#I want to have time for myself but I just can't

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lathe your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[schattenhonig]

The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch.  He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it. 

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them. 

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations. 

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you. 

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls. 

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona. 

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy. 

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers. 

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it. 

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt. 

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him. 

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly,  "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight. 

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them. 

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience. 

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck. 

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain. 

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness. 

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand,  "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings. 

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue. 

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section. 

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat. 

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?” 

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. 

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.  

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you. 

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured. 

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more. 

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit,  you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips. 

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you. 

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[lemotmo]

I don't often do this, because I try to avoid discourse in fandom and sometimes you just don't vibe with a character. It happens.

But I keep seeing these horrible and, quite frankly, very wrong and disrespectful takes on Eddie Diaz' character. And I can't just sit here and ignore them anymore.

I cannot and will never understand why people don't like Eddie.

I've read some posts and comments earlier about people disliking Eddie and... really? Eddie is boring? He doesn't get interesting storylines? He's just a prop for Buck and his storylines?

Are we watching the same show here?

Eddie is, by far, one of the most interesting characters on 911. The man has had one trauma after the other piled up on him, but still he keeps going. Why? Because of the one thing that matters more to him than life itself: Christopher.

As a single mother myself, I can relate. The struggle to want to give your child everything, to do everything for them, even if it comes at the cost of your own mental and emotional well-being? It is very real. I cannot tell you how many times I end up crying to myself at night, blaming myself because I wasn't able to stop the outside world from hurting my son. And you have to do it all by yourself as well. There is no one there to share the burden with, to share the heartache with. It's tough and it's real.

Eddie's storylines are intricate and nuanced and based in reality. They aren't necessarily the biggest and loudest storylines, but they still matter to people who can relate to him. People like me.

Now, 911 is guilty of showing a lot of important Eddie moments from someone else's point of view. That is true. Especially Buck's POV. The shooting comes to mind, even a part of his breakdown and more recently Eddie's friendship with Tommy. He made a bro-friend and seemed so happy and carefree, but since we saw it from Buck's POV, we can't fully trust this image.

So, I think that is why some people see him as just a prop in Buck's story. But it's much more complex than that. Buck stepped inside Eddie's world without complaint. He helped him out from day one by introducing Eddie to Carla. For the first time, Eddie is no longer alone in life. There is someone there who understands him and his love for Chris. He can safely rest and trust that Buck will be there to step in if necessary. He actually went ahead and put it in his will. Eddie loves the way that Buck loves his son. And the show is still using that bond to date. We saw Buck and Eddie in conversation about Chris, Buck talking to Chris, Buck being jealous of Chris thinking Tommy was cool...

I don't know what the future will bring for Eddie, but I desperately want and need him to be happy. And yes, I do think the narrative will eventually lead him to Buck. His happiness has always been intricatelly linked to Christopher. The way they keep weaving in Christopher in Buck's storyline? The way Eddie keeps being inserted in Buck's bisexuality storyline? These are some of the many reasons that give me absolute certainty that Buddie is in the works.

In conclusion? Just stop hating on Eddie Diaz folks. It's not a good look on you.

[permanentswaps]

Fun During The Swap Flu - Breaking Quarantine

Check out part 1 by @viceversa-666 here.

Day 74:

As the days passed by, I found myself settling into Jared's life more and more. Even though initial novelty of being in his body had worn off, I was still jerking off my huge cock at least 5 times a day. Damn Jared’s sex drive is through the roof.

Anyway, they said that the virus would last 30-45 days. When Day 30 came, I felt a wave of emotions. Mostly I was dreading giving up these muscles and my sexy face, but I was also feeling a bit afraid of losing my identity. Even though I hadn’t been like this for that long, I had truly come to think of myself as Jared. But, to my momentary relief, nothing happened.

However, the following weeks were excruciating. Every day felt like a countdown, with the looming possibility of being ripped out of this body at any moment. I found myself constantly on edge, wondering exactly it would happen.

But here we are, 74 days and counting and it still hasn't happened yet. Somehow, I'm still here, still inhabiting Jared's body.

We keep hearing reports of some cases of the "long swap flu," where people just seem to be infected indefinitely. At first, it sounded like a wild rumor, but every day past 45, more and more I began to cling to these stories like a lifeline. Could it be possible? Could I really stay like this forever? I hope to hell its true - I love my body.

And you know what gives me the most hope? I don't think that anyone is particularly concerned about it long swap flu. It seems like they're more focused on preventing more swaps and making sure the majority of people get back. I guess a few hundred is an okay margin of error in the grand scheme of things - even if for me, it's everything.

My brother isn't too happy about all this. I can see the worry etched into his face every time he looks at me. He keeps googling different information about treatments, desperate to find some sort of cure.

Honestly, I feel a bit bad for him. I know how much he misses this body, and I can see that he’s not taking on my old identity as much as I’ve taken on his. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a sense of selfish relief. The thought of going back to my old life fills me with dread, a stark contrast to the comfort I've found in living as Jared.

In the meantime, I've been hitting up the dating apps, eager to explore this newfound sexual appeal. It's exhilarating to flirt and connect with people as Jared, everyone just keeps telling me how hot they think I am and keep asking me to send nudes. In fact, I’m in such high demand, I decided to start an onlyfans just to make sure the people get what they want.

But up until now, I've been a bit nervous about exploring anything physical in-person – I mean you never know when I could switch back. But hey, I think I’m just gonna say fuck it and break the quarantine. I have this absolute stud in my DMs begging to breed me, and I for one can’t wait to be dominated.

[another-random-paradise]

Your writing was adorable! I have a headcanon request for TWST. Feel free to ignore if it's not interesting, I won't mind. (￣▽￣)=3

Lilia, Leona, Azul (or whomever as long as Lilia is there)'s reaction to crush!reader sleepily telling them they want to marry them one day.

I'm a sap for mushy things. ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

A sleepy confession

Thank you so much for the request, it's adorable!! and of course, thank you for the compliments too! I'm a sucker for mushy things too, so this was so much fun to write!

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

Crush!Reader sleepily telling him, they want to marry him

Characters: Lillia, Leona, Azul

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that i can think off

Lillia

-you probably found silver asleep somewhere comfortable and instead of waking him up like usual (cause you're a good friend) you decide to also lay down and sleep... You most likely had History with professor Trein before this.

-Lillia just happened to be nearby, or maybe he was keeping an eye on silver, yk, like a good dad :D

- If you're napping under a tree, he might just be sitting on one of the branches

-You'd sleepily look up to him on the branches, as the old fae smiles down at you, and you, probably already half a sleep and maybe even thinking it's a dream, mumble out a soft "I wanna marry you one day.." 

-poor guy almost fell out off the tree

-you can't just do that to his old heart!! You can and you did

-his expression would soften, like he'd still be smiling, but it wouldn't be his typical trickster kinda smile (please tell me you know what i mean)

-Despite his usual attitude, I feel like he was very worried about loving you. I'm a huge believer in the Idea that fae usually only fall in love once, so after Meleanor, he believed that was it, he'd never love again. And then you came into his life, like a shining star, guiding him out of the darkness.  

-While he was grateful that he got a second chance at love, especially with someone as amazing as you, it's also nerve wrecking for him. The last and only time before this, he had his heart broken and ended up raising her son. Just the thought of the same thing happening again terrified him.

-But after what you just said, he won't need to worry about that anymore, right?

-Now he just needs to come up with the best way to confess... maybe he could cook you something! 

Leona

-Due to Leona being a bit of a tsundere, I don't feel like he'd get you to cuddle/sleep with him before officially dating

-BUT, if you two got paired together for a project, especially if it's in the botanical garden, chances are very high, you are doing the project and he's napping

-and doing a project by yourself gets you tired, especially one meant for magic as a magicless student, so you eventually lie down next to him

-due to his sensitive hearing, he lazily opens eyes, and sees you, already half asleep, looking at him, confusing him at first not that he's complaining, till.. "Despite you making me do this project by myself, i somehow i still wanna marry you some day" and just like that you're asleep.

-He, on the other hand, is suddenly very wide awake. 

-what?? you didn't mean that, right?? that's just the tiredness speaking, right?? you couldn't have meant that, right? why, or rather how, could you like him of all people?....He can't imagine being anyone's, let alone your, first choice. He's so used to being second.

-For the first time in forever, he is fully awake and can't go back to sleep, just what are you doing to him, Herbivore? 

-But this means you like him back, right? alright fine, he'll put some work into confessing, just don't expect anything to grand

-He'd still be awake once you wake up again, much to your confusion, but still deliberately refuse to help. Not a word of what you said is spoken, but if you look closely enough you'll see the blush on his cheeks!

Azul

-You wanted to rest after a long day, maybe even after a long shift at the mostro lounge, and Azul was gracious enough to let you rest on one of the couches in the VIP room, while he worked. He actually wanted to appear like a gentleman in front of you and impress you.

-You can't convince me that those couches aren't comfortable. Which is why you almost immediately fall asleep the moment you lay down.

-But before you do, you make one last comment "I already want to marry you one day as is, but if it means I get to rest like this every night, I'll buy the ring tomorrow"

-If a student walked in right now, they might just confuse him with a crashed pc; or maybe with riddle, considering how red he is

-Just completely stops everything he's doing, he's in shock. he doesn't believe he can actually be loved

-It genuinely shocks him so much that you actually like him back, let alone want to marry him, but he can't say he isn't happy! So him being even more of a gentleman to you and giving you countless discounts worked! (You actually already liked him before that! but he was to busy being insecure to notice)

-Immediately starts working on a relationship contract for you two, hell, you said you want to marry him, right?? might as well start working on the marriage certificate!

-He continues to be absolutely flustered as he writes the two contracts, if either of the twins saw him right now, he'd never hear the end of it!

-Prepare to be asked to dinner at the most romantic table in the mostro lounge with Azul, where he will then ask you out and discusses your relationship as if it was a business meeting :)

Ahhhh my first request, thank you so much again for your kind words and the adorable request, I truly hope i lived up to it's greatness <3

I'm still in book 4, so i tried to write Lilia as in-character as possible based on what i saw of him during events and from other writers :)

feedback is welcomed, just be Kind! Hope you all have a lovely day/night!

[charmandabear]

11. Astarion x Reader 👀

We're not going to worry about how long it'll take me to answer these. We're not going to talk about it. Listen, I'm trying so hard to not make these into whole things, I just want to treat them like writing exercises, but I physically can't not finish smut once it's started.

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game ~ other entries

11. "I touched myself last night thinking about you." "I know."

Tags/Warnings: reader isn't gendered but has a vulva, blood/blood drinking, p in v sex, somewhat rough sex (reader gets a little feral in this one)

You're not subtle about it at all.

Every time he catches you staring, you quickly turn your head. At one point you even just shift your eyes, trying to pretend you're looking at something behind him. But there's no way he isn't at least a little suspicious.

Since the night you let Astarion bite you, the tension between the two of you has been palpable. Something about having him pressed down on top of you, his lips on your neck and his hand cradling your neck in a way that was disproportionately gentle set something on fire inside you. You really thought that you could just get over your little crush if you got it out of your system. Sate the need and you could go back to just being friends... Or whatever you are with him.

But it had the opposite effect. Now, his very presence turns you on. The wind catches his scent and you instinctively press your thighs together. He grins after making some sassy remark to Gale, and the glint of his fangs in the light makes your mouth go dry. You even need to suppress a moan when he gets a particularly impressive kill. You really hope no one heard that one.

So now, sitting around the campfire with the rest of your companions, you're just trying desperately to appear normal. You laugh absentmindedly at whatever joke Karlach just made while in your mind, Astarion's railing you up against a tree. It's only when you realize that Wyll has been trying to ask you a question for the past 90 seconds that you know you're too far gone to be in polite company.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it, long day," you make the excuse lamely. "I'm going to turn in a little early, I've got a bit of a headache."

"Do you want something for it?" Shadowheart asks with a frown. "I've got some herbal remedies that might help."

"I'm fine, I think I just need some rest." You force a smile onto your face. "'Night, all." You walk back to your tent stiffly, speeding up to cover the last few meters quickly. Your breath wracks through your body and your blood pounds in your ears. You've never - never - gotten this worked up over another person, never mind a man. Honestly, he's not even really your usual type, you'd normally be much more likely to pursue someone like Shadowheart. But she so clearly has a thing for Karlach, and that's not something you'd want to get in the way of.

But this pale, devastatingly handsome vampire elf has your desire in a chokehold.

You light a lantern inside your tent and take out your journal to sketch. You try to conjure some of the imagery you saw today to keep your brain off Astarion. Scratch and the owlbear cub playing. The terrifying harpies that almost lured one of the tiefling children. Astarion's blade dripping with harpy blood while his bright red eyes sparkle with mischief and the thrill of he kill.

Fucking hells.

You eventually put your journal away and lay down on your bedroll, staring at the ceiling of your tent while the others continue to chat and laugh outside. You listen to their conversation die down, their goodnights, and finally the distant sound of crickets and other nighttime fauna. Your eyes start to grow heavy, or at the very least bored of looking at the support rods in your tent.

You only realize that you've drifted to sleep when you're startled awake by a soft tapping on the canvas flap that separates you from the rest of camp.

"Y-yes?" Your voice is shakier than you'd like, although it's not like a vicious creature would politely knock on your makeshift door. The flap lifts up to reveal the literal last person you'd like to see right now.

"Hello, darling," Astarion grins in that irresistible way that he does. "I wanted to check in on our fearless leader. You've seemed dreadfully jumpy all day."

"Oh! Um." You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "I'm.. fine. Thank you, Astarion." You nod your head in a gesture of dismissal, but he doesn't move.

"Are you sure? You're positively flushed." His smile suggests he knows more than he's letting on. You chew on your lower lip to distract you from the growing ache between your legs.

"I'm perfectly fine, Astarion, thank you. Good night." You reach to close the tent flap but he holds onto it. Your fingers brush against his and it's like a jolt of lightning passes between your hands.

"I'm not buying it," he hums, dropping his voice. He pushes his way into your tent and you scramble backwards. The last thing you need is for him to touch you - you might not be able to control yourself if he does. "Now tell me, what's had you so hot and bothered all day?"

"N-nothing," you stammer, wishing you could just disappear on the spot. He raises an eyebrow and you backpedal. "Well, fine, I think something Gale cooked isn't sitting quite right with me. I was... embarrassed." The lie rings hollow even to you.

"Come now, love, we both know you're a terrible liar." He crawls towards you on his knees, a predator stalking his prey. Your breath catches in your throat. "Do you have something you need to confess?"

You're trapped. You've run out of room in the tent to back away, and Astarion has all but crawled on top of you. His scent is intoxicating and his eyes gleam in the low light. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"I touched myself last night thinking about you."

"I know." The grin that curls across his face is fiendish. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"You know?" Then you gasp suddenly. "The tadpole..."

Astarion lets out a bark of a laugh, loud enough that you're worried it might wake your other companions. "Darling, I didn't need a tadpole to figure that one out. Like I said, you're a terrible liar." He nudges his knee closer to the apex of your legs and you can feel your arousal making your underclothes wet. "What I want to know is, how did you picture me? My head between your legs? Did I have you on all fours in the forest? Or..." His lips ghost against yours now and your head feels dizzy with lust. "Or perhaps I had you pinned down in this very tent, taking my time as I had my way with you?"

Your instincts take over and you close the minimal distance between you, pulling him down on top of you as you ravage his lips. You claw at his clothing, no longer interested in maintaining decorum. He tears at the laces of your breeches, pulling them down below your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to the open air. A cry rips through your throat as he licks a thick stripe up your slit, and his chuckle rumbles deep in his chest. He pulls up on his knees and grins down at you, open and wanton, as he slips out of his pants.

"So very eager," he hums as he frees his cock, engorged and already dripping. A shudder runs through you as you see it, and you yank on his shirt and pull him down to meet you. You kiss him roughly, catching his lower lip in your teeth as you hook your leg around his waist.

"Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Astarion," you hiss through gritted teeth, and you groan loudly when he easily sinks in up to his base.

"Someone wants the whole of camp to hear," he growls in your ear as he begins to slowly thrust into you.

"Then you better make it quick so we don't wake them," you snarl in response, all pretenses having vanished. You tangle your fingers into his hair and press his face to your neck. You feel his lips stretch into a smile just before he sinks his fangs into you, the icy shard of pain melting into the heat of his mouth warming with your blood.

You jut your hips up into him, desperately chasing your release as he drinks his fill. He fucks into you, hard and messy, and before long you're feeling the pressure building in your core.

"Gods, Astarion, don't stop," you gasp hungrily in his ear, and he increases his pace to a punishing rhythm. You're starting to grow faint from blood loss just as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your walls clench and shudder around his length and he tears his mouth away from your neck, his expression wild and bloody. A few more broken ruts and you can feel him spilling inside you, the feeling his pulsing cock prolonging your own climax.

The two of you eventually still, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting heavily. Your ears strain to hear if there has been any disturbance in camp to indicate that your other companions heard anything. Outside your tent remains, thankfully, silent.

"Well then," Astarion exhales quickly as he slides out of you. "Darling, if it's going to be like that, then you just need to invite me next time."

[eldritch-spouse]

I'd give almost anything to be squished between Vesper and Santi.

[You'll give your holes, that's for sure. Fem reader.]

" Are you sure I'm ready? "

Santi watches you squirm in place, picking and plucking at an outfit that shows more skin than anything you've ever put on before. He assured you, several times, that by the standards of Lust you're being very conservative.

The incubus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but tries to be patient. After all, going to Hell, even if just for a little visit, isn't something all humans treat casually. Especially not his darling match, poor thing that you are, so ignorant of his origins, his nature. Visiting the King of Lust specifically is twofold the stress for your little head, he must imagine.

" And why wouldn't you be, love? "

You huff.

" I... I don't know... What if I get nervous and say something really stupid? This is a -What did you call them?- An Icon of Hell, I can't be making a fool of myself- "

" Dearest. " The dark demonoid interrupts, lifting himself off a lush bed to stand behind your figure in the mirror. " Vesper may be a King, but he's also my friend. I only want him to know about us, you're going to do just fine. "

Averting your gaze from his, your lips are still firmly set in a frown.

Santi whispers sweetly. " Don't you trust me? "

" Y- Yes. "

There's a grin. He plays with the hem of your scarce top enough to let a nipple flash for a lurid second.

" Then do this one favor for me, I promise you'll like him. He's quite the character. " Understatement.

He can hear your heartbeat pound inside the vehicle.

The trip through his birth Ring has been uneventful for the most part. It could only have been that. You may be considered fresh meat by his kin that inhabit this particular zone of Hell, but you're accompanied by a high-ranker and being escorted in a limousine sporting the royal insignia.

No one would dare interfere.

It doesn't stop the curious glances, the oohs and aahs, or the sights Lust often has on display. The streets are an open ground for depravity, it's very standard to watch pairs and groups of demonoids crawling over each other in a cacophony of moans, humans and monsters alike giving into their carnal whims, lewd smiles on their faces as they're paraded in fetish gear and shown off like the prizes many of them are.

Santi watches your scandalized expressions as you nearly fog up the window in morbid curiosity.

" S- Santi! "

" Mm? "

" They're- Oh lord, they're tied to a post Santi! "

He arches a brow, fingers ceasing their casual groping of your thighs to glance out, seeing some poor sod of a human tied to a street post by the wrists. They look disheveled and pant in exertion, sweaty, infernal obscenities scribbled on their skin while gratuitous amounts of seed ooze out of their orifices. They lean on the post for support.

" Oh, the poor thing- " He jests, failing to keep straight-faced at your glare. " They're going to keel over! "

The fiend who had just finished using the community cumdump gives them a loving pat on the head and reaches from a bag to offer the human water. The two appear to be chatting idly. Santi watches confusion etch itself in your pretty complexion at the contrast of the human's bruised, exhausted state and the care they're shown by the one you recognize as an assailant.

The nature of Lust is conflicting.

It's oftentimes hard to tell whether or not someone is here of their own volition, partaking and letting go because they decided to, or because they caved under the Ring's influence and began to enjoy their unfortunate demise.

Some people argue that Lust is the most merciful Ring of Hell for those that get dragged into the annex, because while you may lose yourself, your last lucid moments are spent in utter bliss, and that bliss is what you'll know from henceforth. Others argue that Lust offers the ultimate humiliation of the soul, turning you into a beast of the flesh that craves only to use and be used.

Santi doesn't quite care. The end result is always the same, everyone enjoys themselves here.

Deciding that perhaps it's best not to let you get too into your own head, the incubus looms behind your concentrated figure and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck, gently coaxing you to turn around so he can pull you into his lap and shower you in idle affections.

" Santi... " You start while he kisses the back of your hand.

" Yes, love? "

" How did you and the King meet? "

What a question.

He doesn't want to think too much about those days, that past which seems so distant yet not at all. He was someone else, back then. Someone harsher, someone you wouldn't have fancied, someone who'd make you quake in fear even if your loins sang. He wouldn't have been able to appreciate you for the treasure that you are, during that period. You deserve more than that, you're worth the world and all its pleasures.

" I don't remember all that well anymore, but I know it was during a party, sweetness. " He vaguely replies.

" An orgy. " You correct him, having started to put two and two together about the cultural cues of a concubus' speech.

" Same thing. " Santi counters, knowing very well there's a difference.

A silence settles for a brief couple of moments where the incubus gets to close his eyes and bask in the comfort of your perfect form, feeling your every muscle twitch against him, the hitch of your breath as arousal has yet to fade from your system.

He's doing this intentionally.

For things to go well today, it's ideal for you to always be somewhat stimulated. Plus, he's always loved watching you writhe and try to conceal your own desires. Not as much as Santi adores seeing you boldly demand he do obscenities to you. For you. To please you.

" You used to live here before, right? "

" Mhmm... " He hums smoothly.

" What made you want to leave Hell? "

Santi halts, gathering his thoughts, coming up with a decently abstract yet still valid answer.

" I wasn't happy with myself back then, love. I figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt. "

Half-truths, oh bittersweet as they are, he almost doesn't feel bad when you smile your blind acceptance.

" I'm glad you decided to leave. "

The monster's heart stirs in its confines.

" What, you wouldn't want to move in here? The heart of Lust? " Santi mocks.

" Fuck no- "

And he cackles.

You've entered mansion grounds.

This sly-eyed imp with pointed hair introduced himself as King Vesper's head imp, and has been escorting you two through the halls of the royal mansion so far.

If you had to describe the place, you'd call it deceptive.

Deceptively ornate. Suspiciously calm. Questioningly beautiful.

There's something amiss, is a better way to put the vibe of this location.

Varying shades of pink fade invitingly into purples and reds that seem to comfort and beckon. Many were the gold-swirled corners and turns that you peered into momentarily before returning to following the guide. The furniture and décor is just standardly royal enough to make you wonder if many of the set ups are meant to be as phallic and yonic as they seem. You could swear one of the walls had patterns carved into it that resembled the vulvas of countless individuals. A statue was poised just suggestively enough that it resembled malehood. Many are the paintings and figurines scattered across walls and vases depicting pairs and groups of lovers entangled in dirty yet passionate acts. Are the objects on the shelves meant to be sex toys or just peculiarly shaped abstract figurines?

When passing by what Lacai called the "Hall of His Majesty's Favorite Commissions", Santi covered your eyes occasionally. As far as you could tell, it appeared to be furnished with many differently styled depictions of Vesper's raunchy adventures with a plethora of his attractive playmates. You trust Santi's judgement that maybe some of them are too potent for the human eye.

Since the moment you set foot here, your grip on the dark incubus' hand has been iron-like, trying to siphon some of his calmness. Santi looks absolutely enamored with some of the design choices present, making you wonder if maybe he'll do some tweaking to your living space later.

" And we've arrived. " The imp, previously idly chatting with your lover, exclaims.

Two incredibly tall doors separate you three from whatever lies beyond. Infernal is engraved in them, statements you can't discern, stylized in a type of perfect, gentle cursive and accompanied by sculpted tendrils embracing the torsos of emerging demonoid figures sporting androgynous builds.

You can't help but get lost in the expressions of such visceral bliss captured in their faces. They appear to be molds, almost. Alive. Suffering the torments of eternal pleasures. Grotesque, beautiful. Maybe you really are Santi's match after all... Or maybe that's this sweet smell you've been drowning in for a while getting into your head.

" King Vesper will welcome you shortly, if you need anything, do scream my name. "

A wink, directed at both of you, and the head servant is gone, slinking back into the previous halls without a moment's notice.

Perhaps your gulp was a little too loud.

" Deep breaths, you know what's going to happen- " Santi pulls you into a big-titted hug, rubbing your goosebump-riddled skin. " No need to sweat about it. "

Much more easily said than done.

Chuckling and giggling is heard from the other end of the doors.

" There there, all set to rights, head on out honey. "

One of the massive doors parts forward, and a small hand struggles to find balance upon it. A grayish monster woman emerges, shaky, glazed eyes unaware of either of you. She tries to rearrange her fur and tuck loose tufts into her clumsily worn suit, but only succeeds in nearly wobbling to the floor. The stacks of paper and cases under her right arm tell you that this woman came here for some kind of diplomatic task, and probably didn't get much done...

Santi politely helps the lady step forward, unable to wipe away the only slightly mocking grin on his face.

" Do come again, I believe our business isn't quite complete! "

The same voice calls.

It's hard to describe it. Strong, potent, undeniably demanding of everyone's attention to a scary degree, but also loving, desperate, begging you to listen, to come closer. Velveteen reverence and the authority of someone who can take it away from you in the snap of a finger, a tempter, a lover, a challenger.

You don't need to think too hard to understand whose voice that is.

The poor woman mumbles some kind of exasperated farewell before she too disappears into the same halls Lacai had left through.

You recall a conversation about royal etiquette you had earlier with Santi. When the King of Lust accepts a request for a meeting, even if he's not being summoned, it's considered polite and common sense to also bring him something to eat. This meal could come in the form of a second person, or the requester themself. You suppose you know the choice the monster girl made.

" Next please! "

A shudder wracks its way down your body, but a firm warm hand on the small of your back prevents you from stepping back.

You're guided forward, into what appears to be a lavish lounge room, sharing the same inviting tonalities from before. Big couches and beds and tall mirrors with rails and steps spread across the room, even what you think is meant to be a pretty discreet altar in the middle, disguised as an artistic design choice. A neatly arranged table is set up next to a balcony, half obscured by darkened curtains. A great chaise lounge is clearly meant for your majesty, the other smaller two are meant for guests obviously.

The two of you stand politely at the entrance, waiting for acknowledgment, and the odor permeating this room is so intensely thick it feels like it's dripping into your skull, caressing every inch of you.

Alarmingly, your skin becomes feverish and you gasp for much needed air, feeling the peaks of your tits perk immediately, a rush of blood flying to your nethers. You feel the overwhelming urge to drop your already light clothes and throw yourself into one of the many soft cloths offered.

Santi too sniffs and rumbles at the atmosphere, no doubt incensed by the scent of what might have transpired only moments earlier. Although he's much more in control of himself than you, a gentle touch guiding you back into focusing on the present. You thumb at the bracelet he gave you, the one that presses into the inside of your wrist, dispensing a countering substance into the thin sheet of skin there.

Said substance is the only thing that's keeping you from crawling on the floor like a dog in heat.

A large, flowing tail swishes, and the two of you finally have the composure to glance right, met with the visage of King Vesper, naked as the day he was spat onto Hell, grabbing belongings from a fancy cabinet. When he turns around, your breath catches.

It's not entirely news to you. Santi described him to you, and Vesper has got to be the Icon of Hell who most desires to be seen by everyone, so you knew he was pink, voluptuous and fluffy in a few sections.

But seeing him in person is a whole other matter. It doesn't compare to any detailed descriptions.

Only Santi has managed to captivate you more intensely than the demonlord standing before you. It's... Well, if you had to try to put it into words, when you gaze into those big, predatory magenta eyes, it's like the shock of when you first glanced at Santi- But without the warmth in your chest.

No, this here is just warmth in your loins.

No soul in Heaven or Hell is stopping your eyes from dancing all over Vesper's body. From flowing tendrils to piercing pinks, heart-shaped nipples, golden chains, neatly-arranged fluff and thighs for days, a second mouth grinning at the two of you- There's so much to focus on, so much to ogle, that your sight nearly crosses for a moment.

He's a lot.

It's hard to steady your breathing.

Eventually, you notice those purpled claws are holding onto a spiral-shafted bottle and three miss wine glasses. You don't know what's inside the bottle, but it looks like a regular wine.

" Your Majesty- "

" Vesper, Santi. We've been over this. " The Icon frowns.

" Vesper. Long time no see. " Your incubus smiles, a slight wag of the tail behind him.

In contrast, the Icon's entire head tendril curls with happiness. " Oh say less! Much too long! And after this news, I would drag you here myself if you refused my invite. "

Santi nods with an expression that clearly shows he doesn't doubt the King one bit.

Suddenly, the ruler's gaze snaps to you, like a hawk spotting its lunch a mile away. He bends, much too close, invading, before grabbing smoothly onto your left hand. This close, you can smell the lush, almost floral scent coming from what must be that mane around his neck.

" And where have my manners fled- You must be this harlot's one and only match, the human I've so been aching to meet. " A thumb runs across your knuckles.

" Hhh- Hello- It's a pleasure, your majesty. "

Brilliant. Flawless. You definitely didn't choke up like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Santi chuckles, introducing your name to the monarch, who licks his lips.

" You may recognize me as a King, but just as I said to Santi, tonight you know me not as a ruler, but a friend. A lover, even. " The last part swooned dreamily, planting facetious suggestions.

Then, he does something you should have seen coming. Should have remembered, actually, but even knowing what was about to transpire, no one could blame you for blanking.

Gleefully, the Icon reaches down across his own figure, hands drifting along his front to grope and paw at his fattened slit. It looks good enough to make you want to shove your whole face in there, and frankly that might be the intended effect. In mere practiced seconds, Vesper's cocks proudly slide out.

To say he's hung is an understatement, but he wouldn't be the King of Lust if he didn't sport a trial of willpower between his legs. Two of them, actually. Ringed and slick, with this restless tentacle poking and prodding between them, occasionally latching onto one of those lengths before switching to the other like its indecisive. You can appreciate the pigment of his cocks, which is a weird thing to say but true nonetheless. It makes you wonder how they'd look stained by the wetness of your puffed cunt.

More than gawk, you huff some kind of bewildered animal noise, hues flickering between the Lord's own and Santi's face. When Santi kneels, so do you, blinking as Vesper grows half-hard in a twitch or two.

The lump in your throat won't go down while you observe Santi lean forward and chastely kiss the tip of Vesper's right cock, before swirling his tongue around the head as best as he can and leaning back. He made that look like the most erotic thing you've ever seen, seemingly unbothered by the effect that view had on you when he expectantly beckons you to tend to the spare member.

Nowhere near as charming as a concubus, your small lips tremble when you close your eyes and lean in to imitate the act, cheeks aflame. This will be the first person you've put your lips upon after having started a relationship with Santi. You decide not to think too hard about it. A small peck is planted against Vesper's length, and the shudder that rocks your body afterwards has you exhaling hard through your nose. Although you glance at Santi for approval, he smiles and arches a brow as if to tell you that you're not quite done yet. The cock hovering in front of you flexes and you understand you're going to have to put some heart into it.

By the time you decide to try and swirl your small tongue around the King's tip, he's already beading in excitement, the view of a still somewhat timid human trying to appease him probably doing something for the demonlord.

It's messy. You have to turn your head and put more effort into it than Santi, ever practiced, did. Unfortunately, Vesper tastes almost as good as the other incubus next to you, so even if you're struggling, it's hard to let go. You could suck at him all day if it meant keeping that taste on your tongue.

Eventually, when you do pull away, a string of precum follows, snapping onto your chin and making you try to clean it away with your fingers. A bad idea, they're sticky now. Thankfully, Santi is there to lick them clean for you, winking to let you know you did a good job.

" I do so love making new acquaintances. " Vesper seems to ebb satisfaction. He doesn't bother with his exposed malehood and motions over to the chaise lounge area. " Please, both of you, sit. Talk with me. "

And you do. Of course you do. Your legs might eventually give out if you don't.

The King gracefully splays himself on his seat, uncorking the bottle with his index claw and placing the three differently sized glasses onto the table. You and Santi sit closely on one of the opposite chaises lounges.

" Can I get you lovebirds some temptation rouge? " He purrs, beginning to pour the drinks anyway.

Santi nods. " I'll have some. None for the lady, please. "

Vesper pauses his pouring, the alluring stream of purplish delight fading enough to allow you to focus.

He frowns. " Oh come now. "

The high-ranker doesn't budge. " Vesper, this isn't something humans should- "

" Mmm really? I recall you offering it quite generously. " The King taps idly at the shaft of the bottle, his tone petty.

The black-horned demon offers a look that begs Vesper not to push on the matter, which is apparently met with mercy.

" But I understand, you're in love, the world has a different hue. "

" Yes... You couldn't guess how distinct. "

Not quite deciphering the exchange the two fiends had, you choose to speak up when Vesper inches Santi's drink his way.

" I can have some. "

Santi shoots you a look. " No. No, that's silly- "

Santi's tense, sighing.

But a large paw has already been raised. " Hush! The lady has spoken, and who are we to deny her? "

" Surely, just one sip is alright. Besides, she's a virgin of Lust, let her enjoy some of my land's exquisite offerings. "

You watch the King pour half a glass for you. You're no virgin, how could you be with Santi by your side? Though saying that someone is a virgin in Lust generally means that it's their first time visiting the Ring.

You spot a muscle on Santi's arm twitch when you cautiously grab the miss wine cup. You know the contents within are likely a very potent aphrodisiac, perhaps a psychostimulant, something that'll make you trip balls essentially. After all, concubi don't drink or eat out of necessity, so this clearly has a use.

" Thank you. " Santi responds, a bit flatter.

Reclining on the seat, the Icon sips out of his glass, the mouth on his stomach licking its chops at the shared taste. A tail flicks, you note that he's been idly stimulated this entire time by the tendrils still squirming between his two dicks.

" So, tell me sweetheart, what do you think of my Ring so far? "

You hope he didn't catch you staring, but that face says it all.

" It's... " You have to think for a second, finding it difficult to articulate a plethora of mixed feelings.

" Freeing, in a strange kind of way. " You trace the rim of the glass. " It's still Hell, still scary, and I don't understand much of what I see out there... But I wish- " Your cheeks grow warmer. " I wish sometimes... That I could join. "

When you look back up, Vesper is grinning, this very amused glint in those magenta pools. " Mhmm, an honest response. I appreciate it. "

You smile politely in return.

Conversation unfurls easily afterwards as both demons partake of the rouge, their faces darken with time and they seem to sway the slightest amount, bodies restless. When you take your first sample of wine, the room is already thick with a scent you've grown to understand means hungry concubi are looming around.

Pungent. Thin but so sweet that it seeps into every pore in a wave of fruity warmth beckoning more and more of its sampler's attention. You'd have this for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, quickly turning into some shameless alcoholic. It's of little surprise that all of Hell's confectionary is as addictive as it is to humans, that's how fiendkind tends to assert their power over other species. You suppose Lust, as the Ring of desire, has a particular ease creating concoctions of great addictive power.

Your idle reckoning is entirely derailed by the jolt of wetness from your loins, something you expected but couldn't calculate the intensity of, throat burning as you clumsily choke down the whore noise that wanted to flow forth. Maybe you drank too much at a time? How can those two have several glasses of this and look only mildly buzzed?!

Right on cue, Santi reaches to pluck the glass out of your hands. " Aaand that's enough for you. "

" Hah, oh the poor thing! You know that's properly aged, honey, try not to waste it. "

An embarrassing amount of time clearing your throat later, the King pipes up again.

" Ah, I've been meaning to ask, what is it like? " He waves a hand, his head tendril wraps around it fluidly, allowing the demonlord to toy with it.

" The sex? " Santi prods.

" No, the fighting- Of course I'm talking about the sex, you bumbling slut! "

The incubus straightens, eager to talk. " Oh, well- "

" Nuh-uh, quiet. " Vesper's tail nudges Santi into silence. " I know that part. Oh, sex with a perfect match is like pure ambrosia, it's the richest source of energy, a taste so delectable it fries you harder than the cocktail of an orgy of kissless virgins! You can never go back and you'll never have an experience half as pleasurable, it's the greatest gift a concubus can have but also the bane of their search for newer sensuous experiences because it causes obsessive infatuation- Etcetera etcetera... "

The Icon rises much faster than you'd guess his mass could ever allow him to, only to drop to a crawl, gaze piercing into you with an almost violating intensity. " No... " He murmurs sweetly, stopping to squat mere inches from your already overheated body, the chain anchored by his tits swaying hypnotically in front of you. " I want to hear it from you, darling. Regale me! "

Put on the spot like this, you don't actually know what about your perspective can be so appealing to the King, but his tone is authoritative, demanding. You must give an answer.

And so, you allow the hellish alcohol to speak for you, memory drawing upon the moments of your most intimate moments with Santi. The definition of his body, the noises he makes as he partakes of your form, the form you never gave much thought to yet the same one he reveres and coats in his drool. The whispers against your skin that you can never quite make out and the dance of claws on sensitive areas bordering between the sweetest caress and the plunge of a jealous lover.

" I- " You laugh breathlessly. " Well, I didn't know what sex was before I met Santi, real sex, real desire. There isn't a thing he does that I dislike, every time I lay with him, I only wish that it never ended, and I'm thankful he knows when to stop, because I might just tell him to keep going until I draw my last breath. "

You don't know where all of that came from.

The King's wolfish grin now turns shark-like, and he nods ever so fervently, egging you on. Santi has set his own glass down, blinking in bewilderment at your words, until a rumble bursts from his chest, and he seeks to hug you closer to himself.

" I know it sounds cheesy a- and dumb but I always want to try new things in bed with him because I've always felt so appreciated and- Santi makes me feel like I'll always look gorgeous no matter what I have on or what little accidents we have. I never knew sex could be so fun and feel so good... And I guess I only have him to thank for it. "

Santi doesn't say anything, just pulls you into a searing kiss full of tongue and approval. One you get lost in far too quickly, uncaring of your surroundings, or the demonlord ogling the two of you like steaks on a platter.

Maybe the King was looking for something a little more lewd and descriptive, but it seems the drink took you to a more emotional lane. Either way, what you said apparently resonates with the incubus in question, because he beams like a spotlight, eyes bright and smile so full of heated love it might just melt you.

It wasn't always like this. You remember the rocky start of this relationship. It could have turned into something ugly. It could have hurt you badly. Don't think about it.

" Oh- Oh, love does win! " Vesper dramatically rises, pretending to wipe a tear that isn't there. " So romantic, so heartfelt, I could just about write a whole drama from this alone. "

Eyes closed, getting a tongueful from your now overly-excited lover, you feel hands pawing at your body. His, you initially think, squirming playfully as they nudge your barely concealed breasts and squeeze at your tummy, palming at the swell of your ass possessively. Then, what you thought to be two hands become three, become different. It takes you a second of sloppily making out to finally open your eyes and check.

The Icon is now looming above you both, all glowing eyes and slobbering chops, cocks twitching for attention while he hastily reaches to place both hands on each of you. You're barely able to complain before your shorts are pushed aside with your thong and a large hand is palming at you insistently, met with the rush of wetness Santi's saliva has helped create. Speaking of, the high-ranker himself has already parted his legs to allow the King to tease his girth out of his slit, getting leisurely pumped. You watch each other get fondled for a moment, the shock fading into shameless acceptance and a burning need for more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

" Mm, why'd you stop? Enjoy yourselves. "

The other grins, placing a finger under your chin and guiding you into another embrace. This one is slower, more measured, not just to savor the moment but to make a proper show for the sovereign of carnality. Santi works just well enough in tandem with the King's hand to draw out a wanton moan from you, eating it up with his own. Vesper apparently finds this very appealing, sighing his appreciation and rewarding the two of you with more attentive touches.

Your clit is flicked a certain way that forces your legs to jerk, and the situation is fixed when Santi readjusts to hold your leg slightly upwards, encouraging you to slide down a little. Just so, just so... Until Vesper has a finger in you, his index. Then two- His hands are large, larger than the average demon's, this is a stuffing on its own.

Whatever shred of composure you had left is gone, starting to keen and whimper as the demonlord immediately hammers onto the spot that usually has tears welling in your eyes. You don't know what kind of faces you're making, but they're probably not pretty in the wake of such intense stimulus. It feels as if your entire body is throbbing with sensation, the peak of it making your nethers pulse like an epicenter of delight.

Vaguely, you feel someone tug your top down so your tits can bounce free with every thrust upwards, turning to spot Santi rocking into the fist offered to him while he bites his lip to the debauched sight you make. You didn't think you'd be getting off to something like this, but seeing the desperation to use you in his eyes has you fuming in arousal, and likewise, he's loving your helplessly wanton exhibitionism.

" Ahh, she likes that. " The demonlord keenly observes. " Don't you, princess? Like the sight of your pretty incubus fucking my hand like a needy animal because he can't have you yet? Does it turn you on how lost he is in you? Do you think I should make him cum like this? You're both adorable, I'm loving this so much already! "

His depraved purring is the straw that breaks the camel's back, you can only roll your eyes and choke out some kind of plea for mercy before squeezing like a vise around Vesper's fingers and soaking him for all you've got, barely able to breathe in-between the thunderous pulsing of your orgasm. He rides you through it, nice and hard and milking the entirety of it for his own selfish gain, until you're spasming and gasping erratically.

Unfortunately, you missed Santi's own climax, finding him sagging against the seat in a state similar to yours, while the King whorishly sates himself with the mix of your released fluids, sucking and lapping at his hands for every hint of slick and humming pleasantly at the flavor you make together.

" Not bad... Not bad at all. Again, now, I can't wait to see your bond up close! "

You're a little bit confused when he plops himself back down on his massive lounge chair, then taps his thighs invitingly. Santi gets the idea however, tickling and nudging your clothes off you before settling on the monarch's lap.

Vesper hums, rearranging him so Santi's back is to his front, and then you are invited on. The resulting position has Vesper serving as a kind of living support with you seated atop Santi, giving the King a perfect view. Casually rumbling his glee, the King takes hold of your hips and steals any kind of autonomy from you by leading the pace, grinding you against the delectable ridges of Santi's hardness.

Laps are delivered to the side of Santi's face, and you know the mouth on the demonlord's stomach is also sampling around, tendrils closing in to shift between stimulating him and coiling luridly around your bodies like he just can't get enough.

One moment the two of you are locked in an desperate rut against the slow pace of regal hands, the next, you feel the sting of the demon's exquisite girth as you're swiftly impaled, the pain much too quickly blossoming into momentous relief.

It's a frenzy of movement you can hardly process. Maybe it's the effects of that drink, maybe it's just the cacophony of pheromones that being glued to a high-ranker and an Icon produces -You hardly doubt that bracelet is doing anything to protect your poor mind at this point- But you get well and truly lost in it. The world spins, only flashes of the experience register in your muddled brain, goosebumps, a swaying vision, waves of pleasure heightened to such a degree that you cease hearing anything but the muffled echoes of your lover's moans.

In that moment, there's nothing more to reality than the monster in front of you, looking as depraved as you, and leaning into it. Santi drools onto his own chest openly, pupils dilated, eyes relentlessly hypnotic as he swallows every twitch of your tormented form's muscles. No hint of higher thought lies in those acidic green hues, only the beastly impulse to have you, to reduce you to a spasming mess, to make you lose your mind and grow addicted to him.

Faintly, you can hear low whispers in a foreign, harsh tongue, and it never occurs to you that might be the source of your current trance. You don't know what it's doing to you or Santi, and you don't care.

You don't care about anything expect the constant pistoning driving you to a filthy paradise. If the Icon wasn't the one moving your legs, you'd be mush by now, point proven further when your top half simply flops onto the incubus' body, useless.

It must have been about an hour or more when the two of you are stopped, and no matter how gentle the winding down was, you still grunt and whine wordlessly in frustration, met with laughter from the two of them. Santi recovered faster, because of course he did. Looking down to where your bodies meet, you're disgraced with the sight of a sticky mess coating not just your mons and thighs, but plenty of Santi's lower half. It doesn't even reek of sex, you've gone nose blind at this point. It's almost terrifying, you have no idea how many times you orgasmed, or how many times he did for that matter, but the overwhelming evidence is clearly there, and your throat is quite sore. Whether from gasping, screaming or simply breathing through it, you don't know anymore.

Vesper says something to your partner in clear infernal, met with a reply you cannot hope to interpret either, and you're pulled forward to kiss the King, the three of you exchanging lips in a disheveled mess.

By the time you start giggling and breathing hard, Santi sighs.

" We... We should stop for now, no? " There's a mildly guilty look on his handsome features. Probably because you're going to be feeling this for a week.

The demonlord huffs. " Ugh- Fine fine, but only because you two were such a show, the imps flocked to the doors you know? I can feel them peeping. "

The darker demonoid snickers in amusement, reaching out to pet your face and try to ground you in reality, to no avail. You're eventually lifted to a stand, latching onto his arm for support and starting to somewhat ferally bite him in adoration.

Vesper follows suit, look too predatory to mean anything good, and both hands coiled around vastly neglected lengths. Making quick work of himself to the filthy view you and Santi make. He's the one who gulps now.

" I have been very patient however, the least my adorable guests could do is give me a lasting farewell. "

Santi looks like he's about to try to politely renegotiate.

" Pretty please? "

You clap and cackle in enthusiasm, entirely out of your gourd. More, more!

The incubus watches you jump in place, then turns to his old friend. " You have spare regeneration ointments, don't you? "

[appleblueberry-pie]

Honestly trauma bonding is the way to go 😌✨

Reader who adopted a child and loved them more than anything in the world, since she had no family or pets (being spiderwoman is a sacrifice, after all.).

Reader's Green Goblin killed their child brutally in front of her, leaving Reader with immense trauma and depression. (After torturing and then killing GG in the same gruesome way as he did with her child)

Reader who abandons being a Spider-person and goes back to her old job, being a professional gymnast.

Miguel who finds Reader's world, and asks who there isn't a Spider there if the canon event of the radioactive spider biting someone happened long ago.

Miguel who investigating, finds out that Reader is the spider there, however they abandoned their heroic life (mostly because of backlash from the media)

Miguel who one day goes to Reader's house to get answers, first explaining who he is and what the fuck that orange portal is 💀

Miguel understands how Reader feels and explains his backstory, and persuades (forces) Reader to join the Spider Society.

Miguel, that slowly falls in love with Reader and turns into an obsession. Maybe in the future, he can give Reader his kids so they won't have to grieve as much for their dead kids.

You were meant for him.

He shouldn't say that, but no bone or muscle in his entire body disagreed with this statement that he is claiming.

He fell in love with you before he even realized it and happily accepted the fall, knowing just from how you spoke to him, that you know how to love. You love the way that he wants to be loved. And he wants that. He wants you.

He was so goddamn in love with everything about you. He loves the way you speak, the way you carry yourself, the way you look at people, and the way you look at him.

He wants those eyes on him all of the time. So, he tries to work for it.

You looked so tired every single day. Since he found you alone in your apartment of your universe, he knew you held luggage no one else had behind them.

He wanted to at least take half of the weight off of your shoulders. He wanted to brush the midnight tears off of your face. He wanted kiss your callused hands. He wanted to have you.

He truly believes he can fix you.

"There is no fixing me. Nobody can save me."

He had never been so tuned into a conversation before. Mask off, sitting across from you in your living room, on the edge of his seat, staring into your iron eyes. You didn't want to let anyone back in again.

Hearing about your past only made him more determined.

"I can't put that suit back on again.....no. I killed enough people and killed off enough of myself. I don't benefit from that life anymore. Hell, my own city that I fought for doesn't want me anymore. Why the fuck would I even bother trying??" You try to laugh it off and killed the rest of your drink.

"The only person that could make me put that back on is the one I did all of this bullshit for."

You let the silence grow for a little to collect the words building up in your throat. But to speak it was a different battle.

"S/he was mine. S/he was all I had. Every day I had to wake up and go to sleep seeing her/his face, and it's all I needed to continue living another fucking day. And s/he's gone! I thought sparing lives would do me good, and now my babygirl/boy is gone. What the fuck am I supposed to do?" You whispered the words, as if it was forbidden to even speak them aloud.

And every single word you spoke made Miguel feel like he was living in your skin. Every question you asked, everything you said you felt is so close to experience of losing his little girl, it makes him nauseous. He only knew you for a few hours and already wanted to hold you in his arms.

"I can't....I just...can't put that thing back on. I really can't. I'm sorry." Your words slowly turned into a mutter as you fidgeted with your hands.

He doesn't know how many hopeful "yes, you can"s he whispered back to you with comforting (consensual) hugs before you had on that damned suit again and was in the middle of HQ.

His room was quiet. Peaceful, as he typed away on his technology you weren't interested in at all.

You felt so naked in the suit, but for some reason, it made you feel more secure than you'd ever felt these past few years......maybe this would be okay for now.

Miguel looked back at you, seeing you staring off into the distance and stopped typing to place his hand on your shoulder.

You looked up at him with those sad, tired eyes. Just seeing your face as clearly as it was, it continued to give him hope to be the one to support your during your healing process. You clearly needed the help. And if anyone could do it well, he was certain that it would be him.

[drdemonprince]

I've experienced suicidal ideation since I was about 8 years old and got very close to attempting I think 3 times? I'm overall doing pretty well right now and it's been a few years since I seriously considered attempting, but I don't expect the thoughts to ever completely go away. I've got a lot of opinions as to what people can do to help, here are a few thoughts:

1. Just fucking *be there.* The biggest harm reduction tool I use is to just avoid being alone when I feel shit getting bad. Just offering to be around can go such a long way. If you're worried about a friend, ask to do homework together, start watching a show together, ask to come over after work and make dinner together. They may or may not be up to saying yes, but at least they know they have that option if they want it.

2. Relatedly, you can do small things to help them take care of themself. Showering and cleaning and eating vegetables all make me feel better but can also be incredibly daunting. Having a buddy helps. You can bring your friend some good leftovers (that they don't *have* to eat, maybe you just made too much), offer to help them fold laundry or pick up their room together while you chat, or call them before you plan to shower yourself to remind them to shower, too.

3. Send low-pressure reminders that you're thinking of them. Getting a "Hey, how are you doing?" text when I'm really in the thick of it? Awful. Way too much pressure to respond. Getting a "I made a new playlist if u wanna listen"? Huge! Just sending a meme or texting something about a show you both like is a great way to remind a friend you're thinking of them without making it all intense.

4. Don't make a big deal out of someone self harming, and never fucking shame them for it. When I self harm it's a way to divert my overwhelming negative feelings into something that isn't killing myself. It's a coping mechanism, and has genuinely saved my life. You will not get someone to stop self harming by expressing your worry or disapproval. If they want to talk about it, hear them out. Otherwise, it's not your fucking business.

Thank you Devon for opening up this discussion. I hope my experiences can be of some help, and I can't wait to read your piece on this.

This is amazing, thank you so much ♥️

[buckttommy]

hi jack.

what if i told you i’m a slut for well executed mcd actually and i’m listening very intently.

also having thoughts about buck being reunited with tommy’s corpse and he just wants one more minute. just one more minute. he pulls the sheet down to kiss his cleft i think. just one last time.

anyway.

hello, my love

well if you told me that, i would have to tell you that i can't stop thinking about the quiet moments that come after. tommy dies, and buck can't get to him, and that's just—that's just it, you know? tommy's been ripped from this world, the love story is over and it did not end well. but that's just the end of that story, because now... now buck has to begin another one and that one is all about how to cope (or not cope) with this massive, gaping hole in his life. and so we have the quiet moments.

moments where he waits in the hospital lobby for eddie to identify tommy's body (because eddie certainly wasn't going to put buck through that, and he'll take that one for the team if it means sparing him)

moments where he goes home for the first time after. where he sees bits of tommy everywhere, from the dishes he left in the sink, to the jacket he threw across the back of the sofa, to the towel—still damp—from his shower that morning and he just stands in the middle of it all and cannot think or feel a single thing.

moments where he brushes his teeth and does his hair and before the funeral and can't stop thinking how weird it is to go through his morning routine without tommy's quiet presence in the shower or in their bedroom.

and then, of course, the quiet moment—the last moment—buck gets to see his face. even after the morticians have made tommy look normal, he still looks like an off-center, mirror version of himself without that light, that warmth behind his face. but buck pulls up a chair beside the open casket anyway and reaches down and strokes his strokes. it feels waxy and bizarre. tommy's skin, but not. he's used to the feeling of dead flesh, which is a morbid thing to say, but it comes with the job. people live. people die. tommy was always going to die. hell, buck himself is going to die one day. he just wishes — well. it doesn't matter what he wishes. tommy feels both familiar and abnormal under his hands and it's the first thing that makes buck feel something other than numb—it just makes him feel nauseous.

he sits beside the casket and rubs his thumb over that cleft in tommy's chin, back and forth, back and forth, and is just like, "hey babe... yeah. it's been a... shit couple of days. i keep wanting to tell you about it, you know? turn to you or-or pick up the phone to call you, to just, uh, just hear your voice. but you're not—you're never there. you're never there because you're —you're here and that's... that's kind of messing with my head a little bit. you know? it's messing with my head a lot a bit, actually. anyway, uh. this isn't about me, this is about you and i just wanted to say... before everything starts and—i just wanted to say that i, um. i would—i—i—i want to say i'm okay, that i will be okay. but i'm not and i won't be. i want to crawl in there and be with you and let them bury me alive but no one will let me. eddie is sleeping next to me because he thinks i'm going to kill myself overnight and chris is sleeping in the second bedroom because he's scared too, bobby comes over every day to make sure i'm not dead on the floor and to be honest, i just wish they'd all fuck off. i love them but i love you more, and you're — you're still the only person i can say that to. you know? i-i hate the way they love me, i hate the fact that you're gone, i hate that i can't leave without doing this to them, and i hate —" he stops because he was going to say i hate you but that's not true. there's not a single version of existence in which that is true. so he just stops and sighs and gets up. kisses the cleft in tommy's chin and presses their foreheads together. "if you'd given me a chance, i would have joined you," is all he says. "suicide pact or murder-suicide or... fucking whatever. i would have joined you. i still want to. maybe i will. i don't know. i love you. i love you. i said it every day and i still don't think it was enough. i love you, i'll never stop loving you. i'll never stop wanting to love you. i—"

but at that point, people are starting to fill in the church so buck just sighs again. puts the chair back and listens to the preacher give a generic sermon about a man he didn't know, and spends the whole time contemplating the fastest, easiest way to die.

so. yeah that's what i would have to say.

[bucksdaffy]

okay, so i've seen some people claim that tim minear is an avid buddie shipper and that he's slowly but surely laying the groundwork for buck and eddie to become canon in the future and...

i'm just thoroughly confused about this assertion.

i'll preface this by saying i'm very new to the fandom, so i'm prepared to be wrong about this. i'm aware i may lack crucial context because i've been here only so long. also, i don't know tim personally, so i obviously can't speak to his true intentions, but i'll make my case anyway.

i'll cite two RECENT comments by tim that i assume people might draw this conclusion from:

1. [?: There is a sect of the fandom that just wants 9-1-1 to be the Buck and Eddie show, and any cut that removes a second of them is going to get the same reaction. Nothing short of renaming the show "Christopher's Two Dads" is going to make them happy.] T: I totally get that. I even appreciate it. Which explains the entire first act of last night's episode. I kind of did for the Buck/Eddie fans (I mean I really do it for myself in the end). I just thought... they'd like it? Shrug. I liked it, so whatever.

2. Minear tells Rolling Stone that he hasn’t just been aware of fan reactions, he’s actually changed storylines in the past to avoid being accused of queerbaiting. But rather than help, he says it made the show worse. “Nobody wants to be accused of queerbaiting so I kind of stopped writing those characters together. And I think it hurt the show because I was so afraid to be accused of something that I wasn’t going where I would naturally go with the stories,” Minear says. “I just decided that I just have to write the thing that I think is right. I just have to be honest with the story I’m telling and let the chips fall where they may.”

now, i may be biased, but this doesn't read to me like he plans on buddie endgame at all.

while it's clear he loves the bond between buck and eddie and enjoys highlighting it in the show, saying he totally wants them to end up together feels like a reach.

he discusses being accused of queerbaiting in the past, which led him to backtrack a little and stop writing buck and eddie together. how does this suggest he did it because he wants buddie to become canon? if that were his intention he could have continued to drop more (apparent!) hints that buck and eddie may love each other in a non-platonic way. he wouldn't care about the accusations of queerbaiting so much, because he would be planning to make them canon all along. sure, there are external constraints that could prevent this from ever materializing, but that doesn't mean he couldn't write the dialogue in a clearly ambiguous way so that once he gets a pass and everyone else involved is on board with it, he could confirm that "yeah, you were right; it was a good ol' friends-to-lovers slow burn trope all along. congrats!!" no. instead he backtracked because he didn't want anyone to think he was writing buddie as anything other than a platonic relationship. that's it. but he eventually realized it doesn't really matter because people are going to think what they want to think regardless. and he obviously loves buck and eddie's friendship so he might as well just make the most out of it at this point. and if he ever feels like maybe it is a good time to turn their friendship into something more because it feels right for story, he'll go for it. but if not, he won't.

i see a lot of people claim buddie is a six-season-long slow burn, being carefully crafted right now for future canonization. and they say tim basically confirmed this. but i really can't see his comments being a confirmation of the sort.

if there are any quotes i'm missing that suggest otherwise, i would love to go through them. so if anyone's aware of any, please don't hesitate to hit me up.

but at the moment i believe y'all are just setting yourselves up for disappointment.

[spaceshipkat]

here, have a collection of clegan fic recs!! not every author will be tagged because i'm not aware of their blogs as they aren't linked in the fics' notes/ao3 author profile. if you're an author of one of these fics and you see this post, let me know so i can tag you!

naturally this got long so under a cut it goes!

Touching by FreeLove/smallMar

"Gale wonders, not for the first time, when it was that Bucky started affecting him so. When was the first time his stomach dropped at the sight of Bucky’s smile? When did he start feeling the emptiness of the rack next to his when Bucky is on a late night out? When was the first time he felt his skin tingle under the casual, friendly touch of Bucky’s fingers? He doesn’t have an answer. All he knows is that one day, from his bunk, he looked up at Bucky, silhouetted in the early morning Texan sun, gazing out of a window in their barracks, the light streaming down his naked torso, and the sight took his breath away." January 1943, six months from deployment to Europe. At Kearney Airfield, Nebraska, Gale's feelings for John threaten to break him, until he finds that they're not as unrequited as he thought.

it just published a day or two ago, but goddddd this one!!! absolutely filled with yearning and angst set in a pre-canon setting. can't recommend it enough.

I'll be coming home, wait for me by FreeLove/smallMar

“What got you so riled up with the Brits earlier, Buck?” John asks suddenly, and Gale’s breath hitches. Either the walk has sobered Bucky up, or he was never as intoxicated as he was trying to appear. “You noticed?” Gale shoots back, genuinely surprised. His blood had been boiling, it’s true, but he didn’t think he’d let it on. “Of course I noticed, you’re my best friend. And your fists were so tight you looked ready to punch those guys yourself,” Bucky says easily, and something moves in Gale’s chest, something fond and warm that he instinctively wants to hold close and cherish. “We’re losing our boys up there and that prick acted like we’re not fighting for him, too,” he replies, and though it’s the truth, it’s not the whole truth. “Hm. Somehow it seemed about more than that.” After a night at the pub, something stirs inside Gale that he's unwilling to put a name to. But as time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult to ignore.

i've reread this one a frankly embarrassing number of times, but the getting together is just so! lovely! and i lovelovelove the dive into Gale's headspace throughout episode 2.

One of your Girls by @soliloquy-dawn

“What good are you over there? I want you here.” They’ve done this numerous times before, back in flight school. Bucky cosied up to his side in bed, the scruff on his cheek scraping over Gale’s collarbone. It only happened when the nights were cold, and Bucky was sloshed. Plausible deniability. In what Gale does now, they would be hard-pressed to find deniability of any kind. Both of them eagerly ignore that Bucky is not drunk enough, and that the woefully public nature of their surroundings in no way resembles the safety of their shared room back in Texas. Climbing into the cot, Gale tries to temper his rapidly beating heart. Bucky will find a way to snug close enough to plaster his ear to his chest. He will hear it, but won’t comment—skirting the line, never to cross it. Or, Gale is jealous of Bucky's girls.

the fic i read just before deciding i'd try my hand at writing clegan fic myself. but oh my god the yearning in this!!!! "Because you're mine. You should be mine."?????? like fuck me i am but a simple bisexual dealing with mota brainrot!!!!

in our bedroom after the war by @stereobone

After the war, Bucky and Gale reunite to fix up a house. They end up finding a life together.

look i've been a fan of stereobone from their good omens days, so seeing them write mota fic? dream come true. and when that mota fic fucking wrecks me? so much the better.

Obligate Mutualism by bowhuntress

"They had a strained conversation after mail call, all those months ago, walking slowly across the barren, muddy ground, and John wouldn’t look at him when he told him he was afraid that people would only ever know the person he was becoming. Gale could see it hanging over him, then: the spectre of the person John thought so diminished and so unworthy of being known. The person he was so afraid of becoming. And Gale thought, back then ‘what kind of person would not want to know every aspect of him? What kind of person would not love every version of this man?’" Or: Gale, through it all.

this is another one i've reread an ungodly number of times. i just LOVE seeing the details of the Stalag Luft III and watching how Gale and John keep each other going. it's just SO fucking touching, and the reunion back at Thorpe Abbotts? fuck me.

Breathe Me In (Exhale Slow) by @johnslittlespoon

Gale’s boot taps restlessly, knees bent to half–hunch over them, only his lower back leaning against the wall of the plane. He picks at the skin of baby–soft lips, staring out to the edge of the wing with glazed over eyes, and John’s heart twists. He can think of a hundred and one ways to distract him, but not a single word of reassurance. He’s not good at that sort of thing; that’s Gale’s area of expertise. He feels useless. “Here,” he murmurs, holding out his cigarette.

it's a fucking shotgunning first kiss fic. on a b-17. obviously i have to recommend this one. do yourself a favor and go read it.

dear john by @forasecondtherewedwon

The Regensburg-Schweinfurt mission changes John. What Gale can't say aloud, he puts in the letters he writes to John in his head.

six words: "Thank you again for my bicycle." Why does this one line fuck me up so very much? idk man! it just does!!

bomber’s moon by @ww2yaoi

Gale goes with John to London. Somebody should have told them there was a war on.

the confession!!!! on the bronze lions!!!!!!! ahem. look, it's a gorgeous fic with some excellent smut and Gale and John are so fucking sweet for each other. do yourself a favor and read it.

back home where you're from, that's the measure of a man by wolfhalls

Something sharp and possessive flares up in him, and it must be written all over his face judging by the way John’s mouth curls up at the corners. “We should—” Gale begins. Since he met John, he has become familiar with the distinct difference between should and whatever ends up happening anyway. (or: Gale falls in love. It's a shame there's a war on.)

the very first clegan fic i read naturally needs to be included. the author has John and Gale's voices down so perfectly, and the established relationship is so lovely. the absolute sweetness between John and Gale is just [chef's kiss]

flak-happy, fancy-free by mercess (aka yours truly)

The war is over, but some questions remain about where Gale and John go from here. ----- Gale’s not sure who he’ll be without the war, without the Hundredth, without a B-17. But he knows he won’t be Buck without Bucky. Won’t be himself without John. Perhaps that’s why John tried to slip away unnoticed tonight, why he came out here and tucked himself into the copilot’s seat. An attempt to sever a limb, one he knows he can’t take home with him. They’ll hang up their dog tags, box up their flight jackets, try to forget the rumble of a nine-cylinder engine and the buzz of a voice in your ear and a blue, blue sky. Gale doesn’t know how to tell John that a life without him would be like never feeling the sunlight again.

idk man, i'm just really proud of this one. set during episode 9, it features John and Gale finally doing something about their feelings. and yes, i've reread my own fic an ungodly number of times and i've been guaranteed that it fucks readers up as much as it fucked me up. (don't worry, there's a happy ending. i can't write anything else.)

i'm also working on another fic from John's POV, so y'know, keep an eye out for that if you like my writing!

this is by no means an exhaustive list (it's not even all the fics i have bookmarked) but it's long enough, so i'll leave it here! i'm sure i'll be making another one of these posts before long.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Angst to Fluff, Forced Marriage, Jealousy, Self-deprecation, Self-hatred, Implied Yandere Jinwoo ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I've always hid everything from you; and for that, I hate myself a lot ] ¡! ❞

There was an awkward air around the two of you due to the fact that it was an arranged marriage. It was a loveless union with the two of you. You had been there, you know how Jinwoo rose from being a placeholder to the world's most hailed hunter. And he had a secret, a secret that was you— His wife that he kept hidden from everyone else "I'm back" Jinwoo said as he went inside your shared apartment, his gaze as languid and empty like always. He felt cold, cold like he always had been.

You expected it in a way, after all, you're both arranged by your parents for some reason and even now you still treat each other like a pair of strangers just forced to share a house.

When he was an E-ranker, Jinwoo still had some courage to talk with you no matter how awkward and shy he gets. But after his accident in one E-ranked dungeon— There was a visible shift in the air around the both of you.

Jinwoo started to feel more distant. The more he grew, the more handsome he became— He felt more distant.

It was as if he was a star gleaming in your lonely dark sky, a star so close and yet so far.

Many times you tried to get his attention, but the blank look on his face made your heart shut down and end up avoiding him instead.

As he rose to fame, you became proud of him. Wanting to extend your congratulations but never got the chance since he is always busy with work or running off somewhere for some reason.

With the limelight shining directly on top of his head. The world is now aware of all his glory and his perfections.

His perfect grey eyes that are seemingly plucked from the finest jewels, his once childish and wimpy face had seemingly gone through such puberty that he is now a complete man, his features are perfectly angled, his demeanour of being distant added more to his allure.

With that spotlight came the eyes of many people, eyes that either praised him, hated him, but most importantly,... Eyes that yearned to have him as theirs.

It was fine at first since you had expected it.

But the more people loved Jinwoo, the more insecure and lonely you would get.

It was slowly eating at your head. Clawing your already insecure heart.

But why are you throwing a tantrum like this anyway? After all, you and your husband aren't even meeting eye-to-eye literally and figuratively.

When was the last time you two had ever sat down for a meal together?

Have you ever been on a date anyway?

Honeymoon? Never.

Jinwoo has never touched you affectionately, the only time he ever kissed you was in your wedding ceremony.

But even then that kiss was forced by both of you, maybe Jinwoo had secretly wiped his lips off when you weren't looking at the time.

You're not even sleeping in the same room.

Why are you being selfish when you are not the apple of his eye?

What are you trying to prove here?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

As you sulked on the couch, the tv was on and playing the live interview that Jinwoo is currently on.

You listened attentively as Jinwoo was asked questions and answered. You can't help but chuckle bitterly whenever you hear stuff you never knew about Jinwoo.

It made you feel more pathetic, more disgusted at yourself, more hateful at the fact that you’re not a worthy wife since you don’t even know the most basic thing about your supposed husband.

As you felt yourself sinking into your own depression— You heard a question that made your heart drop in an instant:

“So, hunter Sung,” The host muses politely with an excited grin on their face.”When do you plan to court Miss Cha Hae-in?”

Your hand instinctively reached for the remote beside you and turned off the tv.

You didn’t want to hear his answer. You knew the answer and you didn’t want to know if you were correct or what. You don’t want to know whatever the hell he’s going to say.

Of course,

You should have expected this in the first place.

His embrace was never for you in the first place. Your connection was nothing more formed from a crudely tied knot that is tangled pathetically. It was obvious that the threads were tied when they shouldn’t be in the first place. 

Jinwoo’s affections were never bequeathed upon you, because it suits to be bestowed on someone as great as Cha Hae-in herself. After all, she is a brilliant saintess that everyone adored.

Everything about her is simply perfection.

Pretty, strong, a kind soul, and most importantly a strong hunter who can fight alongside Jinwoo in dire times.

You? What are you in all that?

That person’s adorations that you yearn so much can never be bestowed upon your pitiful soul. The only thing you can ever receive from him are empty grey orbs that seemingly wrap you around in sharp vines. That distant and cold look prickle at your skin and mostly at your heart that has already been scarred with this loveless bind.

The more you love him, the more painful everything is. Living with your unreciprocated yearning was clawing at your very being. It was as if you were running in a black void barefoot with nowhere to run to. You’re only reaching your hands out into the empty abyss ahead of you with some semblance of hope that maybe someone would reach out and yank you out of the darkness you have drowned in for so long.

A part of you wished those hands would be your beloved’s, that it would be Jinwoo’s hands tenderly holding your cold palms.

That maybe for once his tender voice would grace your ears. That for once you could call him your husband.

But even with your wishes, all you have are your meaningless daydreams and prayers.

Day by day, you endured all the wounds that are carved out into your pathetic beating heart. 

As your eyes glistened with tears, you choke up in all your pent up sadness and sob into the air with all your heart.

Perhaps your pain is from the fact that your head has been hurting all day despite taking medications already. But now, with the added misery of knowing you don't deserve your husband makes you more depressed.

You just wanted to disappear completely.

You wanted to rip your heart out so that you could no longer feel the painful ache in your chest.

You yearned for the sweet release of subjecting yourself into eternal sleep.

As you cried your heart out, you suddenly felt a pair of unfamiliar arms wrapping around your frame.

Your eyes wouldn’t process everything for a while until they eventually did adjust.

Once your eyes cleared, you could see some ebony black locks from your view. As that image translated in your eyes, your nose would catch a waft of a distinctive aroma that you can’t quite describe. It was somewhere between a floral sound and something that you can't quite put a finger on since it’s so unique on it’s own. 

“Sssh” A familiar voice hushes you, “It’s alright, it’s alright”

It would only register that it’s the person you’ve been missing after a few more rubs at the back of your head.

It was Jinwoo himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jinwoo apologises over and over again as he buries his lips on the side of your head. “It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault.”

Why was he apologising anyway? He kept saying a strand of sorries and all that and it made you cry your heart out even more.

Jinwoo would feel a tug in his chest, a type of pain he didn’t want to have but he knew deserved because of the pain he was putting you through.

He had never been honest with you, he never tried to ever grow close to you. Instead, he just pushed you away.

He had all the power he had, he had all the money and fame and yet in the face of your broken sobs and tear-streaked features— He became utterly powerless and helpless.

“Look at me, look at me” Jinwoo coaxes you ever so lovingly as he swipes your strands off of your pretty face. “Please look at me”

His gentle begging eventually caught your attention enough to finally see his gaze again.

The normally empty grey orbs were now uncharacteristically warm and sweet, with a bit of trembling in his look in which he tries to mask off.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m not courting anyone.” Jinwoo says firmly but sweetly. “I’m not going with her, she’s just a colleague. Nothing more nothing less.”

You wanted to ask Jinwoo how he knew that, but your words were instead swallowed up by your sobs and making you babble out incoherent things.

But even with your messy expressions, Jinwoo was still patient with you and instead pressed your foreheads against each other.

“I never…” Jinwoo sighs, taking a deep gulp as he starts to explain his size of the story.

He wanted to end the misunderstandings once and for all.

“I never hated you, it’s my fault for treating you like trash for the past years instead of adoring you like a proper husband, and instead I was blinded by my job and entirely lost sight of you” He takes a heavy sigh, the tone of his voice completely remorseful of his actions. “But that doesn’t justify how much of a jerk I am towards you. For that, I’m sorry. I’m so… So Sorry— And no.”

Jinwoo suddenly butts in, interrupting your words. “Just because we are married by paper doesn’t mean I have the right to treat you the way I did. Please, please don’t ever… Ever… Look down on yourself because of this. I'll always choose you regardless of who the world offers to me in a golden platter. I'll choose you.”

He gently swipes his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the pearl-shaped tears adorning your precious face.

“How about we start again, hm?” Jinwoo suggested with a loving smile on his handsome features as he stretched his palm out, revealing a pair of rings with brilliant gemstones that gleamed as it illuminated with the touch of light, with the meek and . “This time, I’ll stop being a jerk around you. Let’s start slow and steady, I won’t hide things from you anymore I promise. That is,... If you are willing to try again with me?”

When you nod your head in agreement, Jinwoo smiles gently before slipping the ring into your finger and leaning down to kiss it— As if he was casting a spell or some sort.

Or maybe he is making a quiet promise that from now on, he will clear your mind of any sort of doubt of anything regarding that you are undeserving of your position as his wife.

Jinwoo tugs you closer to his chest, letting you cry into his chest more while his fingers return to playing with the back of your head.

“So, hunter Sung,” The host muses politely with an excited grin on their face.”When do you plan to court Miss Cha Hae-in?” “... A wife.” Jinwoo mutters, his fists balling up as his jaw clenched from both anger and the shamelessness of the question. “Pardon?” The host blinks, confused at Jinwoo’s words before “Ah so do you—” “Don’t force words into my mouth.” Jinwoo says strictly, his grey eyes gleaming a terrifying colour of violet. “I said, I have a wife waiting for me at home. And that person is not the respectable Miss Cha Hae-in.” “Mr Sung I—” The host was once again interrupted by Jinwoo’s words. “I would appreciate it if hosts such as yourself stop forcing your rumours onto people like me” He says, with his patience growing even thinner the more he spends time on this couch that isn’t even comfortable to hang out on. “May I remind all of you that I am not a celebrity to be hailed and fawned over, I’m a hunter and I’m only here for formalities. I’m not here to satisfy your goddamn thirsts for drama.” “My lord,” Igris’s voice calls to his master urgently. “Your wife…” “What’s going on?” Jinwoo replies immediately telepathically. “My liege’s beloved is currently unstable and crying uncontrollably” Igris explains “They are currently viewing this… Show of some sort but turned off the screen after the question has been asked.” Jinwoo’s heart dropped at Igris’s report. His expression was pale as white as a sheet as the hunter stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else better to go than wasting my time here” Jinwoo says, immediately disintegrating into the shadows to teleport to where his lover is. Though normally teleporting takes just a fraction of a second— That fraction suddenly felt like an eternity as his mind raced. His worries for the past few weeks have finally manifested into full fruition. He knew that his fame was both beneficial and detrimental to his already nonexistent relationship with his wife. His wife who had always been there. Despite not exchanging any words with each other, his wife had always stuck by his side. He gave them the choice to leave and have a better life. And yet, they had stayed with him. They have seen him at his worst, their faith in him unmoving like a steady mountain. Yet, he has never once reciprocated their devotion. He mostly shied away from trying to make a move on them.  He had long been planning to start a conversation with them, to ask if they would give them a chance to actually fix their relationship as a couple. Jinwoo had prepared rings too, he found the stones in an S-ranked gate and thought that his wife must like it and commissioned a jeweller to make matching wedding rings with stones. He wanted something elegant and simple, just like his wife.  His beloved that never asked him for anything, his wife that never threw a tantrum towards him. Jinwoo often wished his wife was more selfish, he wished they would demand things from him, he wished that his wife could yell at him and tell him things instead of walking on eggshells around each other. He craved to have a connection with them.  Jinwoo badly wanted to be affectionate with his beloved.

And now having them in his arms, he felt both victorious and an odd mix of sadness. He held you closer to his chest, cradling and kissing the crown of your head. He loves you so much that he wants to rip everyone to shreds because of this moment but he also wants to just hold you closer to his own chest.

All you have to do is ask really, you just have to tell him what you want and he would have heads rolling at the tip of your feet. That host that dared to ask that question, maybe he should murder that bastard for causing you to wail like this.

However, that bastard also helped in opening this situation that the both of you needed to have.

“Huuu….” Jinwoo sighs, leaning his head back on the wall before kissing your temple over and over. “I’m here now, so don’t worry. I’m going to love you the way I should have been from the start, I’ll pamper you so much so that you’ll become a spoiled brat. Even if you throw things at me, I don’t care. I’ll rip my chest open and offer you my heart because you are my wife. Whatever you want me to do, I will do it”

[afreakingdork]

Yeah, I'm not taking this sitting down. Man, I really am not trying to have beef out here, but I refuse to have my good fucking name tarnished. To make a public post about me? Yeah, I'm going to share my side. The facts are as such:

I approached wolf on 12/20/23 about a NSFW commission inspired by one of their works. It would feature my sona and an aged up Donnie. As they mentioned, our initial conversation was good. We went back and forth during the sketch phase and I requested quite a lot of edits. I asked if I could pay them for these corrections.

it was right after this that wolf asked about Donnie's battle shell since it wasn't illustrated.

After this message, I did not hear back from wolf after 2/9/24 until I sent them a follow-up message 3/27/24

I did not hear back from wolf until today 5/6/24.

Now I cannot share the images of the art I received because it is NSFW, but I can tell you that the grey from my sona's body appeared to be missing. The ears of my sona were grey, but the body only looked yellow. Donnie was missing his purple arm marks, and his knee pads were still the same only now they were colored in black along with his mask. From here I will just send the conversation in its entirety.

For reference, this was the reference sheet they had.

I was then sent two pieces where the grey on my sona was very obvious and Donnie's markings were now present with the following text.

Now again, I wish I could show you the pieces, but I can't. I was offered a 50% refund for my troubles, but I was not interested in taking it because wolf had already done all the work.

I will say that I was extremely frustrated with the whole affair so the next part I will admit was a bit salty because while corrections had been made, I wasn't able to give any input so there were still mistakes in my sona's colors (specifically the underside of the tail was yellow instead of white and my grey arm had one side yellow) and Donnie's mask was still black. The following is our last correspondence on my blog.

This would have been the end of it for me. Except, I did not get the email. I waited in hopes it would come in, but none did. Since I was blocked I was forced to reach out from one of my side blogs @thisgoesouttoyoubaby which feel free to check. it's my reblog sideblog that I use to send my bestie memes. It dates back YEARS and is not used for spam.

As you can see I was blocked here.

Now I have been refreshing my email feed waiting. I know emails can take time, but I have no way to confirm if I'm getting my work because I was immediately blocked on thisgoesouttoyou with no response.

So I used another sideblog, this time @plowingon which you can again, freely search, its not a spam blog, but a blog I once made to record the live of my old german shepherd I had years ago when he was getting older.

And wouldn't you know it, I got my first email from wolf at

Coincidentally, only after I sent my last message to them.

Now I'm not interested in hurting wolf's reputation. I think you should still commission them if you'd like. I still am a fan of their art. I have no ill will, but fuck if I will stand by as someone tells me that I won't pay an artist. I never even said i wouldn't pay. I was just frustrated because they wouldn't follow their own three correction rule. They allowed me no recourse, and then they were petty before I could even confirm that I received the email.

Could I have been nicer?

Of course.

Could I have been more clear?

Absolutely.

But there is no world in which I tried to gaslight anyone. I pride myself on my honesty. I was not shy when paying them. I sent payment before we even began. I offered to pay them more and acknowledged I was a needy customer halfway through. So I apologize for this long post, but I wanted to make sure all of this was visible because how dare you call me a scammer, wolf.

You disappoint me.

[literaryavenger]

Stargazing

Summary: You and Bucky are spending some time together under the stars.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: None, just a whole lot of fluff. Nerd Bucky. Nerd Reader. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word count: 1K because I'll kick myself I can't make anything short.

Prompt: we're sitting on your roof at midnight and you're pointing out every constellation but out of every star, you shine the brightest.

A/N: I wrote this story in like two hours, so bear with me. I don't know a lot about Astronomy, so I googled everything I put on here. I do know my fair share of Mythology but I realise some things may be wrong or just simply different from things you know, who knows Mythology knows there are a lot of versions of the same story, anything I wrote here are the version I've learned over the years, so no hate, but I'm always open to talk about it more if anyone wants to. Always respectfully, of course. Also, I wrote and posted this from my phone so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.

Masterlist

“And see those three stars that make an angle?” Bucky points up to them. “That's Coma Berenices.”

One thing not many people know about Bucky Barnes is his love of Astronomy.

Back in the 40s he loved studying the constellations, learning as much as he could. So, after he regained control of his mind and joined the Avengers, he spends his free time catching up in all things space related he's missed since.

You have never been particularly interested in Astronomy, but seeing how passionate your boyfriend gets when it comes to it, you can never say no when he asks you to stargaze with him.

That's why you've spent countless times now in the position you are right now: Laying on a blanket next to Bucky on the roof of the Avengers Compound, looking at the stars and listening to him tell you all about them.

“That one's Cassiopeia…” He points to it. “That one's Lacerta…”

You giggle a little at the funny name and look at him. “Lacerta?”

“It means ‘the Lizard’.” He informs you with a grin while looking at you too.

“Of course it does.” You say playfully and look back up.

“That one is Camelopardalis…” He traces the stars to give you an idea of the shape.

“Now you're just making things up.” You tease him while looking back at his face to find him glaring playfully at you.

“It means giraffe.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Alright, you little geek.” You smile at his indignified scoff but you can see he's fighting a smile, and losing.

You look at each other with goofy smiles for a moment before you softly say, “What else?” prompting him to go on.

He looks back at the stars for a moment before he starts tracing another constellation.

That's something Bucky loves to do, like the most intricate game of connect the dots ever, and he wins every time.

Sometimes you've even made it into a game, trying to find all the stars in a constellation before the other, but he has the unfair advantage of actually knowing them all. But you always have fun playing, even if you end up behaving like children.

And looking at him right now, his eyes on the stars and his hand up to trace them with his finger, you can't take your eyes off of him and you know, out of all the constellations, he shines the brightest.

“That…” He traces the biggest constellation he's shown you tonight. “is the Ursa Major.”

His voice snaps you out of it and you look back up. He's shown you these same constellations time and time again, every time with the same passion and every time you listen intently, just enchanted by his voice.

“And that one…” He traces another one. “is Pegasus.”

Huh, that was a new one. You look at it while tilting your head. “Pegasus?”

“Yeah, that one I don't know what it means.” He chuckles, about to move on to another set of stars when you interrupt him.

“Pegasus is a winged horse from Greek Mythology.” You say before you can stop yourself.

Mythology is something you've always found fascinating and, much like Bucky with Astronomy, you've always tried to learn as much as you could about it.

Unlike Bucky, you've always kept this small passion to yourself, which is why Bucky is looking at you right now with a confused yet amused raise of his eyebrow.

“What? Can't a girl know a random fact?” You say playfully while looking back up at the stars to hide your slight blush.

“So that's all it is? A random fact?” Bucky asks, his eyes still on you and you know he can tell there's more to it. He knows you pretty well, after all.

“Maybe…” You say playfully, finally looking at him with a small smile.

“Tell me more about it?” He says softly, not pushing you to talk but letting you know he's open to listen if you want.

“Well…” You say quietly after a moment, looking back at the stars as you think about what to tell him. “Pegasus was born from Poseidon-”

“Poseidon?” He interrupts you with a small frown. “The god of the ocean?”

“Yeah…” You chuckle, looking at him. “He's also known as the God of Horses.”

“He is?” He frowns more. “Why?”

“Well, according to Greek mythology he invented them.” You explain with a smile. “He created them out of foam from the ocean in order to be elected as the patron god of a new city. But Athena created an olive tree and the citizens saw that as more useful and chose her, naming their city Athens.”

Bucky looks at you with awe, his entire attention on you now as you enthrall him with your words.

“And he was the father of Pegasus?” Bucky asks you, just wanting to hear more of your voice.

“Yeah, Poseidon was his father and Medusa his mother.” You look back up at the stars, trying to  recall more details of the story. “He was born when Medusa got decapitated by Perseus. The blood from her neck fell into the ocean and, out of the white foam, came Pegasus, along with Chrysaor.”

“Chrysaor?” He asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Another horse with wings?”

“No, he was a boar with wings.” You correct him. “Chrysaor comes from a name that means ‘he who has a golden sword’. Pegasus doesn't have a meaning, but it symbolizes divine inspiration or the journey to Heaven, because…”

You keep talking about Greek mythology as you look at the stars, Bucky’s eyes on you the whole time.

He finally understands why you love hearing him talk about Astronomy so much even though you have virtually no interest in it.

The way you talk about Mythology, the knowledge and the passion you show… It's breathtaking to see, and Bucky never wants to stop listening to you at this moment. 

If you were looking at him you'd see the same look you have on your face when you look at him talking about the stars, the same look he has when he's looking at the stars…

He may love to stargaze, but the biggest, brightest of them all is laying right beside him, and that’s definitely his favorite.