they cannot take, breathed into him by Ivan.

Ivan may have believed his love for Till was shallow, but he gave it freely. One of the reasons I even ship them is because Till has spent all his life in captivity getting pieces of himself carved out by aliens trying to consume his soul, and while Ivan can certainly be fucked up... he has always lain his insides out on a silver platter for Till. Given even the ugly bits over, despite knowing they'd be disregarded.

Till was strangled more visibly for how his humanity spilled out, but Ivan had been slowly suffocating because he refused to let them free. He accepted the role as pet (entertainment product dress-up doll) to keep his humanity safe. He played into the aliens' desires because he refused to give them any parts of himself that mattered.

But he still wanted to be seen, still needed to be known, so he gave them to Till.

And now Till is on that stage again (that had eaten Sua and Mizi and Ivan), carrying fragments of his loved ones that they had slipped into his palms. Quiet moments of joy and despair and fear and love. Bits of themselves they never allowed the aliens to have, that made a home in Till.

And what is love, surrounded by an entire society that refuses to acknowledge your humanity, other than an act of rebellion?

Which I think will be very interesting to see juxtaposed against how Luka seems to be portrayed. With an earpiece seemingly feeding him information, in the cool tones evoking a memory of Hyuna, whose closeup doesn't even deign to glance at his face.

(Though- not to overanalysis georg- it's interesting we get a glimpse at his seemingly gloved fingers. And that their color palettes are both interrupted by a small bit of green. Till's by what I think is a guitar strap, and Luka's by the center of his earpiece- and its sound.)

[credince--writes]

Gaz with a soft and sweet Reader who struggles with their self image and constantly tries to be better or feels they aren't good enough for him? And it like leads into comfort smut.

{Sorry it's been awhile since I've requested anything from someone. I hope this isn't too specific or boring ahchghbj also f!reader or GN are both fine}

I've had this cooking in my inbox for sooooo long bitch. So long. I finally finished it tonight- hope you enjoy.

Kyle Garrick Cunnilingus bliss below the cut, and a vague obsession with tummy.

It comes subconsciously, not that Kyle did anything intentionally to spur you on. To make you uncomfortable- no, it was quite the opposite.

Watching a movie together, a hand sliding over your midsection and if you'd been more engrossed in the film you'd of missed the subtle grope and slide of his hand over your midsection.

You reel back on instinct the second your brain catches up with the cupping motion- the rough palm and pads of his fingers gliding against the soft of your belly.

"Kyle-" You open your mouth to say something, he already knows. Knows this back and forth game (as he calls it).

He simply leans forward, hand continuing to trail upward like he didn't hear you gasp out his name- sliding over your ribs and sliding the pads of his fingers against the seam of your breast against your ribs- fluttering beat of your heart screaming against the cage of bone and flesh.

"Kyle." You whine out again, "Don't do that." A huff of breath, a shift of hips. The last thing you need to be reminded of is-

"Why? I like it." He hums, as if it's as simple as that. Story over. No questions please, onto the next topic.

Your eyes narrow, flabberghasted. (He wonders why, you've been through this with him so many times.) "Well I don't like it..." Your lips purse together in a pout.

He looms over you, twisting his torso so face you completely. Shifting onto his knees, bringing his body up to hover above your own. Craning your neck backwards and up-

His lips meet yours in a gentle, wet, languid kiss. It's a tease, him lifting his body over yours to deprive you of the feeling of his hips grinding into your own. The tense jutting of your hips forward to find purchase against nothing- his knees planted firmly into the cushions away from the division of your thighs.

"I like seein' how well I take care of you, love." He replies, it's breathy- pupils blown wide when he pulls back. Saliva glistening against his lips.

Pretty boy.

He pulls himself backward- upward- leaning back on his haunches and you can't help but follow. Zoned in on bringing your lips to his - following upward- up- up- up-

His hands find purchase beneath your armpits, pulling you up and against the arm of the couch- spinning you and pinning your hips against the padded wood of the arm. The heat flushing your cheeks is immediate- eyes trailing up to see your torso hanging limply, tits spilling out of your top in the reflection of the mirror mounted on the wall.

"Want you to see how pretty you are for me..." His hips press against the seam of your thighs and ass, cock hard tucked into the confines of his sweatpants.

"I-.." You nearly choke, overwhelmed, the words go unsaid. 'I don't feel pretty, I don't want to see this, I don't see how you could not see what I do-'

Strong hands pull the elastic of your sweatpants down past your hips, his longer fingers hooking around the bands of your panties- no need for two separate pulls, he's getting to it regardless, so why not get there quicker?

"Sh.. Baby," He mumbles, leaning down and pressing kisses from the soft flesh of your sides, down your hips, and closer to your fluttering core.

You watch in the mirror as he trails kisses down your back, down your backside, hot, wet mouth trailing kisses beneath your thighs. "Gonna show you how pretty you are." It's not a request, nor is it light commentary. Voice dipping down to levels you hear on occasion- agitated phone calls, the off chance your see him at work. Your knees push against each other as you clench, muscles tightening, electricity running through your veins. Throat tightening, excitement bubbling your blood you lean your hips backward, connecting with his face.

"Yes Sergeant." It comes out breathy- and the groan of approval from behind you speaks all you need to know.

The open mouthed kiss pressed against your pussy sends a shock up your spine, jolting forward and digging your fingers into the plush of the couch's arm.

A grumble from behind, hands sliding up and past your hips. Cupping the plush of your midsection with both hands before strongly guiding you to rock onto his waiting tongue.

He eats pussy like it's his favorite meal, tucking his tongue through your folds and into your hole before puckering his lips against your clit and suctioning on. Listening to the sounds you make, pawing at your flesh and rocking your hips into his mouth- creating the delicious rhythm that ends with your forehead pressed against the cushion, whining out one of Kyle's favorite noises.

You're about to cum.

His left hand pulls back from your midsection, sliding over your mount before rubbing small circles into your clit with his thumb, pointer and middle finger diving into your sopping cunt.

He pulls back, enough for his chin to rest on the very top of your tailbone.

"Look at me, love."

God, it's that tone. It's not snappy, no, but it's firm. Leaves no room for writhing or whining.

You blink, snapping your mouth shut before anymore drool dares to seep out. Vision creeping up the reflection of the mirror to see his pretty pout as he pumps two fingers into you, while rubbing your clit silly.

You rock back onto his fingers for more purchase, he smiles.

"You wanna cum?"

The words process, registering in the count of 4 rocks of your hips before whining out a loose "uhh-huh."

"Only pretty girls get to cum, love. You know the rules."

You squeeze your eyes shut, tight, his thumb withdrawing on your clit, delicious friction lessening. Enough, barely, there, but you're greedy. You want him- all of him- and you want him to give you more.

The light chuckle above you as you whine in frustration, grinding your hips down onto his thumb to give any more friction against your clit, fingers speeding up the pump in and out of your cunt until theirs a chorus of wet squelches filling the room.

"Who's my pretty girl?" His right hand tightens, pulling on the supple flesh of your belly.

You lower your head, shame burning against your face, sweat, beaded against your forehead-

"no,nono..." A third finger slips into your cunt, a keening squeal erupting from your throat. Kyle's chastising you-leaning his mouth down to the shell of your ear. Hot breath exhaling- "You need to see the pretty little thing I'm three fingers deep in, right love?"

You look up, the lewd scene of Kyle splaying himself over and across you back. Hand tucked behind you pumping deliciously long and thing fingers in and out.

"Yes- Yes,yesyes.... I see... mmm' Kyle, please baby-" You feel so tense, the babbling spilling from your lips. Your entire body is a muscle ready to pull- the tension causing your thighs to shake.

"Then tell me what you see baby." You'd groan, if you weren't so stupidly horny.

"I see a pretty girl." You groan out, the pressure of his thumb against your clit growing. Pressing down onto the nub- sparks start to fly in the corners of your vision.

"What's that? What're you?" He asks, pulling off of your back and leaning back on his haunches to inspect the generous flow of your slick against his fingers. Hand trailing up from your tummy and cuping your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"A pretty girl-"

"My pretty girl, don't forget it." His fingers scoop upwards against the spongy ceiling deep inside you- a gush of wetness into his palm.

Your eyes trail upward and catch the glisten of your juices against his chin, collected in his mustache- the flick of his tongue up against his lip to taste you-

You cum so hard his fingers are pushed out of your pussy- like standing with low iron, no blood to reach your brain, you feel like you might faint. The feeling of him hauling you up and backwards onto his lap.

Heavy breathing, the feeling of sweat cooling on your brow.

His hands, smoothing up your midsection and giving your poor clit a moment to allow the throbbing to subside. His hard cock pressing against your back.

"Is my pretty girl ready to ride me?"

You're obliged to agree, seems as though your his pretty girl n' all.

[witchofsparkles]

Vampire Ghost and hunter Soap fic I wrote a while ago. I'm posting the full fic down below, it's also on AO3. You can check the tags first on AO3 if you like.

Soap aimed his crossbow for the deer bowed its head. It was oblivious to the human and the bow in his hand, didn't realize the fate that was on the way to claim its reward.

Every living thing was a fuel to the another. The energy never disappears but it changes. The deer's life was going to be the human's. There was a circle to complete. The circle of life.

But when Soap released the trigger and waited for the deer to shake with the arrow's force, it went into something taller and slender. Something more human. Soap watched the deer to run away into the depths of the forest and slowly walked to the prey. It was a human. At least his body was, Soap couldn't see the face of him because of the skull mask covering most of it. He squated next to him to check his pulse. Yes, Soap was a hunter and a killer if it came to it, but he wasn't out to kill innocent people. If he didn't see it necessary to his survival, every breath was God's to take.

Soap reached for the man's neck, to see if he is alive and thought he faced the death itself. The man reacted with the speed of light and Soap found his neck between the man's hand. The pulse he wanted to feel was the man's, not his own.

"Hey, calm down. It was an accident, are you okay?" Soap eyed the arrow's entry point and saw it was just under his shoulder. It shouldn't be life threatening. The man was still breathing harshly like a caged animal, so Soap put his hands on the man's. He hoped to calm him down, but the hand squeezed his neck more. "You're going to kill me." Soap managed to whisper through his clenched jaw but he started to see the stars. "I can't breath."

That brought the man's senses back and he relaxed his hand around Soap. Then leaned back to the tree behind him, kept watching Soap who was struggling to breath between coughing fits. "I was going after the deer. What were you doing there?"

Soap stared at the injured man and waited for an answer that seemed like would never come. But he spoke, with a powerless but deep voice. It was almost like he was using his all strength for a couple words. Soap didn't know who was in a worse condition: Soap who just got choked or the man who got shot with an arrow. "Going after the deer."

Soap sat down with a grunt, face to face with the man. After a careful and long watch, Soap pointed to the arrow on the man's shoulder. "Do you want me to take it out?"

The man didn't answer.

"You were going after the deer too? I don't see any weapon. You would catch it with what? Hopes and dreams?" That granted Soap a stare. He could imagine the man was raising an eyebrow. But he didn't answer, again.

"Do you have anyone at home that can cook and nurse?" The man's eyes met with Soap's and they stayed like that under the setting sun for some time. Soap couldn't see the man's eyes, they were in the shadow under the skull mask but he could see his mouth which had scars around. Soap found it sad, for some reason. It looked like the man never smiled in his life. That made him come to a decision and Soap raised to his feet. Then under the masked man's questioning eyes, he extended his hand. "Come. Let's get that wound cleaned up."

The man followed him after a brief moment, Soap guessed he was weighing his choices and walked especially slower. But when he heard the silent footsteps, Soap picked the conversation from where he left. "So. What's your name?" That stretched the silence, rather than putting a stop to it. Soap turned his head back to see the man. "I'm Soap. It's John, actually but people call me Soap. I'm taking Tarzan home, I think I deserve a name."

The man was holding the arrow stable with his hand while following Soap down the hill and he didn't raise his eyes when answering. "Ghost." Soap nodded to himself as if it was the most satisfying name he heard and Ghost frowned behing him. If he knew why Ghost was given that name, he wouldn't be looking so carefree.

They came to Soap's house, which was more like a hut than a house. There were only two rooms inside and they were small. Soap's head was just under the door but Ghost had to bend slightly to protect his head. Soap left Ghost in the room with a couch, a small table and two chairs. On his right were two kitchen cabinets with a sink and a stove. Enough things for a man who lives alone, Ghost thought. When Soap returned to the room with gauzes and medicines, Ghost went to the couch without giving Soap time to say anything. If he wanted to get the arrow out, who was he to stop him? But Ghost didn't know how to explain that he stopped bleeding long ago and the only thing preventing the wound from closing was the arrowhead still buried into his flesh.

And yet, Soap didn't face any opposition when he held the shirt to cut it away. The white shirt was wet with blood and Soap expected to see an injury under it, but the under the dried blood was just an arrow. Soap grabbed the arrow with his right hand and put his left on Ghost's chest to stabilize himself. The injury that stopped bleeding was in the vicinity of things he could maybe explain to himself, but not feeling any heartbeat under his palm was not. While pulling the arrow out with force, Soap did everything he could to not start shaking like leaf under Ghost's gaze and the heart that wasn't beating. And the worst, he invited him in.

Soap looked at the arrow in his hand. Ghost didn't make any sound when Soap was forcing the arrow out. His hand was aching from gripping it too tight but Ghost didn't make any sound.

Why would he, if he wasn't a human?

Soap took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. If Ghost wanted to kill him, he wouldn't be alive now. And there they were, Soap's knee on the couch between Ghost's thighs and his hand on his chest. He didn't look like he was going for Soap's head.

"Okay. The arrow is out and apparently you don't need gauzes, " Soap said nervously. His eyes were still on the hole, which supposed to stay open for at least a week. The flesh was already mending. Ghost's lips curled with a cold smile. "What?"

Soap took himself back quickly, almost stepping on his own foot. His heart was beating like caged bird in his chest. "You don't have a heart." Ghost's smile stayed but Soap knew it didn't reach his eyes. It didn't even reach his lips. It was only there for a show. "Ouch. I just told you my name."

Soap waved his hand after he huffed a short, unamused laugh. "It wasn't metaphorical. Your heart literally don't beat. Who the fuck are you?"

Ghost wasn't sitting anymore, he got to his feet and closed the gap between them. Soap hated how he had to lift his head a little to see Ghost's eyes and how it made him feel like a prey. He remembered three hours ago, how he thought this man was lying there like one. "I'm a demon you welcomed in." Soap's mind haywired and he actually laughed. It came from inside, from his belly and his whole body shook with the force of it. He noticed this whole thing was a sick joke but he was standing face to face with a probably immortal or already dead creature -given the fact that he had no beating heart. He had his own doubts of the origin of him, but to hell with it. He just pulled an arrow out of a myth, he had his reasons to lose it a little.

"Oh please. Who are you? Dracula? Go sit down when I'm prepping the meal. Even the demons get hungry."

Soap turned his back to Ghost and went to the kitchen, as if his heart was not about to leave his ribcage. He wasn't aware what he was saying until after he already said it and only thing he was sure about was that Ghost could most likely rip his head of when he was reaching for the pan. And yes, the demons would get hungry but what did they eat?

Ghost watched Soap from the couch he was sitting. He had a thoughtful look on his face. Was he really so fearless or so stupid? Soap didn't know what he was, he only got the vague idea of him being not human and said fuck it. Why was he treating Ghost like a human? Like someone who deserves any kindness of heart? He didn't have a heart.

Ghost didn't need kindness. He didn't need to rest. He didn't need his wounds to be cleaned. He didn't need to eat. Not normal, human meals, at least.

He needed to feed like every living creature. With or without a heart. But he only needed the souls. The flesh wasn't on the menu.

"What do you want to eat? I couldn't hunt, thanks to someone, so I don't have any meat." Ghost didn't look away from Soap's back and Soap shuddered under the realization of being watched. He had to ask what Ghost was eating. He had to know.

"Nothing. I don't eat. I... devour." Soap's hand froze on the ladle and he had to stop himself from reaching to the knife. He turned to face Ghost, who was still sitting where he left him. There wasn't any emotion on his mouth, the only part on his face that Soap could see. "Devour what? The souls of the innocent?" Soap's voice was mixed with mock but one could feel the tension behind it. Ghost sent him a little smirk as a prize of getting it right. "Enemies and the animals first. But if I have to, innocents are okay too."

"You're just pulling my leg now." Soap made a sound that indicates he didn't buy it. But the longer he looked at Ghost's unwavering eyes, the more he lost his confidence. "You're telling the truth. What the fuck?"

Ghost shrugged, and crossed his arms on his chest. "So. What's for the dinner?"

After an uncomfortable dinner which Ghost just watched while Soap was drinking a tasteless soup, he left Ghost in the room and went to bed to the next room. The idea of locking the door crossed his mind but he didn't. If Ghost wanted to take his soul away, a wooden door with a key on it wouldn't stop him. So he just left the door unlocked but closed, then went to bed. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep with the fact that a soul sucker vampire was in the next room, but he drifted the moment his head touched the pillow. He dreamed of ghosts and souls.

The days turned into weeks like this. Soap didn't ask for Ghost to leave. It was out of fear at first but then he just liked to have a company. He didn't take his mask of, he didn't eat and sometimes he left for a couple of hours but he was always back before the night. Soap even found himself forgetting that Ghost wasn't a human. He was just there with his sometimes inappropriate jokes and sometimes silence. But these last days, he was mostly on the silent side and it made Soap feel... worried.

"Ghost, you good?" Ghost was on the couch, just lying there and dangling his feet from the armrest. He didn't voice an answer but nodded. Soap pressed the matter, cause Ghost's skin was looking paler than normal. "You look sick." Soap waited. Ghost would talk when he wanted to, not when he have to. While waiting to be taken into consideration of answering, Soap had a disturbing idea. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Ghost finally looked at Soap. He looked into his eyes. Soap bit his lip. "Was it before we met? Were you going for the deer because of it?" Ghost sighed. "Yes, Johnny."

Soap didnt dwell on the nickname. Not yet. "But you left almost everyday. You didn't find any animal?" Soap followed Ghost's stare and looked out the window. It was snowing. "I don't go for every animal. The sick ones are already dead, the healthy ones are gone."

"How big should it be?" Soap asked with urgency. If Ghost was half sick as his face, Soap was scared that he was gonna die in two days. Ghost didn't make a sound and for a second, Soap thought he just withered away in front of his eyes. The thought of Ghost dying made his breath caught in his throat. "Is a chicken okay? I don't know, a sheep?"

Ghost turned his head to the side and stared at Soap. He looked so helpless and panicked. Ghost smiled to him. It was a genuine one, and Ghost knew Soap noticed that too. He knew it from how Soap's posture changed. How he tensed first, then relaxed. How his shoulders sagged with relief for a moment. "Whatever you can find. A soul is a soul."

It did matter. Yes, a soul was a soul but the smarter the creature was the more fullfilling it would be. A cat's soul would do it for him, for two days. Maybe. A crow? About a week. That's why, the other ones were always hunting humans. They were the epitomes of wit. The emperors of the food chain. But he didn't have the luxury of a choice. He was already hungry and weak when he met Soap. After that, with every passing day with no soul, he got weaker. The weaker he became, the lesser he could go out to hunt. And because the village was small and they didn't know him, he couldn't go to the other houses to see if they have any animal. The last time he left the house, he had to sit under a tree not too far from home so he could go back. At first, staying with the human was a wise choice for him. If he couldn't hunt, he could always take Soap's soul. After some time, he couldn't bring himself to even think about it. The image of Soap between his arms, his soul leaving his body to feed Ghost, his blue eyes closing forever to keep Ghost's eyes open.

It sounded so sick and so wrong.

He found himself at the bring of death, so he could keep Soap alive.

When Soap came back, his hands were empty and there was a shocked look on his face. Ghost knew something was wrong. He sat up quickly and saw the stars for a moment. Soap was still standing in front of the door that closed after him. "They... They're all dead. Everyone. All of them." Ghost frowned. He took Soap's hand without thinking about it and got his attention. "What's happening? Tell me. Slowly." Soap nodded and dropped himself next to Ghost on the couch. There was a distant look in his eyes. "I- The village was too quiet. I followed the road down, I walked till the woods. Every door was closed. There was no one outside. Even the kids. Kids are always outside. I knocked on the doors, no answer. Then I saw blood on the path. Just droplets. Followed it through, it was going inside a house. The door wasn't locked so I went inside." Soap stopped talking and pressed into his eyes with his palms like he wanted to erase the scenes from his brain. Ghost put his hand on Soap's back and slowly circled. He hoped to bring some peace. "All dead. Went from door to door. All dead. Kids, animals, even the bugs. All dead. I found blood on only few of the bodies. The rest was... just sleeping. They didn't look dead. They looked like sleeping."

Ghost's body froze. He could feel Soap's skin under his palm and the heat radiating from it, but rest of his body was frozen. "Like sleeping. Are you sure?" Oblivious to Ghost's state of mind, Soap nodded. He was looking at his own hands. "Yes. No injury. They were all clean except the ones with blood. I think they tried to fight against whatever it was."

Ghost didn't talk for a long time and Soap's mind was occupied with the images of his friends bodies. Then he snapped his head to look at Ghost. Ghost was lost in thoughts but Soap figured it out. He figured it out long ago, deep down he got what was happening but only now he could voice it. "Ghost. Is it only you? The vampire?" Ghost nodded slowly and the nightmare turned into reality. Soap clenched his fists to slow his breath down. So he wouldn't start shouting. "How many? Ghost. How many? Did I do this to them? Did they follow you? Or were they looking for you? Are you a part of a pack? Did you do this?" Soap's voice raised through the talking and he was yelling at the end. He didn't realize he was standing in front of Ghost till he looked down and saw Ghost's head hanging low.

"I left them a long time ago. They turned me into this monster, and feed me the souls. The humans. It was mandatory for them, to feed on humans. They always went after the smartest ones, in wit and in emotion. After they made me eat the soul of a child, I left. And I brought the bastards with me. Their souls. It's a funny thing, how we think when the heart stops the soul leaves. It's normally like that.Any human would lose their souls when their heart stopped. But with us, it's different. Our hearts stopped long ago, but we still live. It's like we tricked God into thinking we're still alive, even after hundreds of years. Or we're all so wicked that even God doesn't want to claim our souls. When I ate the other ones' I tasted rotten blood. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten. But when I was feeding on them, I also fed on the souls they took. I tasted fear, sadness, happiness, hope, love... I tasted it all. Then I tasted my own mother. My brother and his finance, my nephew. These bastards put their hands on my family."

Soap couldn't move. Couldn't breath. He felt the tears stinging his eyes. He let them fall, and stream down his face.

"Among them, I found who did it. And I sliced him. Carved him with a knife. You see, Johnny, I was a soldier before. They turned me because I was too good. The perfect soldier. But I would die one day. So they turned me into this beast. I know how to torture and how to make people scream with pain. But he was already dead and I already took his soul. So I carved a message on his body." Ghost took a knife out of his pocket and showed to Soap. "This is the only thing that was left from my old life. I want to end the new one with it too. Unless someone from them or God himself doesn't want to get my soul, I will keep walking this earth till the apocalypse come and take us all. Or maybe, one day, I will be strong enough to do it myself."

Soap was still looking down at Ghost. Ghost, who was sitting like a stone while telling Soap his life. The horrors he experienced. He squatted down. It was like the first day they met. Soap wrapped his arms around Ghost's body and pulled him close, his head was just under Soap's chin. Ghost trembled and took a deep breath, like the weight on his shoulders lifted with the touch of Soap. He leaned to Soap's chest without realizing and the hard edges of the mask sinked into Soap's flesh.

Soap didn't move, but Ghost knew it hurt. He took the mask out, then hugged Soap back with force. Like he was trying to run away from the world into the Soap's chest. Like he was trying to get into it, to nest in his ribcage and become the neighbour to his heart. Soap stroked his back, and let him pour it all out. If he wanted to stay, he was going to let him stay. Let it be in his house, or in his heart. Both were his home.

Ghost took himself back from the Soap's hug and for a moment, he didn't lift his head. It was an integral part of Ghost, Soap couldn't possibly imagine how hard it was to take it off in front of someone else. "I put this mask on after they force me to take that child's soul. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. I was an entity with a damned soul and no heart. I was a ghost." Ghost looked up at Soap and it made Soap's heart jump. Soap saw his brown, more like auburn hair with blond strands here and there. And saw his brown eyes, which turned into pot of honey under the sun. His mouth was always on display, with scars around it that made him look like a mistreated porcelain doll. But the cheekbones were new. The cut starting from under his eye and ending right before where the mask sits was new. The freckles across his face were brilliant, like God took a look at it and decided it would be a nice location for another desert. For Soap to get lost and see a mirage under his eyes.

Soap took Ghost's hands into his and didn't look away from his eyes. Then kissed the corner of his lips. Lifted corners with a smile was the prize. Ghost held his face with both hands, then put his thumbs under Soap's eyes. He drank from the oceans, that clenched his thirst. Then he went for his lips, and not like a shy thank you. Ghost devoured Soap's lips. The human Ghost thought that he would eat his soul away was taking his' through the lips. And Ghost was giving it away willingly.

The moment ended with a bang on the door and they froze on the spot. Ghost went for his mask again, and Soap ran to the kitchen to get a knife. "Simon... I know you're here, dear." Ghost's hand stopped at midair with the mask. After hearing the name, he lowered his hand and dropped the mask. Soap wasn't listening the man shouting outside the door. His eyes were on Ghost. And when Ghost handed Soap the knife he was carrying with him, he snapped. "What are you thinking?"

Ghost didn't speak. But his eyes and face did. "Absolutely not. You're not fed. You're weak. And you give the knife to me? No." Ghost put the knife in Soap's palm and made him clench his fist, then put his hand on top of it. "I've been alive for 200 years, Johnny. And you're the best thing ever happened to me." Soap shook his head furiously. "No. Ghost -Simon. No. I won't allow it. Stay. We can figure it out."

Ghost listened the sounds. There were at least three of them. In his best, Ghost would take them down at the same time. But now, he was weaker than a kid and he knew they came after him, not Johnny. He wasn't going to put his life in danger. Ghost leaned in for another kiss before getting up to his feet. A kiss of goodbye. Soap wanted to tear down the walls with his fingers.

Ghost left like a summer breeze in the middle of the barren winter.

Soap's grip around the knife tightened to the degree that the handle left prints in his palm. He got up and went to the door. He wasn't going to let them get Ghost alone. Even as a mere human, he knew he could do something. He was a hunter, he could do some damage. When he grabbed the knob with determination, the door opened wide with a bang. A man with a red hair with blood on his face was standing in front of him with psychopatic smile. "Hi, Johnny. Let's take a walk."

Soap used the knife Ghost gave him on the red haired man. He stabbed his arm but it didn't make him leave Soap. Instead, he bent Soap's arm to his back and took him out of the house. Soap didn't realize how far they come till they stopped and only then he noticed the speed they had. The man almost flied him to the woods with his speed. When they stopped, Soap took a look at their surroundings and his eyes stopped at Ghost. He was bleeding from his arms and his face, Soap saw a hole on his chest which made his heart stop. Ghost's wounds would close by itself normally, but his body was too hungry to do so. He was going to die soon. "Ghost..."

Ghost's unseeing eyes focused on Soap and his eyes widen with fear. He struggled under the grip of the other man. "Soap! No! Why did you take him? This is between us!" Ghost's cries didn't reach to the red haired man. He just laughed. "All these fightings made me hungry. I bought a snack on my way back." The man turned his look from Soap to Ghost, then his smile turned into something more wicked. "Oh. I almost forgot. You didnt eat for so long, right? I will leave this for you. I know you don't like it, but a cut on the body will do the job. It did before."

He touched Soap's cheek and made a little cut with his fingernail, just enough to draw blood. "Soap, did you know he hates to take human soul? But the beast does like it. Blood is the link between the body and the soul. If you bring it out, we always want to taste it. Some of us want it more than the others. Especially if you're too hungry. Too weak. If you're at the door of the underworld, the beast will do anything to keep its soul inside the body. To keep it from dying."

Soap locked his eyes with Ghost, and saw the color leaving his face. He was living up to his name now, his face was as white as a ghost. Soap could see him struggling, trying to lock his jaw, close his mouth, dig his toes into the dirt to keep him from moving. But Soap also could see the beast was winning. Ghost was too helpless, he didn't have enough strength to hold himself back. The man standing at Ghost's side let him go.

Soap closed his eyes. He didn't mind dying. He didn't mind it because he knew his soul was going to live in Ghost. He was going to let Soap in, like Soap did with Ghost weeks ago. Soap was okay with it.

He embraced death with open arms.

But it didn't come. He felt the grip on his coat loosen and he planted on the ground face first. He tasted dirt in his mouth but his soul was where it should be. He stayed on his knees and hands first, then looked around. The man with the red hair was on the ground and his eyes were looking at the trees above, empty. He was dead. Rather, his soul was sucked out of him. Soap searched for Ghost and found him on the other side, the man who was holding Ghost was now between Ghost's arms, his limbs stopping moving by the time goes.

When Ghost finished his job, he tossed the body to the side like a trash. He left the mask home, so Soap saw his face as a whole. He looked phenomenal with the dried blood on his cheek and the franzy look on his eyes. But he felt scared too. This was the beast. The monster. Even though Ghost could take his last breath away from his lungs, Soap still reached a hand to him when Ghost got closer. "Simon..."

Ghost squatted and took Soap's hand, then lifted it to his face and pressed his cheek on it. Then kissed his palm. "Yes, Johnny. I'm here."

Soap let Ghost wrap him into a hug. They stayed like that for a moment, till the tension of fear leave both of their bodies. Soap nudged his head into Ghost's neck and spoke in a muffled voice. "Simon, is it over?" Ghost nodded over him. "It is. We can go home now."

Soap grabbed Ghost's shirt and held him down with himself. "Everybody is dead. There's no home." Ghost kissed the top of Soap's head. "Wherever you are, there is my home. We can leave, if you want. To somewhere better."

Soap chuckled under him. "To somewhere with unlimited access to little innocent animals."

"That too, yeah." Ghost parted away and saw Soap still holding the knife he gave, grabbing it to death. Ghost unclenched his fist, then took the knife away. It made a deep cut on Soap's hand, the blade was dripping blood. Ghost wrapped the wound with a piece of the red hair man's cloth, then clened the knife on his shirt. Soap shook his head when Ghost wanted to give the knife back. "No. It's yours. And no one's dying. So you can take it."

Ghost refused, and put the knife back on Soap's good hand. "My life is always in your hands. You can kill my kind with a stab to the heart. I never had the courage, never bring myself to try. But if one day-" Soap stopped Ghost from talking with a kiss. He kissed Ghost like this was a war and Soap was determined to win. Ghost breathed into Soap's mouth and Soap tasted Ghost's soul. He tasted love and murder. Both had traces of blood.

"If you ever, ever, talk about dying again. I will kill you. Just a warning." Ghost laughed and bit Soap's lower lip. "Mhm. I'm warned."

Five hundred years later, a man with a wide hat stepped next to a disturbed tomb. He had a shovel in his hand, and the grave was getting swept by men and women with shovels and all kinds of tools. "Price!" The man turned to the sound of his name. "Gaz. What's it?" Gaz pointed to a grave that was six foot away. "Take a look at this."

They were called to a graveyard because a sick bastard was burying his victims' bodies with the already dead people. Price greeted the people working on the other graves on his way and went to the one Gaz pointed. "Would you look at that?"

Price lowered himself and tried to take everything in. There was two bodies in the space of one, so he thought it was the psycho's doing but when he gave his attention he realized it wasn't the case.

What was left from them were only the skeleton but a trained eye could see it. One of the bodies was almost in a manner of hugging the other. The hugged one had nothing and probably died of natural causes because Price couldn't see any trauma on the bones. He was probably too old, if you take the sternum's width. But the other, the one that looked like it was hugging, had a knife between his ribs, stuck there till eternity.

Price took his eyes from the grave and plunged the shovel into the ground, taking a load of it and filling the grave. "Let them rest, son."

[total-drama-brainrot]

i now wanna hear your very long character analysis on how the drama machine affected alejandro

Yeah alright.

So I haven't actually watched All-stars, but I did skim through this video to get a feel for Alejandro's characterisation in it, since All-stars is the only canonical material we get from Alejandro post Drama Machine.

And by skim I really do mean skim; I was mostly looking out for signs of his imprisonment's influence, which for the most part seems to be as follows:

His legs fell asleep.

He developed a minor case of agoraphobia, mostly in the context of sleeping in open spaces.

His standards of human interaction have plummeted; something he's aware and accepting of.

Interestingly enough, he doesn't really seem to acknowledge the volcano itself (outside of an offhanded comment) or the injuries he got from the explosion. His focus is solely on his time in the suit, not what out him there in the first place. He even skirts over a memory loss issue, which could contribute to this.

I'll tackle these three points in more detail, and then give examples of how they can be developed into actual characterisation points instead of (for the most part) gags.

Number one; Leggy McLatin and the paraplegia scheme.

Alejandro's inadvertant and unintentional escape from the Drama Machine, and subsequent readmission into the competition (as himself, instead of as the machine) is, for the most part, entirely focal on the fact that his legs no longer work after his year of entrapment. It's a big deal - or, at least, as big of a deal as any injury or ailment can be in the context of Total Drama, considering that he doesn't miraculously get better in the span of an episode. Of course, we learn fairly early on that he's faking the paraplegia, but it's fairly heavily implied that his legs really were asleep initially (and that, in all likelihood, the massage we see him getting from an intern is what "wakes them up").

What's interesting about this particular plotline choice is that it would, realistically, be entirely feasable for Alejandro to have mobility issues after spending a year inside a robot.

Now, I'm no doctor, nor do I have any formal medical training, but I do know that not being able to move your body for an extended period of time results in a serious case of muscle atrophy. We see in canon that Alejandro was essentially locked in a seated position for the year; his arms, head and (assumedly) torso had place to move around, but he couldn't really stretch out his legs. This would explain the "weakness" of his legs in the first episode - i.e. their wobbliness, and the fact that they couldn't hold up Alejandro's body weight. The numbness he cites would be explained by poor circulation - again caused by him being sat down for a solid twelve months.

Or it could be nerve damage from the eruption, but given that Alejandro doesn't seem to have any long-term issues that stem from the volcano itself, it's unlikely.

So it can be assumed that the numbness of his legs was offset by the massage he gets after the first challenge. The masseuse kickstarts the blood circulation back into his legs, resulting in him regaining sensation in them - enough feeling to notice a crab pinching at his feet.

And, if I really want to reach into headcanon territory/realism, the reason he keeps up the "ruse" is because, despite having feeling in his legs, the muscles there are still fairly atrophied and he has a lot of trouble walking, let alone running, for extended periods of time. Though, as it stands, any long-term impact on his health would be entirely headcanon/fanon territory, due to the nature of the show itself.*

Then there's the psychological aspect to consider. Alejandro's a very prideful person by design - that's evident in both the way he portrays himself and the physical standards he holds himself to. Having use of half of his body stripped away from his is bound to be distressing, perhaps even traumatising. Hence why he tries to make himself as useful to the team as possible despite still recovering; he needs everyone to see that he's still capable.

Eventually his legs fully recover, because this is Total Drama and things like "realistic healing processes" and "lasting damage" don't seem to exist in-universe.

Number two; snug as a bug in a rug.

Alejandro's shown to have started sleeping in a sleeping bag throughout All-stars. He even canonically states that he needs to, because of his time in the Drama Machine. He cites that sleeping whilst srpawled out makes him uncomfortable, unspokenly referring to the fact that, for a year, he'd only had the option to sleep in an incredibly cramped position/environment.

This is interesting since, for the most part, you'd assume that someone held in close-quaters captivity would develop claustrophobia instead of a form of agorophobia, and yet Alejandro seems to have internalised the need to be in an enclosed space to sleep. Maybe it's symptom of just how long be was encased for - a year is a long time - or maybe it started out as claustrophobia, but the indefinate nature of his captivity morphed the initial fear into a twisted sort of coping mechanism.

It begs the question; what else can't Alejandro do in open spaces?

Is he perpetually uncomfortable with the openness of the outside world? Does he resort to hermiting himself into closed-off corners and enclosed rooms, just to feel a semblence of normalcy after he escapes the confines of the Drama Machine? Would he take to wearing tighter but more concealing clothing, just to immitate the feeling/pressure of being trapped in a too-tight enclosure?

Is his need for a snug sleeping space indicitive of him missing his isolated imprisonment?

Which brings us nicely into the third point.

Number three; long-term isolation and the effects thereof.

Alejandro explodes out of a glorified toaster and one of the first things he really comments on is Heather's off-putting personality and her facial hair. In a positive manner. He's so starved for human contact that he attaches himself to the first "friendly"/familiar face he sees, which in this case is Heather, and focuses on the aspects of her that make her human.

If he were a "weaker man", I have no doubt Alejandro would be clambering for attention from his team, mostly for proof that he's no longer completely isolated. It's a well-documented phenomenon; people who experience a long time in isolation, or who suffer through long periods of loneliness, become desperate for socialisation (and physical contact), to the point their immune systems and biological rhythyms (from circadian to infradian) start to deteriorate.

Realistically, Alejandro would've come out of the Drama Machine a desperate and sickly mess, riddled with insomnia and paranoia and incredibly touch-starved. But, as established, the show isn't exactly true-to-life when it comes to things like this, so...

As it stands, the fact that he emerged from his prison and immediately jumped back into his charming persona attests more to the fact that his flirtatious act is so deeply ingrained into his psyche than it does to his mental wellbeing. It could be argued that he's using the same act/mask/persona as a tether to his old self and an anchor to normalcy, as he'd likely crumble into an inconsolable mess without the scaffolding of his "TV personality" keeping him upright (metaphorically of course, as Alejandro is in fact not upright in the show. He's upside down for the majority of his time on All-stars).

Or maybe he's just built different? Who's to say.

We don't exactly know what went down during his year away, so it's impossible to make any concrete statements as to whether Alejandro was afforded the luxury of other people's company, or if he really was kept 100% isolated in the machine. The only thing we do know is that he likely had access to a phone, though didn't have the capability of using it without assistance, since he calls Heather out for never trying to contact him but also states the impossibility of him doing the same in turn.

Number four; lava damage and the lack thereof.

It's sort of explained during his scene at the end of World Tour, but Alejandro's whole "being trapped in the Drama Machine" deal - alongside being a parody of the scene where Anakin Skywalker is first put into the Darth Vader suit - is stated to be for his own benefit. He's essentially being locked away into a healing suit. Again, just like Anakin - they both even sport similar burn wounds.

He mentions at the beginning of All-stars that he doesn't really remember being put into the machine, and it's safe to assume that the majority of his time in the contraption is likely fuzzy to him as well; being fully concious of complete isolation for a whole year would be enough to drive anyone completely mad, and Alejandro is decidedly not insane (for the most part). Ergo, it's also a safe assumption that the inner mechanisms of the Drama Machine act as a sort of stoporous healing chamber, keeping Alejandro semi-concious and healing his various lava burns over the course of his concealment.

Sort of like a medical coma. Inside of a robot. A portable medical coma.

The "healing properties" would also justify why Alejandro's whole body hadn't deteriorated from muscle atrophy, or developed any (visible) burn scars from his stint in the Hot Sauce. Of course, as far as burn scars go, unless they're significantly deep they do tend to fade into near-invisibility over time. That, paired with the ~magical healing properties~ of his confinement, likely resulted in his lava burns scarring over into insignificance.

Then again, I once again have to take cartoon logic into account - the show itself likely just didn't consider the semi-realistic consequences of a year of entrapment, and wanted Alejandro to be near-enough the same character he was at the end of World Tour before the consequences™.

The main point here is this; Alejandro doesn't seem to remember the majority of his injuries following the volcano eruption in the World Tour finale, or if he does he's had a year of semi-conciousness to work through his thoughts and feelings on the matter, and as a result he doesn't seem to carry any (reasonable) trauma regarding lava, volcanoes, or other related stimuli.

He does, however, retain some "quirks" from his time in the machine.

Number five; an overview.

Alejandro comes out of the Drama Machine with a surprisingly little amount of visible trauma, both in terms of physical damage/scarring and observable mental changes.

He developed a very minor case of agoraphobia, spurned on by him becoming accustomed to existing in a very small, very cramped space, but otherwise attunes himself to the outside world incredibly fast.

Is this probably related to his social training, as a diplomat's son, and his heavy reliance on a "suave and charming" persona. He's likely battling with a lot of internal issues throughout the season, but squahing down his inner turmoil under his determination to win, which explains how/why he falls so easily into his scheming mindset - it, in and of itself, is a coping mechanism, though not a very healthy one.

*The paralysis of his legs was in all likelihood genuine, and a result of poor circulatory issues and minor muscular atrophy, which was almost immediately treated by the masseuse intern after the first challenge. Realistically (and how many times have I said that word) he'd have some lasting weakness in his legs, and maybe require the use of a mobility aid and/or physiotherapy. This is not the case, because... Total Drama.

There are subtle signs of the mental impact of his imprisonment, mostly in his immediate attachment to Heather (despite her taking away his reproduction privileges the last time they spoke, and her being Heather) and his innate need to prove himself as useful/capable despite his gameplan riding on him appearing pitiable and unthreatening (due to his "sleepy legs"). He's so starved for social interaction and validation that his actions are directly contradictory to his gameplans.

Though in the case of his Heather attachment, he could just be like that. He was also fairly infatuated with her in the latter half of World Tour, and the pineapple scene speaks for itself.

In conclusion; Alejandro is either completely goated and (for the most part) just shrugged off the trauma of being trapped in a tiny box for a year, or he was already so traumatised that the imprisonment was just another needle in his haystack of turmoil.

[mewtwo24]

You know reading vol 5 of mdzs before all the rest (don't ask me why I'm a clown and there were Circumstances) has to be the craziest experience of my life. Because it took all of ten minutes of wwx talking to literally hit me so hard in the gut I had to sit down and listen to really loud music for a while to calm down.

Who needs therapy when mxtx is alive and writing, I guess????? 🤡

Can't wait to get to the actual tragic parts I just know I'm gonna be that "help" frog phone meme

[quietwingsinthesky]

watching taxi driver but what i am actually seeing is the elaborate alternate version im constructing in my head where lucifer has to escort sam through hell in order to save bela, who didn't deserve the fate she got, and sam is so filled with hope that he can right this wrong and complete the trial and then when they get there she's a demon <3

[deputy-buck]

Makhachev vs. Moises 7/17/21

[simonsrileyhusband]

simon and reader who has a hard time sleeping (nsfw):

simon wakes up when he hears you turning around, slipping away from his arms.

"go back to sleep love..." he mumbles, his voice deeper than usual, big hands reaching out for your waist, pulling you into his arms again.

"i can't..." you whisper, turning around and burying your face in his chest, a bit sad that you woke him up.

simon knows the drill, he has done this countless times before and he will gladly do it over and over again.

gently, he turns around so your back lays kn the bed, his bulky arms keeping you caged under him. "i'll take care of that lovie, don't worry"

and that night can go different ways, simon pounding you until you are tired, simon esting you out until you pass out, simon using his fingers as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

the list goes on, but when he is done, you are sleeping soundly in his arms, inner thighs soaked, a pretty blush on your cheeks and a soft smile on your lips.

[lxnarphase]

can i get a uhhhhh smut where reader wont stop running from tojis dick and he has to manhandle them into being still :3 !!!

━━ ❝ take it...real slow ❞

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, dirty talk, rough sex, husband!toji, toji being whipped for his wife, toji being super sweet but filthy at the time same, toji calls you 'ma' and 'mama'

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : i love love looove the 'don't run away from it' with toji, i have to fight the urge from including it in every single work of mine ❤︎ but have a little blurbie of toji being a big bully that loves his wife who swears she can take the dick as i try to get back into the flow of writing !!

f. toji knows it's big, he knows it so well. he takes him time to prep you each and every time, his thick fingers rubbing slow circles into your clit to build you pleasure, getting you nice and wet. he loves when you keen his name when he slips them inside. groaning when you gush on his fingers.

"fuck, baby, you're drippin'," he murmurs, mouthing at your neck. "all hot and sticky just for me? tsk...had you like this all day, yeah?" when you nod, he just chuckles, kissing right behind your ear. poor thing, having to work all day with your pretty cunt dripping like this. but he knew it was his fault, having woken you up with his mouth glued to your pussy. the feeling of his tongue running through your folds. but of course, he didn't let you cum, no, toji wanted you to be needy for him until you came home.

"you're doin' so good for me, mama. gonna be a good wifey for me and let me give you what you need?"

leaning over you, toji cages you in with his arms, waiting for you to focus on him. "look at me, doll," he gently commands. his hand cups your cheek, giving soft little slaps that have you giggling as you turn to nip at his fingers. "there she is," he so so sweetly coos at you, but that smirk he gives you is mean. "such a pretty little thing, aren't ya?"

pushing up one of your thighs, toji rubs the swollen head of his thick cock against your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. you look so pretty, so cute, all his...but he knows what's going to happen the second he presses into you, and the thought makes him throb. "jus' relax, mama, 'm gonna make it good for you," he hums, pushing his tip into your cunt.

as he pushes deeper, he leans closer to whisper to you, his breathe hot against your ear. "you gonna run from it again, baby? like you always do? or you gonna be good for me this time?" you swear up and down you don't run away, that you take it because you love it, glaring up at him but that defiant look is wiped off your face the instant he feels that you've completely relaxed, sliding aaaall the way in.

"tojiiiiii, y-you can't just push, mn, in like that...you're so mean!"

"mm...nuh uh," he teases, an almost evil grin on his face as you gaped at his childish response. toji can feel that you need him, he knows you just desperately need to be fucked into the mattress...so of course he's gonna give his pretty wife just what she needs.

his hands hold you in place as he thrusts into you with force, a predatory glint in his eyes as he coos your name. he just started and your eyes are already starting to roll back, crying out his name as thanks for finally, finally fucking you like you needed it. each time he pressed in you could feel his hot tip smushing against your cervix.

"always sayin' 'it's too much, it's too much,' but look at you," he mocks, not allowing you to wiggle up the bed and away from him. no, no, you need this, you need it so bad, the way your pussy is sucking him in, milking his cock. this was the best away to make you take it, to have you trapped under him unable to move away from his fat cock abusing your insides.

"nothin' 's too good for ya, mama, nah, you deserve every. fuckin'. inch."

even thought he's got you trapped like this, you still start to move, trying to angle your hips away from each hard thrust into you. "doll," he growls, grabbing your chin to make you look at him. he was actually starting to get sick of it...why wouldn't you be good and take it for him? did you need him to be mean?

"it's like you want me to fuckin' manhandle you t'' stay still. fuckin' slut needs her husband to treat her like a toy?"

one look into your eyes made toji snap. all he could see was that silent answer of 'yes' in your eyes.

"oh. oh. oh, you do, you do, don't you? yeah? ohhh, baby girl, you poor poor thing, just needed your big bad toji t' use you like a fleshlight," he groans, coming down to support himself on his forearms as he began to pound into your messy cunt, laughing breathlessly when you practically sobbed.

"'m not lettin' you run away, mama," toji grunts, his eyes squeezed shut. "mmph, i'm gonna pump this little pussy full of my cum, gonna mark up those insides. yeah, you want that? huh? ooh, i know ya do, pretty thing."

"h-hu-ooh, babyy," you whine, eyes barely focusing on his face. your hands are gripping his hair and you realize now you really can't move away. his subtle repositioning has your hips a little off the bed. he's so deep, he's stretching you do good, you don't know why you'd wanna run away from it, you really don't, it's just too good, you feel like your going to explode--

"look at you now, mama," he praises. "fuck, can't run from it anymore? c'mon, doll, i'm gonna teach you t' take it. mmh, not lettin' you run anymore, gonna teach this pussy t' take every thing i give t' it, baby girl, 'm done lettin' you get away from me."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[rafey-baby]

cw: bf!rafe being big and comforting, cockwarming, use of daddy

wc: 480

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

Bf!Rafe making reader feel better after a particularly long day since she’s feeling emotional and sensitive because life is so hard and sometimes she's just so hopeless feeling like a complete failure and like she can't do anything right.

“Rafe, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel so fucking miserable sometimes. And I’m just so tired all the time,” she sniffles into his chest.

“Shh, there’s nothing wrong with you, alright? Just feeling a little overwhelmed, yeah?” He’s murmuring softly in her hair as she sobs, crocodile tears soaking his shirt.

“You’re all good. I’m here, Sweetheart. It’s just me, Rafe, alright?" His gentle voice reassures her, making her nuzzle her face into the crease of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent.

"There you go, just let it out, I’ve got you,” he settles a warm palm on her back, drawing lazy circles and smoothing a warm hand over her thigh. Big strong arms cage her to his body and he just holds her as she weeps, all exhausted and forlorn.

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. Just needed a cry, hm?” His steady heartbeat and breathing is starting to calm her down some as she rests her head on his chest, listening. And when she stops crying for a bit he mumbles tenderly. “There we go, just needed your Daddy, yeah?” 

“Rafe…” she whines out, still so restless he’s not sure how to pacify her until he feels her rocking in his lap, mindlessly rutting against the bulge in his pants. Soon enough he’s hard because how is he meant to help it when she’s gazing up at him with tear soaked eyes and swollen lips? She just looks so pretty that he gets a desperate itch to squeeze her weakened form in his solid hands all over until she’s squealing, begging for him to stop with hearty giggles bubbling out of her throat.

"Don't worry that little head of yours so much, alright? Breaks m'heart. But I'll make it better for you," he mutters as he takes himself out; tucking his cock in her needy cunt, making her despondent crying come to a halt. He's always such a snug fit between her gummy walls and now he just stays there, stretching her out and making her feel so full.

And it works.

Her eyes cloud over some, erratic breathing evening out as she turns into something mellow, placid in his firm hold, making him smile. “That’s what you needed, huh? Just needed Daddy to stuff his cock in you, yeah?”

And she’s humming, whining, brain mushy as she wraps her hands around his sturdy abdomen and rests her head on his chest; his measured respiration and the steady beating of his heart soothing her, making her sleepy.

“There you go, Sweetheart. You’re all good. I’m right here, not going anywhere, alright?” he placates her as her eyes finally flutter shut.

[werecreature-addicted]

going to underground fighting rings not to place bets or to drown your sorrows in cheap booze and blood sport but because the werewolf who fights in the cage matches is so. fucking. hot. You're no better than a sad man in love with a stripper. but you come back every week, you sneak in after dark and stand in the jeering crowd looking up at the hulking monster and watch him fight. Sometimes you hope he'll look down and see you, most nights you're too embarrassed to show your face.

There's something about watching that werewolf tear into the other opponents that sets your blood on fire, the blood, the sweat, the way his lips curl back in a snarl when you're close enough to the cage you can hear him pant and growl, every punch he throws makes your knees weak. It's better than porn. you almost never make it through the entire match. Not when he's the one fighting at least. You watch the werewolf punch the other guy so hard he's lifted off the ground and your brain goes fuzzy picturing those big hands lifting you up by the hips, pinning you against the cold metal grate of the cage that surrounded the fighting ring, you picture him forcing your thighs apart with those scared hands of his and drop you down on his cock.

You push your way out of the crowd and to the dingy bathroom. You can't help it. You really can't. you lock yourself in one of the stalls and touch yourself, fingers quick and messy just trying to be quiet as you picture The fighter breaking your nose and licking up the blood. choking you with his big hands while he mounted you from behind on the dirty floor of the ring. One time you'd seen him bite another opponent and now the thought of him biting you like that, sinking those sharp teeth into the side of your neck or into your thigh was the only thing that could get you off. You thought about it now, feverishly touching yourself with one hand, the other covering your mouth, still, little whimpers of pleasure escape you.

You need to be more careful, more people are coming in and out of the bathroom, the fight must be over. someone's going to get pissed that you're taking so long soon. You're surprised when a half-hard cock pokes through the glory hole an inch in front of your face. You jump. In all your time masturbating in this shit-hole bathroom, you'd never noticed the hole in the side of the stall wall.

You stare at the cock for a second, hand still in between your legs. it's too big to be human, and the half-swollen knot throbbing at the base makes you think of your fighter, your werewolf.

"I know you're in there, i can fucking smell you, just like i can smell you getting horny in the crowd, fucking surprised you don't leave a puddle on the floor slut." he snarls and bangs on the side of the stall.

"Go on take what you want, suck this dirty cock you've been drooling over," You lean in and smell him, it's almost enough to make you cum right there. You should do what he wants, blow him like a good whore, but you are so so bad at denying yourself. Instead, you run your tongue over his balls, whimpering at the taste, you're drunk off of the musk of him, and the low groan he lets out is almost enough to make you cum right there. Eventually, though you move your mouth up, kissing and licking his shaft, and take the tip of the werewolf's cock into your mouth. He wastes no time thrusting into you, fucking your face. You let him, really it's the least you can do for the champion.

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. I'm currently obsessed with the thought of Bucky making his pretty girl take it. I'm talking him keeping you caged under him with your legs wrapped around his waist while his arm are wrapped tightly around your body. This type of energy comes out when he's pissed. Stressed. Jealous. He's going to remind you exactly who you belong to and my favourite thing about this is imagine you didn't even know what happened. Maybe he overheard some agents talking about how irresistible you are. So cute and pretty and they'd give anything to-

Nope. The thought alone of anytone touching what's his has him storming off, hauling you over to mark you in the most primal way possible. Remind everyone who you belong to. He plucks you up from whatever you're doing and carries you over his shoulder like a beast; you're naked on his bed seconds later. He plows into you, hips slamming his cock into your very soaked cunt, unapologetically fucking you with the deepest moans. He sounds so feral. He is feral.

"Feels-so-good, such a good girl, letting me put my big dick in you"

Those grunts and groans he lets out show just how selfish he's being because he's focused on how fucking good you're making his dick feel. You're so soft but you make his cock so hard. You're such an angel for him, spreading your legs for him the second he set you down. He'd been torn between wanting to ravish you immediately or taking a second to throw his clothes off. He decides he needs you to fucking smell like him when this is all over, have every bit of his scent covering your skin. He wants to feel every bit of you all over him.

No one else would ever get to have you like this. Feel your naked breasts on their chest. Feel your soft tummy press against theirs. Feel the plushness of your thighs squeezing their waist. Feel your silky walls squeeze and milk their cocks till they're all soft and sensitive.

They'd hear you though.

They'd hear every moan and Bucky would make sure of that.

"Whose cock is making you scream baby, tell me" He growls, your combined arousal making a mess on the bed.

"Y-OURS-" You hiccup, choking back a sob as he snakes his had to wrap around your throat. Damn right. His fucking cock. His dick in your pussy. Not the stupid little boys who think they have a chance to even breathe the same air. His pretty, pink, fat fucking cock destroying you to his heart's content, stretching you open as much as he wants. "J-JAMES"

"That's right, say my name baby, say the name of your man who fucks you this good, let everyone hear" He's already turned off all the sound proofing and maybe he left his door a crack open. Maybe.

"Jaamesss" You sound so gone, cockdrunk over the way the spongy head of his dick kisses that sensitive spot that makes you squirt cream with each of his thrusts. "Don't st-stop, please-fuck-me-Jamie" Your voices slurs and turns into a whine as your eyes roll back. For such a sweet princess, you sound like an absolute slut when he's inside you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Mhphhm, sound so pretty, gonna make me blow, let me empty my balls in you" He starts to fuck you faster causing the headboard to shake, the whole bed creaking with his movements. "M'gonna cum angel-oh shittt-"

He nearly whimpers when he feels your doe eyes looking up at him with your ankles locked around his waist; he knows exactly what that means.

"You want it inside you huh, want my cum in you baby, s'that it?"

"Want-it-please, can't hold it" you cling onto him tighter and Bucky can't last any longer.

"Cum with me, together, c'mon angel, cum with me, yes, fuck yes, can feel you-fuck-" He begs, needing those little boys who spoke about you to hear exactly what they're missing out on, "OH GOD, FUCKKK" He doesn't hold back as he gives into his orgasm, your name dripping of his lips while you sob and squeal.

I want him to give you the softest aftercare. Tell you what a good girl you were for him. How much he loves and adores you, how special you are to him.

I want him to have the most smug expression on his face when he goes back down. He's such a little shit. He passes by a cackling Tony and a wheezing Sam. Not one agent dares look him in the eye. Steve may be blushing but he'll give credit where credit is due. His best friend sent a very clear message. Bucky is a possessive, loving, horny little shit and I need it.

Need it now.

[kaciidubs]

Wait Your Turn

❣ Summary: If you're going to break the rules, then you have to face the consequences of your actions. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 5.7k ❣ Warnings: Poly! OT8 x Reader, smut, humor, comfort, fluff, Dom/Sub dynamics, bondage, edging, spit roasting, bukkake, creampie(s), cum play, slight spit play, dacryphilia, choking, degradation, implied after care ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Usual first name + pet name references for the members, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny, Pup, Bub, Kitten, Muse, Jagi[ya], Sunshine, Noona, probably the filthiest thing I've written so far, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Being in a polyamorous relationship with one of the busiest idol groups meant having to apply schedules to the most mundane parts of your life; which dorm you stay at for the week, who wants to go on solo dates and who wants to do group dates, and most importantly, who's the next to get laid by you and when.

Granted, these types of things are only applied when they're in the midst of a comeback - making sure their work life doesn't interfere with your relationship - but when the dreadful time does come around, the struggle truly begins.

Each of your boys were different in terms of their needs, so the schedule was set to alternate between the needier members having more frequent interactions with you throughout the week while the more independent members cashed their time during off days or weekends.

It was a strange system to adapt to, but you all made it work for the length of the comebacks - though, that doesn't mean it always held up. Some of the boys cracked, some deciding to share their time with you and another boy while others asked for trades in their time slots to see you sooner, but they always did their best not to alter the schedule too much.

That is, until week two came and you were begged for a cuddle session from a certain Aussie leader - Changbin agreeing to save his night for another day since Chris only went out of turn when he was really in his head about something.

You slipped into his room easily, getting bathed in the soft purple lighting of his room as you shut the door behind you. "You okay, Channie?"

He turned onto his side, putting his phone on the small table next to his bed before reaching his hand out, "Yeah, just need you in my arms, love."

Your heart fluttered, obliging his request with a smile as you happily rush to his bed, letting him pull you under the blanket and into his warmth - your darling personal heater who rarely wore anything more than boxer briefs to bed.

It doesn't take long until you're settled underneath him, caged between his arms while his slim hips keeps your legs separated, soft lips pressing to your own with barely hidden intent.

"Christopher," you hum against his lips, pulling away just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, "what are you up to, mister?"

"Need you," he breathed softly, pecking your lips once again before kissing just under your jaw, "need you so bad, baby."

A soft moan floated past your lips as he nipped at your sweet spot, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair, "You know it's not your night, baby - we can't."

"No one needs to know, yeah?" His lips continued down, wet kisses left in his wake until he moved back up to your face, eyes lidded and fogged over with lust. "It's just one night, princess, please." Pressing his body against yours, he ground his hips, further enticing you with the feeling of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. "Please, princess, just for daddy?"

In all honesty, you should've stuck to the rules, you should've been the voice of reason, but then his lips were on yours again and all thoughts of rationality went out the window.

When he felt you melt into the kiss he sighed a breath of relief, pulling away to sit himself up on his knees, "I'll do all the work, baby, alright? I just need you to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet - we don't want to get caught, do we?"

You shook your head softly, shamelessly checking out his chest under the LED lights, "No, daddy - I'll be quiet."

His right hand caught your chin, bringing your gaze back to his with a knowing smirk, "Good girl."

With that, your fate was sealed with the tangling of limbs, breathless sighs of names, and muffled moans of pleasure.

It wasn't until the next morning that you realized the repercussions of your shared decision, waking up to an empty bed and a wall of texts waiting on your phone that sent chills down your spine.

My Loves - GC Min [Cat Daddy]🐈: Meeting at 3Racha + Artist dorm tonight Sun-Bok ☀️: Yep! Binnie Baby 💪🏻: 👍🏻 My Artist 💌: This'll be fun 🙄 Hannie Jisungie 💘: Do we have to?? I kinda had plans.. Bubs [SeungMongMong] 💕: Han. Read the room. Baby Bread 🍞❣️: 😭😭😭

Judging from the lack of reply from a certain leader, you already knew what the meeting was going to be about.

Wonderful.

"Do you know why we're gathered here today?"

You wanted to coo at how cute Felix's 'domineering' act was, but you chose to refrain as you sat next to Chris in chairs borrowed from the dining room.

"Um... No?"

Minho clicked his tongue, sharp eyes narrowing in an expression you were all too familiar with, "Are you sure about that, Kitten?"

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you immediately knew that playing innocent was not in your favor.

"Chan?" He now challenged the eldest, the fire in his eyes unwavering.

The black haired man timidly shook his head, not even daring to open his mouth - he was a terrible liar, and everyone knew that.

"Alright, so we're playing this game." Shrugging dismissively, he turned his attention to Hyunjin and gave him a nod.

Without missing a beat, Hyunjin took out his phone and swiped across the screen before putting it down on the coffee table for everyone to witness what would happen next.

You froze at the sound playing from Hyunjin's phone, eyes snapping to Chris as his feigned look of confusion fell to sheepish embarrassment.

Floating through the small speaker were your moans, his moans, and the faint thumping of the bed you had warned him about before the entire scenario started.

"You recorded us?!" Even though he tried to save face, the blush tinting his ears and cheeks was more than a dead giveaway that you'd been caught red handed.

"You fucked her when it wasn't even your turn!" Hyunjin argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You were supposed to be asleep!"

"First of all, I can stay up late as long as I want, and second of all, you two aren't the quietest of fucks in this house!"

"We share a wall and I slept through all of that?!" Jisung suddenly piped up, gesturing wildly to the phone on the table, "Why didn't you wake me up?!"

"I sense we're missing the point here..." Jeongin mumbled, snatching Hyunjin's phone from the table to pause the tantalizing audio.

"Innie's right! The point is," Changbin pointed a finger at their leader, "you tricked my bunny into letting you hit!"

Seungmin scoffed, "Tricked is a strong accusation, your 'bunny' isn't as innocent as she seems, isn't that right, pup?"

As much as you wanted to speak up in defense of yourself, they were completely right; you were in the wrong, no matter how it started and how rewarding the act was, you had broken one of the rules explicitly set for comeback season.

"This isn't all sunshine's fault," Felix butted in, quieting the bickering happening around him, "but it isn't all Chan's fault either - they both did it, so they both need to be punished, right? That's what we normally do when rules are broken, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Minho purred, running a hand through Felix's blond hair in appreciation, "and lucky for you two, we already thought of a punishment."

A chill ran down your spine and you stiffened under his mischievous gaze, noticing Chris opening his mouth to speak from your peripheral but closed it once more.

He may have been their leader at work, but here they were all partners, and the eldest card was virtually useless.

Looking between the two of you, a smug smirk graced Minho's lips as he nodded, "No objections? Good." Turning his gaze to you, he nodded his head, "Clothes off, kitten."

Apparently, the agreed upon punishment must've been a pact for pure torture for you and Chris; the eldest remaining in the same dining chair he sat in during the meeting, wearing only his boxer briefs with his wrists tied behind his back as part of his personal punishment.

You, however, seemed to get the brunt of the arrangement, laid naked on a blanket spread out over the area rug, a few decorative pillows spread around in case you needed the extra support.

Chris wasn't allowed to touch you or himself, nor was he allowed to cum during any point of the punishment; whereas you were allowed to touch anyone but Chris, and you weren't allowed to cum while the remaining members used their designated day to fuck you out of schedule - just like their wise leader and boyfriend had done the night before.

After some thorough - and quite unfair - prep by Jisung that left your pussy covered in spit and glistening for all of the boys to pay witness, Jeongin shuffled his way between your legs.

"Hi, Noona."

You did your best not to giggle at how causal he was, despite being stark naked and fisting his dick for what was to come next. "Hi, Innie."

"I still think it isn't fair you let Channie Hyung break the rules like that," he pouted, shuffling closer to rub his tip against your awaiting folds, drawing a shivering breath from you in the process.

"I-I know, I'm so-rry!" The feeling of his cock sliding past your walls had your back arching slightly, a low moan floating past your lips as he steadily filled you to the hilt.

He groaned softly, hands anchoring at your hips as he began to thrust into you without abandon, eyes locked onto where you were connected as his tongue just barely poked between his lips.

Your peace of getting used to his fast pace was interrupted with a shadow being cast over your face, the sight of Changbin shuffling into view with his signature smirk curving his lips.

"You don't mind taking two at once, do you, bunny?" He hummed, tapping the head of his dick against your bottom lip for emphasis.

A pitiful whimper escaped you, eyebrows sloping as realization quickly dawned on you - if he was using your mouth, then that meant you wouldn't get to feel that delicious stretch you'd been craving for the past week, yet another punishment.

"C'mon, little bunny, open up for me."

Doing as you were told, you parted your lips to welcome his thick tip, dropping your jaw to accompany the rest of his thick length to slip into your mouth and press against the back of your throat.

He rocked his hips in an opposing rhythm to Jeongin's powerful thrusts, the force simply jolting you into Changbin's dick and helping him fuck your mouth in return.

Any sound you made was turned into vibrations that shot up his spine, while panted moans and grunted breaths flowed freely from them, mingling with the distant sounds of your other boyfriends pleasuring themselves on the side as they waited for their turn.

"Look at you taking Innie so well, gonna make him come, bunny? Make him fill that needy pussy of yours?" The third eldest goaded, his hand sliding down to grope at your breast, running his thumb over your budding nipple.

Jeongin grunted, head bowed with focus as he drove into you with one desire and one only - to come.

You tried to hum out a reply, nodding your head in hopes that it would get noticed through the bobbing of your head until an increase of speed had your eyes rolling in your head.

"I-I'm gonna come, Noona- Oh, fuck-"

Just as you were ready to feel the signature warmth filling you, the presence of him inside of you disappeared and your eyes shot open to see him jacking himself off above you. Within a few passes of his fist, ropes of cum decorated your stomach, starting just above your naval and ending near your breasts.

It was almost as if he could sense your disappointment as he shot you a cocky smirk, "Oh - did you want me to finish inside? Sorry, Noona, I got to pick since it was my turn."

With a tap to your cheek, Changbin brought your attention back to him, "Don't get too upset, you still have five more dicks to go, bunny."

He was right - your punishment was far from over, and with the needy flutters of your pussy, you knew the requirement of not coming would be an uphill battle.

So, with renowned vigor, you did your best to focus on giving the best head you could manage in this position, laving your tongue against the smooth skin of his dick while trying not to mind the saliva that trailed down your cheek.

In the meantime, Chris wasn't faring too well in his seat, his hard on straining in his boxer briefs and begging for some form of attention from anyone in the room - the subtle shifting doing next to nothing to satisfy the pressure he craved.

He watched as Hyunjin guided Seungmin's mouth up and down his cock, a hand tangled in the long golden tresses of the younger's hair while the other half of his attention was focused on slow makeout session Felix had drawn him into; plump lips working against the smaller pair in a way that couldn't be described as anything other than beautiful.

"IN-ah," Minho called out, almost looking completely unphased by the drag of Jisung's lips against the column of his neck if it weren't for the way his hands gripped his slim waist. "Why don't you make sure Hyung doesn't get too bored over there?"

Fuck.

Jeongin gave a dutiful nod as he crawled his way over to the eldest, fox-like eyes sparkling with a glee that made his stomach flip. "Channie Hyung."

"Jeongin."

He pouted at the use of his name, no glittering nickname or endearing title following, "Don't be like that! You know why we're doing this - you'd do the same if it was one of us!"

Of course, he was right, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to save as much of his pride as he could, not with the way he could feel his sanity slipping as the two-toned blond settled between his spread legs.

"Alright, alright, 'm sorry," relaxing against the chair, he gave a small smile toward the youngest, "hi, baby boy."

Preening with happiness, Jeongin pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh that nearly had him jolting out of the chair, a delighted laugh floating past those daring lips.

"You know... You didn't have to try to keep it a secret," he hummed, planting another kiss higher up the smooth plane of skin, "there's nothing wrong with needing Noona sooner than us, unless..." Sharp eyes looked up at him, a dark glint sending a spark of electricity down the eldest's spine, "You wanted to see what would happen if we found out - is that it, Hyung?"

Chris opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a guttural groan escaping Changbin, pulling his attention toward the main event happening in the middle of the living room.

The buff man shivered, hissing sharply as he pulled his softening dick from your mouth, "Show Binnie, bunny."

You opened your mouth immediately, showing the mess of cum and saliva pooling your tongue.

"Good girl, go on and swallow."

Your puffy lips closed for a moment before parting again to show your now empty mouth, void of any remnants of his seed; as a reward, Changbin bent down and pressed his lips to your forehead.

Next in the rotation was Seungmin, Felix, and Hyunjin - taking on a position that seemed to be coordinated in advance; Seungmin taking post between your legs, Felix straddling your torso with his hands already groping your chest, while Hyunjin lingered beside you.

"Jeongin, did you really have to leave a mess behind?" Seungmin groaned as he dragged his thumb through a still wet line of cum, tapping Felix's cheek with his index.

Following his instincts, Felix turned his head and instantly took his thumb into his mouth, and you watched with lust fogged eyes as he sucked it clean.

"Don't act like you weren't going to do the same thing." The youngest deadpanned, shooting the singer a glare, "You're just mad I did it first."

Deciding to ignore that statement, the second youngest slipped his thumb from Felix's soft lips and brought it down toward your awaiting pussy, putting slight pressure on your neglected clit.

You jolted at the sudden touch, whining pitifully, "Minnie, please, don't tease me."

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands, bub."

Despite his snarky reply, you could feel the head of his dick nudge against your slick entrance, all the while Felix was happily enjoying his time with your breasts; gently kneading the mounds and tweaking your nipples with subtle pinches here and there.

"Come here, my angel." Hyunjin murmured softly, cupping the freckled blond's face before pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

You watched helplessly, forced to be a spectator of the pleasure happening around you; the show above you, the sounds of Jisung's unabashed whimpers from the couch, and the grunted gasps of Chris from whatever Jeongin and Changbin had resorted to doing to him.

When the duo pulled away, Felix leaned over to let a stream of spit drip onto his twitching cock and the valley of your boobs, the excitement palpable from the way he practically vibrated above you.

Without any further preparation, he pressed your breasts together to sandwich his cock and rocked his hips forward, a heavenly groan floating past his lips.

At the same time, Seungmin slipped past your walls with little resistance, sighing happily at the warmth of your pussy finally enveloping him.

Your hands found Felix's thighs, squeezing the flexed muscles as he fucked your breasts at a steady pace - meanwhile, Seungmin set his own rhythm of deep and hard thrusts, practically punching moans out of your throat with each slap of his thighs against the back of your own.

"Sunshine, you feel so good," Felix groaned, eyes flicking between your face and the way the pink head of his dick peeked out from between your boobs on each inward thrust.

"Of course she'd feel good," Seungmin scoffed, his hands gripping the backs of your knees for leverage, "the little slut was made for us, isn't that right, pup?"

You preened at his words, tossing your head back with an unabashed moan.

"So shameless, my muse," Hyunjin smirked, watching you lovingly as he lazily fisted his spit-slicked cock. "You love being used like this by us - but, then again, we love getting to use you, too."

Whining up at him, your dazed eyes glanced down at his length and your lips parted - an offering.

"Nuh uh, beauty, I'm waiting for that sweet pussy of yours."

The clench your walls gave earned you a moan from the singer inside of you, his grip on your legs tightening slightly, "Fuck, stop it, pup - feels too fucking good."

Felix whined, tossing his head back with a shivering breath, "W-What's she feel like, Minnie?"

"Wet, warm, t-tight," a low grunt fell from his lips, "I can tell she's getting close - you know, when her pussy f-flutters-"

"-Y-Yeah, oh, fuck- I'm close." The freckled boy's thrusts quickly began to falter, dissolving into him shallowly humping your breasts.

Hyunjin watched as both boys chased their orgasms, your breathless moans floating through the air like a song while your nails scratched angry red lines down Felix's slim thighs.

"A-Ah, fuck, f-fuck-" Seungmin was the first to topple over the edge, pulling out just as he began to come, the hot release adding to the partially dried mess left behind from his boyfriend before.

With a shaky rut of his hips, Felix came with a short cry of your name, his cum painting your neck and mixing with the mess of saliva and precum in your cleavage.

Dropping your legs unceremoniously, Seungmin shuffled from between your legs to sit breathlessly at your side; Felix managing to shakily slide himself off of your torso and into the former's arms.

"Oh, you poor beauty," Hyunjin cooed, taking in your utterly disheveled form as he filled in the newly freed space, "they made you so dirty, didn't they?"

You jolted at the feeling of his hand ghosting your side, your abdomen twisting so hard you nearly folded over.

"H-Hyune, can I come this time? Please, please, I-I need to, i-it's too much!"

"You're begging the wrong person, my muse." He used his right index to drag through the mess at your sternum and down to the cum coating your stomach, "I can't help you, here." Popping his finger into his mouth, a shivering breath ran through his body, eyelids fluttering before focusing his heated stare back onto you, "Don't worry, I'll be fast - two more after me and you'll be done."

Luckily for you, your orgasm had began to subside and you were barely affected by the graze of his fingertips down your hips and thighs, caressing your skin and massaging the tense muscles as he went.

Chris watched as Hyunjin slipped inside of you with little to no resistance, the sight of your cum stained body arching off of the floor making him strain against the rope keeping his hands behind his back.

"Wish that was you, huh?" Changbin taunted low in his ear, squeezing his shoulders before lightly massaging away the tenseness in his biceps, "Look at her, five dicks in and she's still taking everything we give her."

"Fuck."

Hyunjin had your legs in the air, calves resting against his right shoulder to make the squeeze even tighter, making each drag of his cock that much more devilish for you.

That should be him making you moan like that, he should be the one feeling the squeeze of your pussy around his dick, not the stupid confines of his underwear.

He felt like he was going crazy, and it didn't help with Jeongin's intermittent touches to his restrained bulge that kept him hyper aware of everything happening in front of him.

Your moans grew in pitch, one hand gripping onto the artist's forearm while the other gripped a decorative pillow by your head for further support.

"Oh, god - I c-can't- I-"

"Hold it, kitten." Minho spoke up from his position on the couch, "You have two more to go for your punishment - you don't want to make it worse, do you?"

"N-No, but- Ah!" Your train of thought escaped you as the lithe dancer slightly leaned forward, pushing your legs closer to your torso and brushing against your g-spot in an entirely new angle that had you seeing stars.

"You can do it, my love," Hyunjin panted breathlessly, a fine sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on his skin, "g-gonna fill you up for doing such a good job for us, okay?"

There weren't any words you could find to somehow put together a coherent sentence, so you simply nodded with hiccuped breaths - doing your best not to focus on the burning desire in your abdomen.

It only took a few more strokes until he stilled with a gasp, broken moans happening in time with the twitching of his length, filling your cunt with every last drop of his load.

However, the turnaround this time was faster than you'd expected; Hyunjin pulling out with a still throbbing dick, while the sound of scrambling reached your ears before a new presence filled the void.

"Jagi."

Your heart clenched, blinking up at the man with a desperate gaze, "Sungie, please - I-I can't take anymore."

You were overly aware of the warm sensation of Hyunjin's cum dripping down the curve of your ass and undoubtedly staining the blanket beneath you, and you were beginning to feel tacky from the mix of cum and spit drying on your skin.

"I know, I know, but you're so close, Jagi - you can do it for us, right? Take your punishment like a good girl?"

The feeling of him pushing your legs up and out had you sobbing out a breath, everything from your waist down sore and crying for a break.

Jisung rubbed the leaky tip of his cock against your puffy clit, biting his lip as more cum seemed to endlessly dribble out of you, "Shit, he really filled you, hm?"

Then, just as his boyfriends before, he angled his hips and sunk into your sensitive cunt, your moans mixing together in a harmony.

"S-So good - god, I wish I could stay in this pussy." He groaned, leaning forward to hover over you - keeping your legs hooked on the outside of his arms - before shallowly thrusting into you.

The sloppy sounds of skin against skin and the mixture of cum and your arousal filled the living room as everyone watched on.

"Fuck... I wanna go again," Felix whined, doe eyes trained on where you and Jisung were connected.

Seungmin laughed, squeezing his arms around him, "Yeah? I bet Chan wishes he could go at all."

This comment brought each of their attentions to the man in mention, and the sight was one to be memorized for the time to come.

A light sheen of sweat shined across his forehead and chest, shallow breaths expanding his torso and exposing the slight definition of abs with each exhale, and thick thighs spread to display the bulge stretching the light grey fabric of his boxer briefs - a glaringly obvious stain of precum in the form of dark grey spread around the head of his hidden cock and along the length, defining it more.

"Holy shit, Chan - you're turned on this much?" Hyunjin took in the view with amused eyes, though the faint swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip hadn't gone unnoticed.

The eldest whined, an embarrassed blush adding to the flush of arousal on his face, "It doesn't help that these two," he nodded his head between Jeongin and Changbin, "have been over here touching me the whole time, and- fuck, watching everyone take turns with her, how could I not get turned on?"

"Channie Hyung, you look like you're one breeze away from coming." Jeongin giggled as he pressed his index finger against the outline of his tip, pulling it away to see a faint string of precum follow suit.

"He shouldn't." Minho interjected, watching the small group from the couch, "And you better not make him come either, unless you'd like to be added to the punishment list, too."

Another signature whine fell from Felix as he broke his focused stare to look at the black haired man, "Can we at least see him? Please, Hyung?"

There was a moment of silence - well, as silent as it could be with your and Jisung's moans and whimpers still dancing through the air - before he nodded his head.

"Fine, go ahead."

It definitely wasn't a three person job, but when Felix sprung into action with Jeongin, Seungmin wasn't about to be left out of the reveal - so, with three sets of hands and the help of Chris lifting his hips, they managed to toss away his one and only clothing item.

"Holy fuck, thank you," he groaned, his head falling back and lightly knocking against the backrest of the chair; a wave of goosebumps decorating his skin at the temperature shift and change in pressure.

The sudden sound of Jisung cursing called their attention like a moth to a flame, eyes snapping to see the rapper frantically fucking into you with reckless abandon.

Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you gripped his hair, "Please, please, please, I-I can't- j-just come already, Sungie!"

It wasn't clear if it was the tug on his scalp or your command that had him coming, but he was suddenly shaking above you with breathless whines, fucking his load into you with hard, shallow ruts.

He dipped his head to catch your lips in a less than coordinated kiss, a dazed smile finding its way to his face, "Last one, Jagi."

Sniffling up at him, a harsh realization hit you like a freight train - Minho was the last one to go.

Minho, the one who enjoyed seeing you at your wits end, wearing you down until you were nothing but his brainless little kitten - the one who laughed in the face of your pleas and begs, the one who would catch your tears onto his fingers and make you choke on the same digits.

As Jisung slipped away to join the rest of the spectators, you turned your head to see Minho unmoving from his seat, staring at you with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Hands and knees, kitten."

You were shocked to find out that you still had power left in you to lift your body from the floor, much less manage to turn yourself onto your aching legs before dipping into an arch you'd perfected in your time with them - ignoring the feeling of now cold cum meeting the fluffy warmth of the blanket where you once laid.

It wasn't long until you felt a large hand grip the swell of your ass before landing a hard slap against the cheek making you scream out a moan.

"What did we learn?" He hummed nonchalantly, spreading your ass cheeks to see the newest mess of cum ooze toward your clit.

"I-I won't k-keep secrets," you sobbed, the pulse of your pussy making your toes curl, "if s-someone wants to skip ahead, w-we make sure everyone knows - P-Please, Min, I'm sorry!"

The only sign of acknowledgment he gave you was a clipped hum, sliding one hand to the base of your spine while the other wrapped around his dick, pumping once and tracing your messy cunt.

"Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, please, I've been good - I-I didn't come while the others fucked me, I-I let them use me, please let me come, Min!" Hiccuping a sob, your hands fisted the blanket as fresh tears streaked down your cheeks, "Please, please, please, it hurts - I can't keep holding it!"

The stretch of his dick past your sensitive walls had your mouth falling open in a silent moan, eyes rolling as your veins flowed with molten lava - overstimulation beginning to set in.

"Okay, kitten, you can come," he murmured softly, his hand sliding up your slightly sweaty back before wrapping around your neck, his body eclipsing yours as his lips hovered just above your ear, "but only when I say so."

He dragged his hips back before delivering a hard thrust, forcing a choked gasp past your lips as he began to practically fuck you through the floor - broken moans and cries flowing like water in a stream.

"Remember this the next time you decide to bend the rules," hissing in your ear, his hand tightened around your neck ever so slightly, "doesn't matter if its Yongbokkie's charms, Hannie's begs, Jeongin's sugar coated promises - none of them, if you try lying to cover for them, this is what'll happen."

"Minho, it wasn't all her fault." Chris gritted, watching the way you writhed in the second eldest's hold - his dick twitching painfully for any type of relief.

Minho scoffed out a laugh, finally directly regarding him ever since the entire punishment started, "When did I ever say it was, Chan?"

Without so much as a stutter in his rhythm, he sat up onto his knees, bringing your body with his and putting you on full display for the rest of your partners.

"This is a lesson to you, too; don't try to keep things from us - if you want to fuck our girl, you can fuck her." His thumb pressed against the underside of your jaw, tilting your head in their direction, "She obviously loves it, so why put yourself through the stress of making it a secret? You can see her just like this without keeping her orgasm from her, isn't that right, kitten?"

You mindlessly nodded as best as you could, drool trailing out of the corner of your mouth as you tried your best to keep your focus on the man restrained in the chair and not on the six other pairs of eyes taking you in.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, Sir!" You mewled, your hands holding tight to his arm to keep yourself tethered to your own body.

"Exactly, now, say sorry."

Chris bristled, "Minho, that's-"

"Felix."

On command, the boys occupying the space near Chris's legs moved to allowed Felix between them; Jeongin holding onto one thigh while Hyunjin held onto the other to further restrain him.

The second Felix's soft hands wrapped around the base of his dick, he had to bite his lip to silence the pure moan of pleasure that wanted to rise out of him - but, the instant his lips pressed against a vein, he nearly cried.

"Say sorry, kitten," Minho whispered in your ear, breaking through the fog that clouded your brain, "say sorry then you can come."

A sob wracked through your body as you nodded, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Innie and Binnie. I'm sorry L-Lix, Minnie, a-and Hyune. I-I'm sorry S-Sungie," nearly choking on your breath, you cried, "a-and I'm sorry Min, I'm so sorry, sir!"

He hummed, a smirk on his lips, "You're missing an apology, kitten."

The names replayed in your head like a tape on rewind, your brain desperately searching for who you might have missed until it finally clicked.

"C-Channie!"

The call of his name brought his eyes to yours, breathless groans escaping him as Felix licked at him as if he were a popsicle on a hot summer day.

You sniffled, blown out pupils swimming in the sea of your watery eyes, "I-I'm so sorry, Channie - I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!"

His heart clenched in time with his abdomen, hips canting as best they could with Hyunjin and Jeongin keeping him still. "I'm sorry, princess, you hear me? Fuck- I'm so sorry, baby."

"Good kitten," Minho grunted, his free hand wrapping around your hip to the apex of your thighs, his skilled fingers finding your clit easily, "now, come for us."

There wasn't a singular word to describe the sensations that shot through your veins; euphoria, relief, satisfaction, all you could feel was the wave of your orgasm crashing around you and drowning you in the muffled sounds of your own screams.

It didn't take long for Chris to fall victim to the sinful kitten licks of Felix's tongue, not when he had the view of you and Minho falling apart before his eyes.

"Oh fuck, f-fuck!"

Minho felt you slump in his arms, shallow breaths wracking your body through soft whimpers and hiccups. "You're alright, Jagiya, I've got you."

You slurred out soft words he couldn't catch, though the faintest "Sorry" caught his ear through the jumbled mess.

"No more of that, kitten, okay? I forgive you - We forgive you, just take some deep breaths with me, hm?"

Changbin appeared in front of you with two wet washcloths, and a t-shirt most likely from his closet, "Hey, bunny, it's Binnie - I'm gonna clean you off, okay?"

You hummed softly and he got to work wiping away the dried cum and spit that stained your skin, using the second cloth to get whatever remnants he missed before handing it off to Minho who cleaned away the cum covering your pussy.

Meanwhile, Felix and Jeongin were having a field day of cleaning up the cum that decorated Chris's skin from his own orgasm; Hyunjin lazily running his hands through Chris's hair while Seungmin untied his wrists.

"Hyung," Seungmin prodded, garnering Chris's tired, but attentive gaze, "we know you mean well, and you don't like imposing over us, or whatever," he took a short breath, fighting through the shyness, "but if you need something then say so - it's not like we haven't adjusted our schedules before."

"Yeah, Chan - we're not gonna fault you if you need your time sooner than us, we do it all the time." Hyunjin chimed in, playing with a small curl at the front of his head.

"Some of us more than others."

"You know, I can hear you," Felix deadpanned, looking up at the three of them while licking his lips, "and it's not like I don't offer sharing my time!"

Jeongin laughed, "I don't think they meant it as a bad thing, Lix, you're just the one who uses your time the most, even if you share it."

"Which is, again, not a bad thing," Jisung piped up with a chuckle, walking toward the group with a washcloth and a bottle of water for the eldest, "I think it's a tie between me and you, honestly."

Through the small talk and pre-shower wipe downs - some of the boys dispersing to shower while others searched for snacks - Chris noticed Minho bundling up the soiled blanket while Changbin cradled your sleeping form in his arms on the couch, murmuring soft words he wasn't able to catch.

"She's okay," Minho hummed, catching Chris's soft gaze, "we're going to let her rest for a minute, then when she wakes up Changbin's going to make sure she uses the bathroom before anything else."

He nodded understandingly, stretching his arms and rubbing absentmindedly at his wrists.

"You want to cuddle with her."

Chris jolted, eyes widening, "What? I didn't say-"

"You don't have to say it, you do it all the time after sex, Chan," he rolled his eyes, a loving smirk playing at his lips, "it's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just..." Sighing, Minho ventured over to the chair he still sat in, "Stop being shy about needing love, okay? This isn't about some stupid rule or 'fuck' schedule - you need to know that there isn't any shame in putting your needs first. You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need, Hyung."

Planting a quick kiss on his lips, Minho disappeared down the hall toward the laundry room, leaving Chris to settle with his words.

Nodding softly to himself, he made his way toward Changbin and swapped roles quietly, accepting a temple kiss from his fellow rapper before he headed into the kitchen to join whoever occupied the space.

Laying across the couch, Chris let you lay partially on top of him, his arm wrapped securely around your back while he used his other hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

Stirring slightly, you cracked an eye open and a tired smile twitched your lips, "Mm... I love you."

You have eight partners, which means you have eight people who are open and ready to give you the love you need.

He smiled at Minho's words, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, watching as you drifted back to sleep.

"I love you too, baby."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 it's so lonely in my mansion — jjk men ꒱

⟡ synopsis : you've always gotten whatever you've wanted, and it doesn't stop with the men you're interested in.

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, richgirl!reader, pool boy!gojo, private chef!suguru, ceo!nanami, age gap ( reader is in her early 20s, characters are in their mid 20s to early 30s ), fingering, missionary, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doggy

౨ৎ note : first multi-chara fic in a bit ! it's a bit shorter than what i usually write i think bc i needed to do a bio and cogsci lectures right after but please enjoy ! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

୨୧ SATORU GOJO

❥₊ ⊹ "o-oh fuck!" you moan out, your little frilly pink bathing suit was thrown somewhere haphazardly and your breasts press against the strong plains of satoru's bare chest.

you were staying at your parent's summer house in the hamptons, it's upkeep being done completely by the hired staff. but one member of them would always catch your attention.

snowy white hair with matching long lashes, bright cerulean eyes, and a body that's hard to take your mind off of.

satoru had recently been hired to take care your olympic-sized pool, and you certainly were not complaining at the free (not really free) show that came with him cleaning it.

every time you knew he was coming over to do some work, you'd be out sunbathing, doing pilates, or "homework" outside. and every time you'd ask him for help with something.

your sweet voice would call him over, pouty lips and big eyes stare up at him and ask him, ever so innocently, "satoruuu... can you help me with this?"

which led to where you were right now. after about 2 weeks of asking him for his help, you finally asked him if he could, "pretty please put sunscreen on my back?"

you were flipped over on your stomach, laying on a lounge chair with your skimpy pink bikini bottoms doing absolutely nothing to cover your ass and you swore you could hear him gulp loudly.

his large hands massaged the lotion into your back, getting lower and lower until he stopped right where the string of your bottoms were.

confused, you whip your head around to see why he stopped before turning back over to face him.

"fuck..." you heard him sigh under his breath before hastily pressing his lips onto yours. "you're such a fucking tease."

satoru wasted no time ripping your swimsuit off, one hand coming up to pinch one of your nipples while the other crept towards your aching heat.

his lithe fingers brush against your folds before his thumb finally presses on your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

satoru continues his ministrations on your pussy until he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, making him stop his movements. "is something wrong?" he asks, concern laced throughout his voice.

"no..." you mumble. "i just want you to fuck me now."

satoru lolls his head backwards and groans, "fuck, baby... you don't know what you do to me. don't know how long i've wanted to fuck you and this pretty pussy."

"then do it." you chide, getting impatient.

hurriedly, satoru removes his black board shorts, his cock springs free. the tip is flushed pink with precum leaking from it.

satoru's hands grab at the fat of your hips, pulling you down the lounge chair and making your ass flush against his his own hips.

you squirm against him, desperate for friction then whimpering when your clit bumps against the head of his dick.

"patient, princess." a small smirk pulls on his pink lips as he watches you pout up at him.

"put it in already." you groan, getting more and more impatient.

and though satoru does like how horny you are for him, he's almost sure that he's more turned on then you are. he swears he's never been this hard before.

he leans down, his arms caging you in as his cock sinks into you. "stop squeezing me... can hardly move." he moans.

"c-can't," you gasp, feeling him stretch your pussy. "you're s'big..."

your ears were ringing and stars blurred your vision, the way he was splitting you open was deliciously sinful.

satoru lets out a low moan before pulling out almost completely, only leaving the tip in before thrusting his full length in.

"oh my god!" you cry out, your manicured fingers wrap around his torso and dig into his pale skin.

his pace was relentless, the feeling of his thick cock dragging inside your walls and his tip continously pressing that gooey spot in you was overwhelming paired with his balls slapping against your ass.

you were on the brink of your orgasm, feeling the build-up in your tummy. "g'nna cum—" your sobs turn into near screams as you feel one of satoru's hands creep down and rub your puffy clit.

"cum for me. cum on my cock, god, baby please cum. c-can feel you squeezing me, oh fuck." he babbles, not entirely sure of what he was saying but he knew one thing, and it was that he was going to make sure he got to fuck you every chance he got before you left for school again.

୨୧ SUGURU GETO

❥₊ ⊹ though you have all the money you need to buy new purses, clothes, and sports cars, money simply could not buy you cooking skills. after countless of cooking classes for beginners (and dozens of burnt meals), your parents decided to hire a private chef for you. and that chef was suguru.

he was there to make whatever you wished for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, which you appreciated but ever since he's come into your mansion, you've found yourself craving something... different.

and suguru could tell. each time you first came downstairs in the morning you were always in some silky pyjama set. dainty lace straps of the top would always be falling off of your shoulders where he'd see no bra strap causing his eyes to fall down to your breasts and he would see your pert nipples peeking through.

but this time, you had come downstairs in a tiny little pyjama dress that did not cover your ass at all. suguru had asked you what you wanted for breakfast and you mumbled "pancakes" quietly, still trying to wake up.

you brushed past him to open a top cupboard, standing on the tips of your toes to reach a cup, your dress moving upwards and showcasing your -- oh my god you weren't wearing any panties.

suguru held back a groan at the sight of your bare pussy before muttering a quiet "fuck it" and you felt his large hands grip your hips, flipping you around to face him before he urgently pressed his lips into yours.

soon enough, he has you bare with your ass sitting on the cold marble countertops. black tufts of hair tickle your inner thighs while your mind is overwhelmed with pleasure.

suguru licks a strip up your pussy, from your hole to your clit. then one of his hands creeps closer to your heat and a thick finger plunges into you causing you to moan out.

your hands grab at his hair, pulling at the roots and he moans against you. his fingers work wonders in you, each thrust calculated and precise. every press from the digits would hit that sweet spot that made your ears ring.

his mouth was the opposite of his fingers, wrapped around your clit slurping loudly and messily. his moans made you press his face deeper into your cunt, basically riding his face.

"cum on my face, pretty girl..." he looks up at you, alluring eyes looking at your own. "know you've been wanting to, i'll let you, baby.”

you let out a strangled cry and grind quicker against his face, clit bumping against his nose. your cries get higher in pitch until finally the dam breaks and you orgasm all over suguru's face yet he never once stops his ministrations. his mouth continues to work your clit and his fingers are still fucking into you.

you were about to be thrown into another mind-numbing orgasm, tears lining your eyes and you sobbed out in overstimulation until the high was ripped away from you.

"w-what?" you looked up at suguru, confused.

"this time, you're gonna cum on my cock instead," he says before you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor.

୨୧ KENTO NANAMI

❥₊ ⊹ he knew he had an important meeting. knew it was with your father, but here nanami is, balls deep in his competitors daughter, whispering about how much he loves you.

you were bent over his large desk, your head facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. cute little tweed skirt pushed above your hips and your gucci monogrammed fishnet tights had a hole ripped out from the crotch.

when kento had ripped the hole, you gasped, ready to give him an earful of how hard it was for you to get those but you were quickly cut off by feeling his thick cock split you open accompanied by his strained voice saying, "i'll just get you another pair... another dozen if i get to do this to you..."

his hands were grabbing at your ass, while his eyes watched it recoil with each thrust of his hips. your pussy was dragging him in deeper, squeezing him impossibly tighter, it took everything in kento to not cum early, he needed to make sure you came at least twice before he does.

the sinful noise of skin against skin, accompanied by hushed moans permeated the office. each thrust of his cock was deep and impactful, but the pace was still quick. as much as he would love to take his time with you, he can't today.

"love you, baby," he moans. "love you so much, g'nna marry you one day, i swear..." kento rolls his hips, the head of his length pressing that gooey spot in you.

you let out a mewl, freshly manicured nails gripping the mahogany wood of the desk. you fuck your hips back onto him, relishing in the sheer amount of pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.

wanting to see your face, nanami's strong arms reach around your torso and pulls you upward, your back arching. he has one strong hand against your jaw, making your head face him while his other hand slithers down to your sopping pussy.

"k-kiss me..." you struggle between moans. "please kiss me."

and kento obliges. he presses his lips to yours as his hand begins to rub hurried circles to your puffy clit, making you moan into his mouth.

the drag of his thick cock paired with the stimulation of your clit was addicting, you pull apart from the kiss and your eyes roll to the back of your head. kento was overwhelming your senses, he was everywhere you needed him and everywhere you wanted him.

as your impending orgasm catches up to you, your hand grips the wrist of the hand playing with your pussy, the blunt of your nails dig into the skin.

"i-i'm cumming!" you sob, cunt sucking his cock in deeper and coating it as well as his wrist in your arousal. "love you s'much kento!" words slurring, still riding out your orgasm.

"one more time, princess... need you to cum one more time." he groans in your ear, moving downwards to press open-mouth kisses to your neck. his cock still bullying your insides while his lithe fingers rub your little clit relentlessly.

"y-yes!" you gasp, chest heaving.

"that's it... cum for me..." he coos.

as you come down from your second high, your ears ring but as soon as you come to, you realize the ringing wasn't from them. but instead it was from your phone.

[ (1) MISSED CALL FROM : DAD ]

dad: Y/N.

dad: Where the hell are you?!

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[cosycafune]

CAN'T YOU HANDLE YOUR PUNISHMENT, PRINCESS?

fucking the daughter of his closest client wasn’t his plan. after all, you’re sylus devoted enemy — even as a princess. sylus knew better than to indulge in you, but you’re intoxicating. intoxicating in ways that paint him out as a cruel sinner. but a taste of you is worth the destruction of the universe.

acts: public sex against a pool table, brat taming, provoking, unprotected sex, creampies, humiliation kink, corruption kink, rough sex, hate sex and losing the condom. 1.3k words. ‘could turn this into a series, dk.

DOMINATED, crushed, and sexually reformed, you remain beneath a grinning Sylus. Lingering beneath him is forbidden, but you couldn’t resist being pinned beneath the man you hate. Naturally, you hate Sylus with all there is to you, despising his analytical self and the sense of dominance that follows him.

An enemy.

Ironically, you fall caged beneath a naked Sylus – tension bubbling between the two of you. Tension from Sylus barely holding back, desperate to hate-fuck your egotistically, entitled self. Regardless, he wanted to humble you – sexually liberating your royalty-self. Shit, he wanted to take the princess – to resculpt you around his ample dick.

“Poor, little princess,” Sylus chuckles beneath you, his perfectly sculpted, nude physique rippling with every laugh.

“Shut up and just put it in,” Pouting, swarmed with embarrassment, you breathily respond to Sylus – flustered at his cock-head kissing against your trembling entrance.

“Mhmm, so you’re begging now, but you’re always telling Tara about how much you hate me?” Authoritatively questioning you, Sylus grins above you – depriving you of his angelic dick.

Shit, it’s big.

“Because you’re just so–” Before you could finish your sentence, Sylus deviously burrows his cock-head within you – enthralled by your eyes rolling back.

“--That’s the you…I like,” Purring, Sylus grunts – admiring your desperate, putty-imitating expression. 

Naturally, Sylus found your expression so beautiful, submissive and a new revelation. Monitoring your bratty self being conquered, posed beneath him, indirectly begging for him to put more of his large cock in. More as you gasp beneath him, small breaths entering his ears. 

Messing with the princess is heavily forbidden, but each facet of self-restraint Sylus harboured ruptured. Ruptured when you naively bent over the pool table, teasing him and vouching that you’re off-limits. Inevitably, he knew you were lying. Sylus figured this out while you adjusted your cue, arching in front of him as he stood behind you.

Sylus has been around long enough to know your intentions. Regularly, you would always bicker with him, complain, furrow your brows at his captivating voice. However, your intimate vulnerability seeped in as you lined your shot – hoping Sylus could decipher your sexual tease. 

A sexual tease you invoked by letting your short skirt rise, flaunting your bubble butt. The scrutinised move remained a risky one, but that’s how you found yourself here. Never would you openly admit your longing for Sylus, only masking your deepest desire with a searing, complicated anguish.

Hate that Sylus categorised as a breath of fresh air. He knew you hated all people with immense power, but that only stirred him on.

“Sylus, please!” Sprawled upon the pool table, you breathlessly plead with doe-like – scraping your ego hurriedly.

“Sweetie, a…simple please isn’t good enough,” Entertained, Sylus responds to you – exhibiting all the traits of a ruthless conqueror.

“Sy’, please!” Maintaining eye contact, you let out a muffled exclaim – battering your cum-soaked lashes.

Flaunting your beauty, you’re thrilled by Sylus being generous enough to plunge a little more of his girthy cock inside of you. A little more while you free a flustered, high-pitched gasp – unfamiliar with a cock this big. A veiny, girthy cock this big was inhumane; this served as a form of punishment to you. A punishment for not being humble, but it makes you gleeful.

Sylus always made you suffer in a way, so you were ready. Ready, huh?

“Can’t keep…the princess waiting,” Brutalising your ego, Sylus speaks with pride – noticing that it didn’t take much to leave you worshipping him.

Enemies, right?

“Sy’, the…condom doesn’t feel good,” Intrigued by your blabbering, Sylus raises a brow – glancing down at you with light concern.

You wanted it raw, unbounded and risky.

“Sweetie, are you sure you want me to take the condom off?” Devoted to your squeamish expression, Sylus questions you – softly pulling out the quarter of his cock that he put it.

A beautiful squealing sound filled the pool room.

“I don’t care about the consequences,” Embarrassed, you confess your forbidden request – observing Sylus silently stripping his cock of the condom.

“A gambler, huh?” Noticing the corruption he spreads in you, Sylus mutters – hurriedly running his cock against your drenched folds.

“I need this,” Teary, desperate to be destroyed, you breathe, “I want you to ruin me and to not hold back, since you’re betraying your client.” Serious, you propose something degrading – wanting Sylus to strip your dignity whole.

“Your safeword is crow, sweetie,” Blessed with your consent, Sylus smoothly replies – greedily stuffing your deprived cunt with his degrading cock.

There’s no way of restoring your pride after this.

“D-Don’t…hold back,” Extremely vulnerable, you gift Sylus the greenest light – wanting him to release all his glory on you.

“As if, sweetie, I'll punish you,” Before you could retort back at Sylus’ mean response, Sylus wickedly suffocates you with his cock. Menacingly, he fills you to the hilt with his retribution-representing cock – hoping to fuck your bratty self into submission.

“Sy–” Cutting you off with a soul-grabbing thrust, Sylus’ cock invades you – causing you to arch with newly-found satisfaction.

You’ve never felt like this before.

“‘So…pretty,” Applying an inhumane pace, Sylus admires your overwhelmed state – harshly pounding into your crying cunt.

Sexually restored, Sylus needily entwines his fingers with your own – smearing a kiss on your trembling lips. 

A mentally corroded you, whose lips depart, eyes completely rolled back and whose mind’s devoted to his cock. This side of you skyrocketed Sylus’ ego, making him beam as you can’t even berate him. Being rocked vigorously against the pool table, by his mind-boggling pace, left you frantic for more – actively craving Sylus.

“Handle…it, sweetie,” Merciless, Sylus grits his teeth with each moan – so close to losing control and finishing inside of you already.

This degrading sight stirred primal instincts in Sylus.

“‘Too much! Ah! Yes!” Too clouded to care, you harshly squeeze Sylus’ hand – your cunt mushy at his deranged hip snapping.

Barely holding on, you whiny with pleasure – warm, fuzzing and light-hearted. Sylus’ enchanted self grew addicted, unwilling to spare you an inch of grace. Each thrust, each outcry of his, each comment fuelled his addiction. Your cunt crying, pleading for him to further swell it up, didn’t calm down his addiction. An addiction that leaves him writhing for more, thrusting his deepest as he choked on his breaths.

“F-Fuck, so…good! Y/n!” Hazy, eyes painfully rolled back, Sylus wails with satisfaction – his body shaking. Even so, he couldn't physically bring himself to stop – beads of sweat and tears dripping near your face.

“Gonna…cum, Sy,” Warming Sylus, you clench subconsciously around him – your cunt throbbing at how his cock pulverises you.

Relentlessly conquered, claimed, Sylus’ rough, intimate pace consumes you impossibly, pushing you into embracing weakness. All of your honour, your fighting spirit, had been fucked out of you, leaving you as Sylus’ newly ruled victim. Naturally, Sylus is used to people worshipping him because of his strength. Yet, seeing you, his sworn enemy, beneath him, wanting more, emotionally aroused him in ways he never knew.

Knowing you’re his client’s daughter, the King’s, made this forbidden intimacy much sweeter.

“Cum,” Sylus commands, only to foolishly cum at the same time you do. His crimson, starry eyes widen at you instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

Silently, Sylus hoped he pounded the false hatred out of your heart. After all, you can’t run to your father now – angered by his presence. He ruined you, claiming you. Claiming you with the heart of a sinner, forming a mental revolution on you.

“I’ll take care of you, but just for tonight,” Groggy, Sylus informs you – respectful of the intense high that you both would have to come down from.

His heart, it’s the heart of a sinner. Addiction, temptation and forbidden treats are the things Sylus loves the most. He’s used to having everything.

Checkmate.

__

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