#And while Home is still morally dubious

[paper-starz]

WELCOME HOME THEORY 2: The Theory Strikes Back

Good evening, gentlemen, gentleladies, and gentlethems,

Or Good night

Or even good morning,

Whenever you are, I humbly come to you all with another theory.

This time, its our favorite morally questionable sentient house, Home!

So strap in, buckle up, cause I have STUFF TO SAY.

THIS WILL BE VERY LONG AND IT WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE UPDATE!!

Alright, so to begin, what the HECK is going on with Home?

They are one of the most mysterious characters in Welcome Home, we don't know much if not anything at all. And what we do know... wellllll......

Yeah definitely not menacing at all.....

The only thing that we do know of Home is well… ^ This and the fact that it and Wally are sentient.

Ok, let’s backtrack. HOMES SENTIENT???

Yep! While it was implied in the first update that it was aware of us, this handy-dandy audio clip confirms that Home (like Wally) is aware of “You” (Whoever this “You” person may be. Either literally us or the Question Answerer).

Now, what exactly Home is saying is still up for debate. Some say that it’s “Help Me” while others say it’s “Hello”. (It’s incredibly hard to know what’s exactly dots and dashes with Homes banging) but one thing is for sure, Home is communicating with us.

“AHHHH HOW SCARY! THE CREEPY DEMON HOUSE IS GONNA KILL US” D:

And that’s where you’re wrong, dear viewer. While Home is clearly morally dubious and incredibly suspicious, like Wally, I don’t think it’s necessarily evil.

Take for instance this link right here. It’s an honestly cute lil audio of Wally singing to Home. But while that is adorable, it’s the ending that I really wanna focus on.

Wally: …Do you like it? Home: *Creaks* (it’s Morse code again! Spells out IDO) Wally: Thats good… I think…

Ok why did I bring this old little clip up? Oh ya know… no reason… OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT WALLY CAN’T UNDERSTAND HOME ANYMORE!!!

Ok, I know whatcha thinkin’ “Why not anymore?”

Take a listen at another audio clip, this time it’s a secret one!!

The clip is about Barnaby and Home having a conversation with one another! But if you listen real closely… Home is not speaking in Morse code! It’s their own lil Home language, still consisting of creaks and bangs… yet Barnaby doesn’t seem to have any trouble understanding Home.

So how come Wally can’t understand Home and yet Barnaby can?

It’s because Wally’s sentient now. He’s getting more real. More human. Cartoon logic does not apply to Wally anymore! To us, Home is speaking in gibberish! Since it’s gibberish to us, then it’s gibberish to Wally!

And Home knows that, so it does the next best thing and tries using another language to hopefully communicate better. Now that I’m listening to the first audio clip again (so-below), it makes sense why Home is “speaking” slowly. It’s not used to communicating that way. It’s hard to tell their dots from their dashes, their bangs from their creaks, and it’s pauses are sometimes too long and too short at the same time! In a weird way, Home kinda has an accent when speaking in Morse code.

It’s kinda sweet just how hard Home is trying to communicate with Wally and us. Makes ya forget that Home has a weird portal and a flesh heart inside of them.

“WAIT WHAT?!?” (<- That’s you)

Yeah, remember when I said the more sentient something gets the more “real” they get?

Yeah, it’s also been happening with Home too. Go on any doodle audio file, and you can hear assumably Home’s heart beating away. You can hear it very clearly in this audio right here! I doubt the Playfellow Workshop made Home with a literal BEATING heart, but hey, Home is where the heart is I guess…

And now, the portal thing.

“Since when did Welcome Home ever had a portal??”

Oh since the very beginning actually!

First updated “portal” picture

Many people (including yours truly) theorized that this swirly spiral was a portal to the real world. It seems that we have more evidence to support this theory too!

First updated portal (shown left) and second updated portal (shown right)

Hey…. Wait a second…. Is it just me or it the portal getting…. Bigger?

The first update it was small, even the black goo wasn’t as bad… on the second picture, the spiral is INCREDIBLY large, and now the goo is coating the trees.

Well, isn’t that ominous.

"But wait. If Home has a portal... where is this portal even going?"

Both portals have the same black goo surrounding it, the same white eye in the center and the same swirl.

It's going to the Restoration team. And look at where the portal is placed. It's on the ceiling. "As above"

and the one in Welcome Home is "So below"

So perhaps the portal in Home is on the floor... This CANNOT be a coincidence I swear!!

With weird goo covering everything. And like, thats not all!

If you compare the items that the Restoration team uploaded onto the site in the first update and on the second update, you'll notice that the items have grown significantly larger.

At first, it was just envelopes with paper crammed inside of it. As if the person was trying to cram in as much information as possible. It isn't neat.

About us page: All of the paper materials tucked away inside the envelopes we have received are usually crammed together and covered in paint and ink.

Now, in the second update, the items have grown larger.

These items are much larger than mail, and I believe it also has something to do with how much bigger the portal has gotten.

Pretty soon, we might have full-grown puppets jumping in. But now that begs the question... Why is Home doing this?

Well, I think it's because Home really wants to help Wally.

As you inspect the website, there's a bunch of evidence that Wally is growing increasingly desperate for some other kind of sentient connection. It's been growing so much that it starts to get worrying...

Let's go back to the conversation between Home and Barnaby, notice anything weird? Not really? Well, I noticed that every bug audio file was in the perspective of Wally. Here, Wally is just staring at his half-finished painting, even Barnaby comments on this and finds it odd that Wally stopped painting.

It looks to me that Wally was dissociating. There, but not really there. He's been disconnected from reality because it feels unreal to him.

And Home sees that. As soon as the conversation turns to Wally, Home goes dead silent. When Wally still does not respond, Home releases a series of quick creaks and bangs to try and get Wally's attention. It doesn't work. Once Barnaby says Wally's name, it snaps him out of his dissociative state.

And Home is worried about Wally.

It gives a whole new look to the infamous "so-below" image.

Home isn't looking at Wally, it's looking straight at us. Eyes shaking as Wally seems like he's begging. Home doesn't look malicious here, Home looks like it's begging us to do something to calm Wally down because it physically can't anymore.

Home and Wally don't have a lot, if not any facial expressions at all. And shaky eyes in cartoons are a good indicator that someone is scared.

And if Home (in this link) is saying "Help Me", then no wonder! Heck, even the freaking disk is shaking!

Home is reaching out to us for help because it can't comfort Wally anymore and I don't know about you but that is SAD.

Two puppets that recently gained sentience can't even get the comfort out of each other because they can't communicate anymore :(

So, all Home can do is wait and watch Wally.

And if help won't come to you, well, having a handy-dandy portal is very helpful!

You can go to the help instead.

[smileysuh]

penance

🌙 staring. Cheol & Jeonghan & Joshua & Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress. “When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, orgies, 3some, 4some, 6some, creampies/filling kink, cum play, dirty talk, praise, degradation, fucking in weird places (a tank & church & outside & bathrooms), multiple sex scenes, choking, rough handling, manhandling, blow jobs, deep throating, oral, squirting, anal, double penetration, triple penetration, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, sir kink, powerplay, free use subthemes, getting horny during confession, sins: lust/greed, fingering, sex as punishment/penance, jealousy, dubious consent/inclusion of a new person, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, finger sucking, spanking, spitting, etc... I pet names: (hers) baby, beautiful princess, kitten, whore/slut, good girl, dirty girl, etc. (cheol's) sir. (gyu's) puppy. (others) etc...

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 21.2k

🍭 aus. zombie apocalypse au, poly au, military!cheol/hannie/gyu/wonwoo, priest!Joshua, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. so... uh. I watched Sweet Home season 2 and the military men had me hornier than usual.

Prologue:

It’s been one week since you arrived at the prison compound. One week since you almost died, only to be saved by a group of four of the sexiest men you’d ever seen. They’d stormed into the grocery store you’d been cornered in, killed the three zombies who’d been attacking you, and offered you refuge at one of the few fortified locations for survivors in the area. 

You’d heard about a prison with militiamen protecting it, but you’d never thought it was real. Since the supposed ‘apocalypse,’ lies have become much too common, and part of you had always been scared to hope for something like normalcy ever again. 

Sure, the prison isn’t exactly normal. Sleeping in a cell and carrying out daily tasks like tending to the garden outside or helping with food ration prep isn’t how you’d pictured your life turning out, but to be fair, when zombies began terrorizing the globe, you hadn’t envisioned much of a future for yourself.

Every day you spend surviving is a day past your expiration date, so you take it as it comes. 

To top it all off, the hierarchy of this new place is something you’re getting used to. 

The militiamen generally keep to themselves in the barracks section, but you catch glimpses of them heading out every few days in their trucks while you do menial tasks around the prison yard. 

For the most part, the surviving citizens have formed a mock democracy, a counsel that determines tasks and deals with small-time disputes between survivors. Everyone is pulling their weight in one way or another, but people are kind to each other, and it’s taken some getting used to. 

Your job today involves handing out rations for dinner. The militia had found a warehouse somewhere in the vicinity with a large amount of instant ramen, so morale is quite high as you serve survivors a hot meal. 

You’re still getting the hang of faces and names, but one person stands out as he patiently waits in line. His dark outfit - complete with the white ‘Roman collar’ around his neck - distinguishes him as the priest who tends to the on-grounds chapel. You’ve heard good things about his services, about the way he uplifts spirits and keeps people’s faith, but you’ve yet to go to any of his speaking engagements. 

He’s a handsome man, and you offer him a small smile when he’s finally standing in front of you. “Hello, Father.”

“It’s Joshua,” he corrects you, with a soft grin of his own. “You must be new here.”

You tell him your name, and explain that you arrived last week. He listens with an expression filled with understanding, and you realize his easy countenance must be one of the reasons people like this priest so much. Although he’s a spiritual advisor to the democracy counsel, he doesn’t act like a few of the more entitled circle members do. 

“Thank God we were able to find you,” Joshua muses, when you reveal that you’d been near death at the time of your saving. “I’ve found that, in a situation like this, it’s always the innocent who are first to be trampled over.”

You’re not sure how spiritually innocent you are, but you understand that he might be coming from an angle of women and children being those who are pure. The ratio of male survivors to women and children is four to one in the prison, and it’s definitely been something that made you uneasy about this place when you first arrived.

“Thank God,” you repeat respectfully. 

Joshua’s smile widens for a moment, then he nods. “Please know that the church on the northeast part of the grounds is open to everyone. If you ever need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

“Thank you, Father.” 

This time, he doesn’t correct you on his name, he simply nods, continuing down the food line. 

You’re doing your best to keep yourself in check. You’ve not been around this many handsome men since the initial outbreak, and you feel like a starving dog who’s finally seen an abundance of food. Not only is the priest hot, and the militiamen as well, but many of the survivors here are quite attractive in their own unique way.

Hansol is the quiet man who’d been assigned to show you around. He tends the garden outside with you, and you’ve come to enjoy the way the sunlight hits his striking features. 

Seokmin works in the kitchen, and you’ve spent hours organizing boxes of food with him. You enjoy the smiles he always sends your way, he makes you forget that you’re in a prison with a zombie infestation just outside the compound's high walls. 

Then there’s Soonyoung, a rambunctious survivor who is always vocalizing the needs of others at circle meetings, much to the dismay of counselman Seungkwan, who fancies himself a clear mouthpiece of the people. 

It’s the end of the dinner rush and you’re lost in thought about your new life in the prison when you notice a familiar person standing in front of you. Jeonghan had been amongst the unit that saved you, and he offers you a large grin. “Hi, new girl.”

“Hi,” you say, feeling a little stupid with yourself as the word slips out. It’s hard to focus on speaking with the beautiful man standing in front of you. He’s dressed in his camo pants and a white tanktop, dog tags dangling from his neck. 

“How are you liking this place?” Jeonghan asks. 

“I’m very happy to be here,” you respond quickly. You’re not sure you trust the prison or its inhabitants yet, but, you are grateful to have a safe place to rest at night. 

“Good, it looks like you’re settling in.” The militiaman’s eyes scan you up and down. “We haven’t had a chance to talk to you since we brought you here, the Z1 unit was wondering if you were okay.”

There are a handful of units that protect the prison. As far as you can tell, the Z in front of their unit numbers stands for Zombie, but it’s not something you’ve been able to confirm. 

“Anyways,” Jeonghan continues, “it’s the end of the rush, how about you clock out and come eat with me?”

You notice Seokmin shifting on the food line next to you, and he casts you a weary look. 

“I’m not sure I can clock out,” you admit.

“It will be fine,” Jeonghan assures you, waving his hand. “Actually, now that I think about it, I should grab food for the others too, and you can’t expect me to hold all the trays, right?” 

You look to Seokmin for guidance, and he lets out a small sigh, nodding. “You can help him bring the food to the barracks.” 

A few minutes later, you’re standing in the food line with Jeonghan.  “I didn’t realize the units eat the same stuff as the rest of us,” you muse, watching Seokmin pile a larger-than-normal ration of instant ramen onto each of Jeonghan’s four trays.

“We normally don’t,” Jeonghan admits. “The barracks have a stash of military-grade food, but Z1 has a taste for this type of shit.” 

“Lucky that you found a whole stash of it.”

“We’ve been very lucky lately,” the militiaman grins. “Found you too.”

“I wanted to thank you again-”

“There’s no need,” Jeonghan waves his hand. “Duty this, and duty that, and all that jazz.”

“Still, I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate you helping me with the trays. There, we’re even.”

He’d been quite easygoing when he’d first rescued you- well, as easygoing as you suppose a military man could be during a zombie apocalypse, and you’re pleasantly surprised that his carefree countenance has continued.  

As you finish getting your plates full, Seokmin comes out from the line, looking at Jeonghan, then at you. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Don’t be so jumpy, Seokmin,” Jeonghan laughs. “She can’t bring the food all the way to the barracks and then not eat anything. I’ll make sure she’s well fed, and I’ll send her back when we’re done with her.”

There’s something slightly ominous about his choice of words, and your skin heats at the idea of eating with the entire Z1 unit. 

You? In a room with your four hot saviors? 

Your stomach twists at the mere thought.

“Are you sure I can’t help you with the trays?” Seokmin suggests, his eyes finding you.

“Nah, she’s got it,” Jeonghan brushes your friend off. “Besides, you know that Cheol likes to talk to all the new survivors that show up on base. We gotta fill out a little detail sheet and give it to the head councilman so that everyone is accounted for, or did you forget that that’s one of our duties?”

Seokmin lets out a small sigh, and with one final nod, he allows Jeonghan to lead you from the cafeteria. 

The prison is like a maze, even though you’ve seen a map, you still find yourself getting lost with some frequency. Jeonghan, in contrast, has no problems navigating the dull, dimly lit halls.

“How long have you been here?” you ask.

“Since near the start of the outbreak,” Jeonghan responds casually. “Before all the cell phone towers went down, the government started sending teams into prisons to clear them out. I guess the thought was that compounds like this one would be good bases to survive the apocalypse. Communications between us and the big bosses got cut, the group of officials that were supposed to arrive for sanctuary never did- then survivors started popping up, so now here we are.”

You stay quiet, and Jeonghan looks over at you.

“Where were you before this place?” he asks.

“Never in one place for very long,” you admit. “There was a group of survivors at a large shopping center, but it wasn’t fortified like this place. Was only there a month before things got bad.” 

Jeonghan nods sympathetically. “Well, the prison isn’t gonna be breached anytime soon. You can rest easy now.”

You continue walking, with Jeonghan asking you surface-level questions about what jobs you’re being assigned to, what friends you’ve made. It feels nice to be talking to someone casually again, and if the conversation wasn’t so based on the situation at hand, you think you might actually be able to forget about the apocalypse entirely while with Jeonghan. 

As you arrive at the barracks wing, you have to walk past a few militiamen rooms before making it to the Z1 section at the end of the hall. As you pass, holding trays of instant ramen, you notice members of Z2 watching you. 

Seokmin had explained to you a few details about Z2, more specifically its unit leader, a short but beefy man they call Woozi, who had been the head of the prison’s guard system before the outbreak. He watches you quite intensely as you walk past, but you also get looks from men you can identify as the Chinese members of the unit.

“What’s that?” the youngest Z2 man asks, stepping out of his room to look at you and Jeonghan.

“This, Chan, is instant ramen,” Jeonghan says, waving one of his trays in front of the soldier. “If you run, you might be able to get some for yourself before they close up the kitchen.”

Chan practically takes off, and a moment later, you notice the rest of Z2 standing to join as well.

“Looks like you’re not the only unit who likes ramen,” you grin.

“Everyone likes ramen,” Jeonghan insists. 

You finally make it to the Z1 section and Jeonghan kicks open the door. It’s clear that unlike the other unit rooms which consist of bunk beds, the Z1 unit has the best quarters. With a middle lounging/dining area, and four off-shooting bedrooms, this is clearly the most lavish place to be in the prison. There are weights and other workout contraptions strewn about, and more guns than you can count- 

Sitting on the couches in the middle of the common space are your three other saviors. They appear to be playing some sort of card game, and when you enter, they all look up.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest to be under the gaze of three of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. 

Seungcheol’s the first to speak, his eyes moving from you to Jeonghan. “What’s this?”

“This is dinner,” Jeonghan says simply, walking around the couch to set a tray down for Cheol before taking his own seat next to the unit leader. “And you guys all remember the girl we saved last week. I needed an extra set of hands.”

You step forward, leaning over to put down the two trays you’re holding in front of Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“Make some room for the girl, Jesus, she’s eating with us,” Jeonghan chastizes the two large men staring at you.

Mingyu and Wonwoo are quick to move over, creating a space for you in the middle of the couch. 

“Maybe I should get going,” you suggest, skin tingling at the idea of being sandwiched between Wonwoo and Mingyu. All four men are in their camo pants and tank tops, muscles all on display- 

“Don’t be crazy,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I told Seokmin I’d feed you, so we’re feeding you. These two don’t mind sharing, do you guys?”

Mingyu lifts his jaw off the floor, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “We don’t mind sharing.”

Wonwoo, in contrast, stays dead silent, his dark eyes watching you as you slowly move to sit in the middle. 

“I uh…” you clear your throat. “I wanted to thank all of you again for saving me last week.”

“Don’t,” Seungcheol says. You stare at him, and he leans forward cocking his head to the side. His next question catches you off guard, “Do you like it here?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Jeonghan chuckles, and Mingyu squirms in his seat next to you. Seungcheol, to your shock, actually grins, and you’re amazed at how the smile lights up his handsome face. “No one’s called me that in a long time,” he admits. “I like the sound of it.”

“She’s quite respectful, isn’t she?” Jeonghan notes, winking at you.

“Why’d you bring her here?” Wonwoo asks, addressing the man across from him. 

You’ve kind of been wondering the same thing.

“You know why I brought her here,” Jeonghan shoots back. 

“Have you discussed it with her yet?” Seungcheol questions, his eyes still fixed on you.

Jeonghan gives his head a quick shake. “Of course not, that’s your job… sir.”

Mingyu shifts again next to you, his thigh gently bumping up against your own. You’re hyper-aware of everything taking place, and you stay still like prey caught under the piercing gaze of four predators, holding your breath while you wait for this to play out. 

“You should eat,” Seungcheol tells you, nodding to the tray on your right, which belongs to Wonwoo. “Have a bite.”

When you don’t move, Wonwoo leans forward picking up the tray and setting it in your lap. “Eat,” he echos his superior’s command.

You tentatively pick up the chopsticks, and on your left, Mingyu does the same with his food. You wait for him to shovel a large amount of noodles into his mouth before you follow suit. Across from you, Jeonghan begins eating too, and then Seungcheol picks up his tray to join. 

Wonwoo sits silently next to you, and after two bites, you shift the food toward him, offering the chopsticks. He shakes his head. “You must be hungry,” he insists. “Have some more.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?” you ask. “Jeonghan mentioned a survey to complete-”

“Let's finish eating, then we can talk,” Seungcheol states.

“I’m not really that hungry today,” you admit, not when your stomach is filled with butterflies from being so close to these men. You shift the tray toward Wonwoo again, and this time, he accepts it.

The four men eat in silence, and each passing moment feels like forever. Mingyu is done first, he’d practically inhaled his food, and he sets his tray down on the center coffee table, letting out a loud groan and leaning back against the couch. His thigh presses harder against your own, and you shift closer to Wonwoo, who blocks you in.

Both men now have their legs touching yours, and you can feel the warmth of their bodies. God, you haven’t been properly touched in months. The chaste closeness of this is driving you insane, and your heart continues to thunder heavily in your chest.

Soon, all four trays are stacked neatly on the coffee table, and Seungcheol lets out a sigh. He relaxes against the cushions, eyes on you. “Do you think you’ll stay at the prison for long?”

“Hmm?” you blink, confused by the question.

“Some people leave,” Jeonghan explains. “They think they’ll find somewhere better, for some stupid reason.”

“I uh… I think I’d like to stay here, for now at least… I’m taking each day as it comes.”

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. It’s clear he’s trying to read you, and his silence makes you eager to hear more from him. “We have a… unconventional proposition for you,” the leader of the unit says finally.

“A proposition,” you repeat.

“And if you’re not into it, you can say no. No pressure, no questions asked,” Jeonghan quips.

“You’re allowed to say no,” Wonwoo says quietly next to you. 

“We won’t kick you out or anything,” Mingyu adds. 

“But I do ask that, no matter what your response, you keep this to yourself,” Seungcheol states. 

“Okay, sir.” You nod.

Seungcheol takes a breath. “Life is short-”

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, which earns him a harsh glare from the unit leader. “Come on, you can’t start this off by saying life is short.”

“If you think you can do better, then go for it,” Seungcheol retorts.

“Fine, I will,” Jeonghan fires back. He looks at you. “Life is short-”

“Jesus Christ,” Wonwoo cusses next to you.

“Okay, fine, I’m kidding-” Jeonghan laughs. “Look, I’ll make this simple. There aren’t many pretty girls kicking around these days, and I think it’s safe to say everyone is pent-up from killing zombies and surviving an apocalypse. We all deserve a little release.”

You blink at him, shocked at the direction this has taken.

“As a unit, we’re used to sharing everything,” Jeonghan continues. “And if you’re up for it, we’d love to share you.”

Mingyu shifts next to you. “You don’t have to decide right now-”

“Yes,” you cut him off. “Yes. Please. Uh- yes.”

“Well that was easy,” Jeonghan laughs, leaning back. 

“Sounds like she’s as pent-up as the rest of us,” Wonwoo muses next to you. His voice has lowered an octave, and the sound of him makes your pussy tingle. 

“Looks that way,” Seungcheol agrees.

“So… so how do we do this?” you ask.

“Whatever way you want. Whatever combination you want. Whenever we’re here and you want us-” Jeonghan begins to list. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Mingyu says, his large hand finding your thigh. 

Something inside of you snaps. You turn to the gorgeous man next to you and simply grab his face, smashing your lips to his. Mingyu is surprised for a moment, but then he wraps his arms around you, easily lifting you onto his lap while his tongue begins to clash with your own, a deep groan escaping from him.

“I guess she’s comfortable with now,” you hear Jeonghan muse.

“Gyu, settle down, we still have questions,” Seungcheol says.

With a moan of annoyance, Mingyu pulls away from your lips, then he turns you in his arms, making you face the unit leader. But he doesn’t stop entirely, his mouth finds your throat, and one of his hands grabs at your breast, kneading you through your shirt. 

You’re breathing hard already- Mingyu’s so warm and big and sexy- even so, you do your best to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, your lips parted unconsciously, body wiggling under Mingyu’s touch.

“Are you on any birth control, princess?” Seungcheol asks, leaning forward to watch the way his friend’s other hand slips down to your core, cupping you through your jeans.

“I got an IUD,” you admit, “right before the outbreak-”

Seungcheol’s eyes darken with lust. “Lucky us.” 

“Does this mean we can fuck you raw?” Mingyu groans in your ear, hips rutting up against your ass. 

“Please-” you whimper, practically drooling at the feeling of his hard cock pressing up by your bum.

“Gonna let us fill you up, baby?” he continues, undoing the button of your jeans.

“Yes-”

Seungcheol stands up abruptly, and he kicks the coffee table to the side, sending cards and trays clattering to the floor. He grabs you off of Mingyu’s lap, tossing you over his shoulder and turning toward one of the connected bedrooms. “You’re in for it tonight, dirty girl.”

The three other men stand to follow, and your entire body tingles with delight.

The rest of the world might be dealing with an apocalypse, but you’re pretty sure you’ve just found heaven.

One

When Seungcheol had first shown you the tank in the prison garage, you’d been apprehensive about it. He’d explained that they don’t have the gas for it, so it’s never in use, and is more of a fun toy he goes and sits in sometimes to clear his head. The unit leader had helped you inside and taken the main seat, watching you cautiously move around the enclosed space. He’d explained the mechanics and buttons, dragging you to his lap so you could feel the tickle of his breath by your ear.

In the six months you’ve been fucking his unit, it’s become clear to Seungcheol that you like each man for very different reasons. He’s found that you become particularly baby girl with him when he’s explaining things to you, dominating you intellectually and teaching you new information. 

That first time in the tank, he’d begun stroking you, teasing you until he slipped his hand in your pants. You’d been as wet as you always are for him, and you’d eventually gotten the courage to fuck him in his tank chair, after he assured you over and over again that the armored vehicle is pretty soundproof.

He’s proud of how far you’ve come. It’s the same you, the same tank, but you’re much more daring than you were the first time. He’d thought you were pretty wild when he’d first met you, but that insatiable need you have has only grown, and he loves to see it.

The tank has become his favorite place to fuck you, away from everyone else. As fun as the orgies and threesomes are, sometimes, the unit leader just wants you for himself. 

He loves sitting back and watching you ride him, watching the way your ass bounces while your pussy squeezes his aching cock. 

“You’ve gotten so good at this, princess,” he groans, hands finding your hips to help you move up and down. It’s clear that you’re getting tired, but you won’t stop- you never stop until he tells you to, and he fucking loves you for it.

“Thank you, sir-” you whimper, opting for a slower pace but one that sinks you deeper- he can feel himself stretching out your walls near their breaking point, and he notes the way your legs quake.

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, inhaling the stuffy scent of sex that’s already perfumed the small enclosed space. He wraps one hand around your front, finding your clit. Your shaky legs try to close around him, a squeal of delight escaping you.

“Don’t be like that,” Seungcheol says gently, while roughly pulling your thighs apart. “Let sir help you cum, you’ve been such a good little cock whore, riding me so good- now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sensitive-” you whimper.

“Well, that’s what happens when you let Mingyu eat you for breakfast, isn’t that right, pretty girl?” Seungcheol chuckles. This morning he’d walked in on you sprawled out on the coffee table, a moaning crying mess with Mingyu’s face buried between your thighs. 

He’d watched Mingyu make you cum three times while Seungcheol had sipped his morning coffee, and he’d been hard all day thinking about it, waiting for an opportunity to get you to himself. 

Now here you are, pussy clamped around his cock, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum three times too.

You can take it, he knows you can.

They’d tested your tolerance one day, taking turns making you cum until you physically couldn’t take anymore. 

Your high score had been ten, so six today is nothing… although, Wonwoo had walked in at the end of Mingyu’s meal, and Seungcheol’s pretty sure he has a bone to pick with you over it too, once Cheol is done with his own revenge, that is.

“Sir-” you whimper again, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.

“I can feel you tensing, princess,” he groans, rutting his hips up to meet you. “Be a good girl and let go for me.” He rubs your clit harder and you cry out, which only eggs him on more. “You’ve always been such a good little slut for me, ever since that first night. Don’t start being bad now. You can do it. Follow my order, and cum.”

You take a strangled breath, and Seungcheol can feel your pussy clenching desperately around him- he almost has half a mind to cum too, but he holds back, rubbing your pussy and letting you sink completely on his cock, warming him while your walls throb around his sensitive length. 

“That’s it,” he says in your ear. “Good girl.”

You twitch in his embrace, sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the tank. He gives you everything you can handle, and when you finally slump back against his chest, he relents. His hand leaves your clit and he presses soft kisses to your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he tells you. 

“Please-”

He loves how needy you are, even after you’ve just cum.

It takes no effort at all for him to stand up, forcing you onto shaky legs. Two crude benches line the tank's inner walls, and he’s set up some cushioning on one. He lays you down, adjusting you on your back while you blink up at him. 

He’ll never get tired of that look in your eye. No matter how respectful and good you are verbally, there’s always something like a challenge lurking behind those pretty irises of yours. Seungcheol can’t help the way his hand reaches out to encircle your throat as he gets on top of you, one knee digging into the cushioning while he sinks his cock into your dripping hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper, throwing your head back while he squeezes your neck tighter.

He loves the way you grab at his wrist, applying even more pressure- it’s as if you want him to choke you out, and it’s one of the sexiest things he ever experiences with you. 

You trust him, completely. He has your life in his hands, and you’re more than willing to give up everything for him. 

The pressure on your throat has your whimpers turning squeaky as he begins to fuck you roughly. He loves watching your face, the way your eyes close, your body completely consumed by what he’s giving you.

“Sir-” you gasp, your pussy clenching tight around his cock.

“Are you going to cum again? That fast?” Seungcheol laughs. “And just from a little choking- you’re such a naughty girl, princess. Tell me you love it when I choke you like this.”

“I love it-” you cry out, taking a raspy breath when he lets up for a moment, just to tighten his grip on you again. 

He can see tears welling in the corners of your eyes, and it makes him fuck you harder, his cock sinking in completely with each thrust.

“If you want to cum again, you should cum,” he tells you. “In fact, I want you to cum again. Reach down and rub your clit for me. Get yourself there one more time before I give you what you really want.” 

You moan like a whore but you don’t argue. You never argue with Cheol. Shaky fingers find your clit and you squeal, shivering from the stimulus. 

You feel like absolute heaven, and Seungcheol would fuck you in this tank for hours if he had the time. 

“Sir-” you whimper, a warning of your impending high.

“Cum on my cock,” he tells you, another command that you won’t argue with.

Even if you wanted to, Seungcheol doubts you could control yourself. Your body beats to the sound of its own drum, your brain be damned, and right now, Seungcheol is the one controlling the tempo.

For the second time, your pussy clamps down on his cock, and Seungcheol has to focus really hard on not busting with you. Your pussy feels like magic, warm wet walls wrapped around his length like you were made for him. 

“Look at you,” Seungcheol groans, hips continuing their brutal pace. “Cumming two times in a row- who’s my good little whore?”

“I am!”

“Who makes you cum this good?”

“You do, sir!”

“And what do you want now, my greedy little princess?”

“Your cum- Fuck! I want your cum in me-” 

He loves that you have a thing about being filled up. One time he’d been tempted to finish on your ass, and you’d cried at the thought of not having him inside you. Your favorite thing is when all four of them take turns filling you to the brink- he’s never seen someone as submissive and breedable as you after having four loads in your pussy. 

And the way you thank him every time he fills you up- it’s an experience that will never get old.

“I’m close, princess, but you know sir doesn’t cum unless his pretty girl does,” Seungcheol muses. “You have one more for me, right?”

“Fuck, yes, sir-” He notes the way you rub your clit harder, and you immediately let out a groan- Seungcheol lets go of your neck, pinching your nipple roughly, which earns another strangled sound from your lips.

“Tell me when, princess, then sir will fill you up.”

“Almost there, almost there-” you assure him, brows knitted together in concentration as you work your already oversensitive clit. 

Seungcheol and his unit have spent six months overstimulating you. Six months teaching your body to test the limits and cum over and over and over again- and this is the reward.

Your main dominant leans over you, massaging your breast while his lips meet your throat. He knows your sweet spots like the back of his hand, and you immediately shiver below him, a gasp escaping you.

“Cumming-” you whisper, as your walls clench like a vice on his cock.

The feeling triggers Seungcheol’s orgasm, the tight cord finally releasing.

Seungcheol had thought his sex life before the outbreak was good, but he’s never cum the way he does when he’s with you. His whole body is alight with pleasure, groans leaving him without a care in the world. His hips move to their own pace, twitching as he shoots ropes of his cum deep in your pussy, creaming your pulsing walls and marking you - if even for this moment - as his. 

“Sir-” you whimper, grabbing his face and searching for his lips.

You kiss him deeply, tongue gliding against his own while you moan into each other's mouths, riding out the orgasms. 

As Seungcheol finishes and his hips come to a stop, there’s a knocking on the tank hatch. A moment later, Wonwoo is poking his head through the hole. “These tanks aren’t as soundproof as you think, Cheol.”

“Well, no one comes down here except Z1,” the unit leader points out.

“True.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift past Seungcheol to you. Your body is still mostly covered, but the moment Seungcheol gets off of you, you’re completely exposed. Seungcheol tosses you a handcloth to take care of the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and you blink up at the team’s sniper, who flashes you a wink. “Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, Wonwoo,” you grin.

“Looks like Gyu and Cheol have made a mess of you today.”

“If you give me a little, I can take more,” you assure him, which makes Seungcheol laugh.

How’d they ever luck out and find a nymphomaniac able to take all four men and keep up with their appetites? 

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “I know you like being fucked in a tank, but how would you feel about being fucked on top of one?” 

“What if someone sees?”

Seungcheol laughs again. “Like I said, the only people who come down here are the Z1 unit. If anyone is going to show up, it’s Jeonghan. But we all know you’d like that, wouldn’t you, princess?”

The way your eyes light up is answer enough and Seungcheol pulls on his pants, shaking his head at your insatiable appetite. “Her number is already at six,” he warns Wonwoo, helping you onto your feet and pulling your easy-access dress over your head. “Give her ten minutes to calm down, and when you finally do fuck her, don’t be mean.”

“I’m never mean,” Wonwoo insists, reaching a hand down through the tank hatch hole to help pull you up and out.

Seungcheol follows you on the ladder, making sure your shaky legs don’t lead to any accidents. “Liar.” 

Two

Jeonghan loves everything about you, but he’s grown particularly fond of your mouth in recent months. When he has to share you with three other men who all fight for your pussy, it’s not unusual for Jeonghan to be perfectly content with getting a blow job while he waits.

He likes the lack of effort he has to put into it, but the reward is quite similar to what he experiences between your thighs. It also opens him up to be able to praise you, or degrade you, in any way he sees fit. Out of all four of your military fuck buddies, Jeonghan is the biggest talker. Mingyu has his moments, but when he’s close to cumming, he opts for moaning instead of chatting, which is Jeonghan’s specialty.

When he gets you alone, Jeonghan still likes a good blow job as an appetizer before the main course, and there’s nothing more fitting than having you on your knees for him in the prison chapel. 

“You look good like this,” Jeonghan muses, threading his fingers through your hair to help you find a good pace on his cock. “My perfect little kitten.”

You moan around his length, looking up at him with those pretty eyes he loves so much. 

You’re naked. He’d stripped you the moment you entered the church, and now, as per his direction, your hand is between your thighs, fingers stroking your clit while you suck him off.

“Always so dirty for me in a place of worship-” Jeonghan muses. “But that’s what you’re doing, right? Worshipping? You’re even on your knees and everything.”

When he’d first started fucking you here, you’d made him check the confession booth every time, just to be sure Joshua wasn’t around. Jeonghan knows you don’t have problems with being watched - or listened to - but it had been clear you felt ashamed of the idea of the priest hearing Jeonghan fuck you in the House of God. 

The first time Jeonghan had pulled open the door of the confession booth to find the priest sitting there, he’d allowed the man to be a quiet vouyer without telling you. It had added to his own enjoyment, and it had been clear from the look in the priest’s eye that he was content with listening too. 

It’s been a few months since you’ve asked Jeonghan to check the confession booths- you’ve become much too used to being railed in the chapel, and now, everytime he fucks you here, Jeonghan wonders if the priest is listening in. 

Jeonghan enjoys the almost performative nature that his dirty talk takes on at the idea of another man being in the vicinity. It makes his skin tingle, and his cock ache, to think that the ‘innocent priest’ is hearing every filthy word- every gagging sound you make when Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat.

It’s become clear to Jeonghan that Joshua is anything but innocent, and the two have an unacknowledged agreement of secrecy. What takes place in the House of God, stays in the House of God, especially the sin that’s being committed here weekly.

“There you go, kitten,” Jeonghan groans loudly. “Take all of me, that’s it.”

His hips push forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes start to water as you stare up at him, and Jeonghan brushes them away, enjoying the wetness on his fingers way too much.

“So good,” he coos. “So fucking good.”

You whimper around his cock and he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to still on his length so he can begin fucking your face. 

“Such a perfect hole for me, kitten.” Jeonghan can feel his muscles tensing, can feel an orgasm building in his balls. “How's your pussy feel? Are you getting close too?”

You let out a moan of affirmation, closing your eyes and relaxing your throat while he ruts into your mouth. He’s spent months teaching you how to take cock like this, how to ignore your gagging instinct- and he’s so proud of the progress you’ve made for him.

“Don’t cum on your fingers, you only get to cum on my cock,” he warns you, using you toward his own end.

As much as he loves your mouth, nothing beats the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his length- and he knows you love his cum, knows you love nothing more than feeling him dripping out of your used pussy as you stagger back toward the prison, clutched to his arm.

He’ll give you everything you want. He always does.

“Just a little more, kitten,” Jeonghan groans, enjoying the way your mouth sucks him in with each thrust.

He hopes you’re dripping already. The wooden floor had been less than ideal to fuck on the first two times you’d used the church as a hookup spot, and since then, Jeonghan’s taken to letting you kneel on his military jacket.

He loves the way it smells like you after, but Jeonghan’s always been a bit of a pervert. Sometimes you grace him by slipping your panties into his jacket pocket, and on supply runs, he can play with them when he’s not occupied.

As you bring him closer and closer to his peak, Jeonghan decides he’s had enough of your mouth. He pulls out, and you take a shuddered breath, drool still connecting you to his cock. Jeonghan can’t help himself, he taps his length against your cheek, grinning down at you.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, Hannie,” you nod, wiping your face with the back of your hand before adjusting on his jacket. You lay down, spreading your legs so he can see your pretty pussy, all wet and needy for him. “Please-”

Jeonghan gets down onto his knees, grabbing and teasing your breast, thumb rubbing over your pebbled nipple. “Beg for it.”

“I want your cock,” you whimper. “Please, I need it inside- I need it so bad, Hannie, please-”

He groans at your words, adjusting so he’s hovering over you. He grabs the base of his throbbing cock, rubbing it through your folds and teasing your clit. You wiggle below him at the stimulus, grabbing at his shoulders. 

Jeonghan can’t help but kiss you as he pushes his length into your pussy, going as deep as he can while you both groan into each other’s mouths. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, keeping him close even as he begins to thrust. 

His free hand finds your clit, drawing circular motions that have you shaking beneath him. “Aw, kitten, are you close too?”

“So close-” you confirm, digging your nails into his shoulder blades. 

He fucks you harder, enjoying the squeaky sounds that escape you and fill the chapel. Jeonghan watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, your body wiggling beneath him while he fills you over and over again with his cock.

“Hannie-” you gasp, walls clenching tighter and tighter around him.

“Come on, kitten. Cum on this cock and beg for me to fill you up like the dirty girl you are.”

“I need your cum,” you cry out, “I need it- please, Hannie, please give it to me-”

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a choked sound, back arching so your tits are pressed to his bare chest. 

“Hannie-” You gasp loudly, your orgasm slamming into you. Your walls contract around Jeonghan’s aching cock, triggering his own high. He lets out a groan, continuing on your clit while he fucks you through it.

There’s no prettier sound in the world than a woman cumming in a church, your moans echoing through the enclosed space like angels singing.

Jeonghan fucks you until he physically can’t fuck you anymore, and then he half collapses on top of you, dragging your lips to his own.

You kiss him desperately, tangling your fingers in his hair so he can’t get away, your legs wrapped tight around him. You’re still whimpering, trying to overcome the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re beautiful.

So, so beautiful. 

Three

Wonwoo might actually be obsessed with watching you cum- and if he’s obsessed with watching you cum, then Mingyu’s obsessed with making you cum. Even though they’ve both already filled you with their loads, Mingyu’s back between your thighs again. His large hand is pressed over your abdomen, keeping you from thrashing around while he sucks on your clit and finger fucks the cum back into your abused hole.

Wonwoo is sitting in a chair next to the bed, eyes fixed on your body. If he hadn’t already cum twice, he’d be tempted to pull his cock out again.

“Please- Gyu, I can’t- I can’t-”

“One more,” Wonwoo encourages you. “You can take one more, beautiful.” 

You grab at the sheets, twisting them as Mingyu continues his unrelenting pace between your shaking thighs.

“Fuck-” you whimper, sounds becoming more desperate.

Wonwoo can hear how slick your pussy is, each thrust of Mingyu’s fingers has you squelching-

“She’s gonna cum,” Wonwoo announces, knowing your body almost as well as you do.

Mingyu groans lewdly against your clit, and the vibrations must trigger your orgasm, because you wrap your thighs completely around his head, back arching. Your gasps fill Wonwoo’s room, your grip on his bed released in favour of grabbing Mingyu’s hair.

It’s clear you’re trying to push the man away, but Mingyu doesn’t budge, helping you through your high until tears of pleasure are rolling down your cheeks.

“That’s enough,” Wonwoo says when it becomes clear that you’re bordering on overstimulation. The sniper stands from his chair, gaze lingering on your body. “We asked for one more, and she gave it to us. Give the girl a break.”

Mingyu sighs, but pulls away from your pussy, dragging his fingertips along your throbbing inner walls a few more times before he relents there too. He presents his wet digits to your mouth, and you greedily suck them clean, grabbing his wrist and closing your eyes while you lick up every drop of cum.

“I’ll go grab us food,” Wonwoo sighs. It’s past dinnertime, and as far as Mingyu had been concerned, you’d been his meal, but if Wonwoo is fast, he can make it in time to grab something from the cafeteria.

The barracks have a food stash, but Wonwoo doesn’t have the energy to cook, not after fucking you for two hours. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he warns as he heads to the door.

“As if she can even walk,” Mingyu laughs, pulling his fingers from your mouth in favour of spooning you on the bed, dragging you close to his chest.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else as he leaves. Seungcheol and Jeonghan aren’t around, something about a meeting with Woozi to look over maps of surrounding locations with potential food stores. 

When Wonwoo passes the Z2 rooms, he finds them also empty. Z2 generally frequent the compound’s survivor zones before bed, doing final checks for the night.

Wonwoo thinks about you the entire walk to the cellblock. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head lately. There are the physical things- like the look in your eyes when you’re about to cum, the way sweat glistens on your skin, your nipples pebbling under his touch. But there’s the non-physical side too, the way you make him feel at night when you’re curled against his side, neither of you speaking, hands stroking each other gently-

When Wonwoo makes it to the cafeteria, he finds it nearly deserted. Dino is standing to the side of the room with the priest, and Seokmin has just started putting away the last of the food.

Grabbing two trays, Wonwoo immediately heads for Seokmin, who sighs at his lateness but begins serving him anyways. 

The two are silent as Seokmin shovels food for Wonwoo. He doesn’t say anything, but Seokmin serves three portions. As your friend, Wonwoo thinks Seokmin must know about the arrangement you have with Z1, although he’s never mentioned anything about it. 

Wonwoo’s not entirely sure who knows about what’s going on with you and the four men who have solidified themselves as your constant companions. He’d guess that a number of people have figured out there’s some type of arrangement, especially after Seungcheol had insisted you get less work tasks last month when your duties had interfered with his fuck schedule.

Wonwoo can feel eyes on him, and when his trays are full, he turns to look at Dino and the priest. The Z2 member waves him over, and despite every fiber of his being telling Wonwoo to ignore his friend and find his way back to you, Wonwoo approaches the two men.

“That’s a lot of food,” Dino notes.

“Mingyu’s hungry,” Wonwoo says, his gaze shifting to the priest who has a watchful eye that’s always gotten under his skin. “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“I’m friend to anyone who needs an attentive ear,” the priest says smoothly. 

“He’s a really good listener,” Dino confirms.

Joshua cocks his head, staring Wonwoo up and down. “If you ever need-”

“I don’t,” Wonwoo interjects. “Goodnight.”

As he leaves the cafeteria, Wonwoo can hear Dino trying to explain his behaviour. “Wonwoo’s not a big talker,” the Z2 unit member says in a hushed tone.

And even if he was, Wonwoo certainly wouldn’t be talking to Joshua of all people. While many of the survivors clearly like the man, something is off about the priest, and Wonwoo can feel it in his bones.

Four

Mingyu’s knee had been bobbing the entire jeep ride back to the prison. Missions always make him giddy- any day could be his last, and there’s nothing quite like celebrating another day of life with you when the unit gets back to the compound.

He’s not the only one who’s feeling it. Missions often end with a return to the prison and all four men setting off to find you, eager to see who will be successful in their weekly guessing game of ‘where’s baby?’

“I’m checking the chapel,” Jeonghan announces as soon as the car has come to a stop.

“Jeonghan and his church sex obsession,” Cheol sighs, watching his friend dart off.

“She might be in the garden with Hansol,” Wonwoo says thoughtfully. “It’s a nice day out, that always gets her mind off of shit.”

Adjusting the gun over his back, Wonwoo follows Jeonghan out of the parking garage, which leaves Mingyu with the unit leader.

“They’re both going to be wrong,” Seungcheol grins.

“Yeah?”

“Our little princess gets anxious when we’re gone, especially these days,” Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair. “My money is she’s waiting in one of our beds, napping to pass the time for us to come back.”

“That does sound like her,” Mingyu admits, and the two of them head to the door that will give them the easiest access to the barracks.

“Jeonghan probably could have figured it out, but you know how he gets about his church blowjobs,” Cheol grins. 

“And Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, wondering about his friend’s motives. 

Seungcheol takes a moment before he responds. “I think he likes it when he gets to see her out in the sun.”

Before the outbreak, when Mingyu and Wonwoo had known each other through the military, Mingyu was the designated lover boy. Wonwoo’s never been the type to even look at girls, and the past few months have been a shock for everyone to see what the stoic sniper looks like when he’s falling for someone.

You and Wonwoo had been a slow burn, due to Wonwoo’s generally quiet nature, but in those first months, Wonwoo had probably spent the most time shadowing you. In that time period, Mingyu would go up to the lookout tower and spot you in the garden, Wonwoo a few feet behind, his hand always on his gun despite Hansol being the only other person with you.

When Seungcheol had broached the idea of your only job being their plaything, it had been the first time you’d ever pushed back, insisting that you liked gardening and helping with the plants. Wonwoo had been right there to back you up, and Seungcheol had begrudgingly agreed to let you keep your ‘little hobby.’

In the back corners of Mingyu’s mind, he kind of hopes you are in the garden right now. Wonwoo had almost died on their mission today- zombie jaws had come within an inch of his arm, and if anyone deserves some ‘you time’ after all of that, it’s Wonwoo.

When Seungcheol and Mingyu make it back to the barracks, Mingyu’s small hopes are dashed. The unit leader is the best at guessing moves, in card games and life, and he’d been spot on about you sleeping in someone’s bed. 

You’re in Jeonghan’s room of all places, and you sit up as the two men enter the common space, watching them set down their guns from the messy tangle of sheets. 

You hop onto your feet at the same time that Mingyu begins to run to you. When you jump into his arms, he lifts you off the floor, spinning you around and burying his face against your throat. 

Hugs are never as tight as they are after missions.

“Are you guys all okay?” you ask when Mingyu sets you down, only for Seungcheol to engulf you in an embrace of his own. 

“We’re all good,” the unit leader responds. “A little banged up, but nothing we can’t handle.”

You pull away from Seungcheol to look at his face, and Mingyu watches the way you brush your thumb across the unit leader’s cheek. “Looks like you need a shower,” you muse, having just wiped away some dirt.

“Looks like we all need a shower,” Seungcheol agreed with a groan. He tosses you over his shoulder and Mingyu grins at the sight. Out of all of them, Cheol’s the biggest man handler, but you clearly don’t mind.

One of the nicest things about their little Z1 master unit is that it comes with it’s own bathroom. The other units have small double occupancy rooms, a common area, and a common shower/toilet space. Mingyu feels bad for the other units sometimes, but rank in military means something; Seungcheol is the highest ranking person at the prison, so he gets to call the shots, and his unit reaps the rewards. 

Z1 has taken advantage of the large shower in their bathroom more times than Mingyu can count. There’s nothing like getting steamy in a room full of steam. 

Seungcheol strips you naked, turning on the shower while Mingyu takes off his clothes too. Mingyu can’t wait anymore, and he tugs your nude form against his own, kissing you stupid.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your beautiful tits pressing up against his bare chest. Mingyu’s cock is already getting hard, pushing up between your bodies. You wiggle your hips, providing stimulus that has him groaning loudly, his hands reaching down to grab your ass.

It’s all too easy for Mingyu to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his body while he carries you into the shower, your lips still locked in a desperate battle. 

Instead of putting you under the stream of water, Mingyu presses you against the wall, slowly allowing you back onto your feet. As much as he’d love to rail you right now, he knows that he’s just as dirty as Seungcheol is at the moment- which means you’ll wash his body for him. God, he loves teasing foreplay like this- the way you immediately grab at the prized bottle of body wash to lather it up in your hands. 

Mingyu watches, holding his breath as you bring your palms to his shoulders, beginning to wash his large frame.

“Dirty boy,” you muse, grinning while you rub away the dirt and grime.

“Dirty girl,” he counters, lifting his hands so he can box you in against the wall.

He sees the way your breath hitches- you like to feel small, and Mingyu loves to deliver on it. He might not be as outwardly dominant as Seungcheol or Wonwoo, but Mingyu knows that his height does something to you- the way he has to tip his head to look down and meet your eyes.

Your hands trail down to his abdomen, nails teasing his skin there while he shivers. He wishes you’d just sink to your knees and wrap your mouth around his cock-

“Turn around for me, big guy,” you grin, pulling your touch away from where he needs you most. 

With a groan, Mingyu does as he’s told, and you begin to wash his back. When you reach up to do his shoulders, he feels your bare tits press against his spine. He closes his eyes, grabbing at his cock to begin stroking himself.

“Hey,” you chastise, immediately seeing what he’s doing and wrapping an arm around his front to grab at his hand. “That’s my job.”

“He’s needy today,” Seungcheol grins, watching from just outside the shower.

“I’m needy every day,” Mingyu corrects, releasing his length only to replace his hand with your own- you’re so much smaller than him, and when he looks down, he loves the way you make his cock look massive with your tiny hand wrapped around the girth. 

You begin to stroke him, and Mingyu lets out a loud groan. 

“Does it feel good, big guy?” you ask, squeezing tighter to his back.

“Feels amazing,” he breathes, closing his eyes to enjoy you. 

“I hate to be the one to say it,” Seungchol laughs, “but water stores have been low lately. As much as I’d love to watch this, we’re supposed to be saving supply by showering together, not taking our sweet time.”

“Then come join, sir, I’m sure you need a good rub down too,” you grin.

Seungcheol takes a step forward- just as the door to the bathroom opens, Wonwoo sliding in. He takes one look at the scene in front of him, and begins stripping down.

The unit leader stops his advances, and it’s clear to Mingyu that Seungcheol knows as well as he does that if one person needs you right now, it’s Wonwoo.

“I’ll wait,” Seungcheol sighs, making room for Wonwoo to slip past him into the shower now that he’s removed his clothes. 

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, he simply pushes Gyu to the side and grabs your face, pressing his lips to yours. Your soapy hands find Wonwoo’s toned chest, and you begin to wash him even as he kisses you, pressing you back against the wall. 

Mingyu turns to watch, rinsing the bubbles off his skin while you lather up his best friend. Then, his grip returns to his cock. Your cute little hands have always turned him on, and watching you rub Wonwoo’s shoulders, attacking the specks of dirt there like it’s your job- fuck, everything you do just makes Mingyu horny.

Wonwoo pulls you away from the wall suddenly, spinning you around so your back is now pressed to Mingyu’s chest while the three of you are submerged in water. Mingyu can’t help but lean down and begin to kiss your throat, finding your sweet spot and sucking on it while you whimper and wriggle between their bodies. 

From this vantage point, Mingyu can see your hand slip from Wonwoo’s shoulders and down his chest. You grab at the sniper’s cock, pumping it slowly while Wonwoo continues to kiss you.

The soap washes away quickly, and as soon as you’re all clean, Wonwoo pushes you and Mingyu backward, prompting you to all leave the shower. “Your turn,” Wonwoo tells Cheol as your trio passes him.

“Princess isn’t going to wash me off too?” Cheol’s tone is teasing, but Mingyu can sense the hurt there.

“Not today,” Wonwoo responds gruffy, reaching for one of the towels. He wraps it around your body first, drying you off with efficient motions.

Mingyu grabs his own towel, eager to get rid of the water on his body. He knows what comes next, and he’s not going to waste a second.

When Wonwoo is done with you, you begin to dry him, your lips still tangled together. Mingyu stifles a laugh at the vision in front of him, the way the two of you can be so focused on each other and the task at hand. 

Wonwoo breaks the kiss to look at Mingyu over your shoulder. “If you’re joining, you better go grab some lube.”

“Right-” Mingyu swallows thickly, wrapping a towel around his hips as he exits the bathroom. 

He nearly runs straight into Jeonghan, and the older man grins. “Orgy time?”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says, hurrying to his room to grab the bottle of lube he keeps there. “I think it’s me and Wonwoo right now.”

“Cheol must have loved that,” Jeonghan scoffs.

“You two can have her after,” Mingyu promises.

“We will,” Jeonghan laughs, following Mingyu back into the bathroom. 

Wonwoo’s already inside of you, your feet off the ground while the muscular man presses you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his hips. You’re moaning loudly, Wonwoo’s face buried in the crook of your throat. Your eyes open as Jeonghan and Mingyu enter the bathroom, and the look of lust in your expression is enough to have Mingyu throbbing.

“I’ve got the lube,” he announces. 

Keeping up with four men means you’ve gotten adept at anal. Even so, it had taken you two months before you could properly handle Mingyu’s large cock, but the pay off has been… more than fulfilling, to say the least.

Wonwoo pulls you off the wall, and Mingyu slots behind you, squirting some lube on his fingers. The sniper adjusts his hands on your ass, spreading you open for Mingyu so he can press a finger into your tight hole.

You whimper loudly, and Mingyu does his best to soothe you by speckling your shoulders with kisses. “So good for us,” he murmurs.

You’re taking his finger so well, and it prompts him to add a second, stretching you open while you cling to Wonwoo. 

“Hurry up,” the sniper groans, holding still inside of you while Mingyu preps your ass.

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Mingyu admits; none of them do.

“I can take it,” you moan. “Please, Gyu-”

“Fuck,” Mingyu breathes, slathering his cock with lube before tossing the bottle into the sink. He grabs his base, rubbing his tip through your cheeks and prodding your hole. “If you need me to stop, just say something.”

He tries his best to be gentle, slowly sinking inch after inch of his long cock into your ass. You cry out loudly, burying your face against Wonwoo’s neck. 

Mingyu doesn’t try to make you take him all in one go, he starts with four inches, thrusting shallowly into your ass. Wonwoo takes the motion as a prompt to continue fucking you too, and the men begin to manhandle you between them, a push-pull.

Behind Wonwoo, Seungcheol and Jeonghan have switched places in the shower. The unit leader is now standing half dried off, water droplets sinking down his toned chest while his hand works his own cock.

They’ve all gotten used to watching each other like this, but the knowledge that Cheol is fixated on the act has Mingyu wanting to prove himself even more. He sinks another inch of his cock into your ass, and you moan lewdly in Wonwoo’s ear, wriggling in their grasp.

“Feels good?” Mingyu asks.

“Feels amazing,” you whimper, nails digging into Wonwoo’s shoulders. “I want more.”

“More?” Mingyu laughs.

“Don’t hold back,” you tell him.

This time, when Mingyu thrusts, he allows his front to hit your ass, his cock fully buried in your tight hole.

You let out a strangled cry.

“Our little cock whore,” Cheol muses, “loves being full to the fucking brim.”

“Sir-” you whimper, your walls tightening around Mingyu.

“Fuck, I’m close-” Mingyu groans at the sensation. “Baby, you’re close too, right? Fuck, you’re squeezing us so fucking tight-”

“I’m close, I’m close-” you nod desperately.

“Gonna let us cum and fill you up the way you like-”

“Gyu, please-” you whimper, reaching behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing his lips to your throat.

“We’ll fill you up,” Mingyu promises.

Wonwoo’s not much of a talker in bed, especially under the watchful gaze of Jeonghan and Seungcheol. But when it’s just Wonwoo, Gyu and you, Wonwoo gets out of his shell more. Mingyu’s become an expert at listening to his older friend’s sounds, of anticipating when he’s on the brink-

The soft grunts escaping the sniper’s lips are a clear indicator that he’s as close to the edge as you and Gyu are. Mingyu knows better than anyone that the moment you cum, it’s over for them both. They don’t have the control Seungcheol does to hold off an orgasm while your walls throb around them, and they don’t have the vindictive side to edge you.

No, Wonwoo and Mingyu understand each other. What you see is what you get, and when you begin to beg, they’ll give you anything and everything you could ever ask them for.

“Please, fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you cry as they both fuck you even rougher.

“Cum for us, beautiful,” Wonwoo groans. “Cum on our cocks.”

You let out a pitchy scream, and your walls clamp down on Mingyu’s length, driving him into a frenzy as you throw him over the edge with you. His fingers dig into your hips, his cock pistoning in and out of your ass while Wonwoo matches the fevered pace. The two men moan deeply while your body milks them for all they’re worth, drawing their cum deep inside of you.

“Holy shit-” Mingyu moans. He’s not one to cry from sex like you are, not the type to get so overstimulated that tears fall, but fuck, he feels like he’s on the verge of it tonight.

His body takes over, his animalistic instincts driving him to fuck you through your high even though his muscles are screaming at him to stop. His cock is throbbing endlessly, pleasure surging along his skin hotter than any shower water ever could be.

It’s Wonwoo who stops first, pressing his lips to yours while you grab his face, moaning like their perfect little whore. Mingyu’s thrusts end shortly after, his cock buried deep in your hole, his chest pressed to your back while he kisses your neck.

The sound of the shower has stopped. Mingyu’s not sure when that happened, but when he opens his eyes to inspect what’s going on, he finds Cheol wiping his own cum off his chest.

“What about round two?” Jeonghan asks, cock in hand as he stands in the shower.

“No round two,” Wonwoo says flatly. 

“No round two?” Jeonghan looks shocked, and his gaze shifts to Seungcheol. “Is he allowed to declare that?”

“They fucked her stupid, Hannie,” Seungcheol laughs. “You should have had the brains to make yourself cum while you had a show.”

Mingyu pulls out of your ass, and the two of you groan at the loss. Grabbing some tissues, Mingyu immediately cleans up the cum leaking from your hole. When he’s done, Wonwoo heads to the door with you still embraced against his chest. Mingyu follows like a helpless puppy as the sniper takes you to his room. 

It’s evident that Wonwoo is intent on cuddling you now, and it’s clear from your expression that you’re on the verge of passing out. To make things easier on everyone, Mingyu puts his towel onto the bed, hoping to catch any more cum that’s going to drip out of your used holes.

As the three of you settle onto the bed, Wonwoo’s the one who holds you close to his chest, and Mingyu’s more than happy to be the big spoon behind you.

“You’re in a mood,” you whisper, clearly speaking to Wonwoo. Your finger traces his collarbone, and you lean forward to press a kiss to his throat. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alive,” Wonwoo says simply.

Mingyu knows it’s not his place to join this conversation. He feels lucky that he can even witness it, that the two of you feel comfortable enough being even slightly vulnerable together in front of him. 

If Wonwoo’s not going to go into details about his near zombification bite today, Mingyu’s not going to bring it up either, although the sentiment of the words ‘I’m alive’ weigh heavily on his heart.

When this whole thing had started, Mingyu thinks you were all taking each day like it was your last. But now, six months in, it’s clear you all have something important to live for.

Call it love, call it attraction, call it lust- whatever it is, it’s the glue holding you and the unit together, the thing that’s become worth fighting for.

“I’m happy you’re okay,” you tell Wonwoo, but when you place your hand over Mingyu’s, it’s clear you’re talking to them both.

Mingyu squeezes your fingers gently, a silent agreement that he’s happy you’re all living another day. 

If anything ever happened to any of you at this point in your unconventional relationship, he’s not sure he could continue going on.

Five

Joshua has been distracted his entire sermon. It’s getting hard to read the holy words while his brain is preoccupied with the most unholy of thoughts.

He’s known for a while that the Z1 unit tosses you amongst themselves. He’s heard Jeonghan fucking you more times than he can count. But he’s never witnessed any of these… indiscretions with his own eyes. 

Until now.

He’d been out for a walk in the morning, touring the prison garden with the hopes of bumping into you. What he’d stumbled upon, however, was the sight of you pressed against a wall, the Z1 sniper’s pants hung low on his hips, your legs wrapped around his body while he fucked you stupid, his hand clamped over your mouth.

Joshua had been frozen- or maybe he’d chosen to stay, although it’s hard to admit that to himself. Despite the palm over your lips, your muffled whimpers had still been music to the priest’s ears, and he can’t get the song of you out of his head.

And then you’d opened your eyes, looking directly at him.

Joshua’s voice hitches, and he mentally smacks himself, clearing his throat as he continues the passage he’s reading to the group of adoring survivors. They have no clue that the podium he’s standing behind is hiding the half-chub growing in his pants, and Joshua almost revels at the secret knowledge, the secret sin. 

If only they knew what the dirty priest thinks about when no one else was around.

The chapel door opens, and Joshua pauses to watch you slip into a seat in the very back.

You’ve never come to one of these before, and it can’t be a coincidence that today of all days, you’re here to listen to him speak.

Your presence is a distraction, but it also pushes Joshua to do better. He wants to perform for you, wants to show you how good his sermons can be.

It almost feels as if the passages end too quickly for Joshua’s liking, and with a closing statement, survivors begin to dispurse. By now, his half chub has died down, and Joshua stands in front of the church, bidding goodnight to the parishioners who come to thank him for service. 

Even as he chats briefly with people, his eyes keep finding you.

You haven’t moved from your seat, and as more bodies leave, it becomes clear that you have a motive behind being here.

Finally, it’s just the two of you left. Joshua approaches, his hands clasped in front of his body. “You came,” he notes, delighted at the double entendre to his words. 

“Yeah, I uh…” you lick your lips. “Father, I wanted to apologize-”

“We have a confession booth for that,” Joshua muses. “You’ve been here six months, I think it’s time, don’t you?”

You take a deep breath, your eyes shifting to the booths in the corner of the chapel. “Do we really have to do this there?”

“There’s no better place,” he assures you, stepping back and holding out a hand in the direction of the confessionals. “After you.”

After a moment of deliberation, you stand up, nodding as you pass the priest. As you walk in front of him, Joshua notes your body. You’re wearing a jacket and a dress, the cream colour of the skirt’s fabric almost looks virginal, except he knows better. You’re anything but a virgin.

When you get to the booth, you look at both doors. “Which one-”

“On the left, darling.”

With another tight lipped smile and a nod, you enter the confession booth.

Joshua takes a deep breath, his skin tingling with excitement. As he enters the priest’s side, his mind reels with the possibilities of what you’re about to say to him. 

Joshua revels in the knowledge that his parishioners bestow upon him. Their confessions help him figure them out, see what makes them tick. He’s long been wondering about you and your… motives for being.

You’re a math problem he can’t wait to crack, and he’s excited for you to give him a cheat sheet.

The booth is silent, and Joshua waits patiently. 

Finally, you sigh. “How do I even begin?”

“A confession generally starts when you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’ then you tell me how long it’s been since your last confession, and we go from there,” Joshua explains. 

He can hear you breathing, can feel the anxiety wafting off of you.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say. “It’s been… too many days to count since my last confession.”

There’s silence again, and it’s clear you need more guidance. “What are your sins, darling?”

“Lust,” you blurt out. “Lust is a big one… and I think… probably greed too. Do you think I’m greedy, Father?”

He definitely thinks you’re greedy. One girl being passed around by four men- it’s as greedy and lustful as he’s ever seen, but Joshua keeps that to himself. “I’d need more details about your situation in order to make an adequate assessment.”

“Well, I mean… you saw me with Wonwoo today.”

Joshua stays silent.

“I just want you to know… We didn’t think anyone would see us.”

“God sees all.”

“God I can handle, but you? It’s different that you saw it.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, because-” you pause. “It’s just different.”

Joshua considers your words. “We live in rough times,” he says finally. “Unprecedented days. It’s not unusual to seek comfort in a situation like this. I would never judge you for finding comfort in the arms of a man like Wonwoo.”

“Except… I think… I think we both know it’s not just Wonwoo I seek comfort in.”

Joshua’s heart beats loud in his chest, and excitement tingles across his skin. “Go on, darling.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

“Why are you apprehensive?” Joshua asks.

“I was asked not to discuss this with anyone, but- I mean, you saw me and Wonwoo, so I wanted to come here to apologize for that, not to get into the messy details.”

The priest immediately guesses the culprit behind your secrecy. It’s just like Choi Seungcheol to give you a boundary like this. You’re the Z1 unit’s open little secret. Anyone with eyes trained to look can see what’s going on, but the prison has a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. And no one pries into the personal lives of Choi Seungcheol or his men.

“It would feel better to confess,” Joshua tells you. “No one would have to know.”

“I’d know.”

“And it would stay between us. You can trust me.” Joshua’s a master secret keeper, and he’s eager to add yours to his long list of indiscretions carried out by desperate survivors.

“That’s the thing, Father, I’m not sure I can.”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” Joshua asked, perplexed by you. Has he been slipping? 

No, it couldn’t be. His carefully created mask is good enough to charm and convince anyone-

“Wonwoo wasn’t happy about you stumbling across us today,” you note.

Ahh, Joshua nods to himself, Wonwoo, the sniper with the sharp eyes. Things are beginning to make sense. 

“Maybe Wonwoo should be in the confessional, not you,” Joshua muses.

“He’d never come here,” you laugh. “He wouldn’t even want me to be here right now, not alone.”

“And yet, here you are, darling. Alone.” 

“This wasn’t a good idea.”

Joshua hears you stand up. Part of him wants to find a way to manipulate you into staying, but he’s already toed the line by calling you ‘darling’ multiple times. If he does anything else, it might incur the wrath of Seungcheol. The priest still has plausible deniability on his side for the petnames, but anything further might be the tipping point.

“I’m always here,” Joshua assures you, wondering if you’ll clue into the word ‘always,’ and see the true meaning there. “You’re welcome in my confessional any time.”  

Six

Your pulse is still racing from your interaction with the priest when you make it back to the Z1 dorm. Your four lovers are playing cards, a general pastime for them when they’re not blowing your back out, and they all look up as you slip inside the room.

“Baby?” Mingyu puts his cards down, standing to address you. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah- of course, why wouldn’t I be alright?” you ask.

“You look off,” Wonwoo notes, also getting to his feet, an expression of concern evident in his handsome features.

“Tell us what happened,” Seungcheol commands.

“Sir-”

“Tell us,” he insists.

“I went to the chapel,” you tell them, watching Wonwoo’s expression drop. “I uh- the priest saw me and Wonwoo today so I went to apologize-”

“The priest caught you?” Jeonghan laughs, still seated and clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him. “Naughty, naughty.” 

“Shut it,” Seungcheol warns his friend, gaze shifting back to you. “Then what happened?”

You swallow thickly. “We went into the confessional and- I mean, I didn’t tell him anything, but, there was something about the vibes- the way he spoke to me-”

“How did he speak to you?” Wonwoo questions, irritation clear in his tone.

“I can’t explain it,” you sigh. “It almost felt… It almost felt like he was flirting with me- and maybe, maybe I gave him the wrong idea, I don’t know- it was weird.”

“Maybe you gave him the wrong idea,” Seungcheol repeats your words back to you. “Have you been flirting with the priest, princess?”

“I don’t think so-”

“You don’t think so,” Seungcheol scoffs. “Sounds like we all need to go have a talk with this fucking priest.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Jeonghan says, jumping to his feet and drawing all eyes. “I mean- come on, he’s a man of God, right? He probably wasn’t flirting with her-”

“Why so jumpy, Hannie?” Seungcheol turns to his friend, looking him up and down. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then you’ll have no problems if we go have a chat with him. All of us. Right now.” It’s clear that this isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order.

Seungcheol heads to the door, holding it open and looking at your group expectantly. Mingyu’s the first to sigh and head out. Jeonghan is next, and you can’t help but notice the slight skip to his step, as if he’s excited about what’s to come.

Wonwoo grabs your forearm, dragging you past Cheol. “Going to the chapel alone wasn’t a good idea,” he tells you. 

“I know,” you frown. “I knew that while I was there. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol falls into step on your other side, his gaze forward, jaw set. 

“You know how I feel about that man,” Wonwoo continues. 

You nod. “You don’t trust him.”

“Can you even imagine how any of us would react if something happened to you?” Wonwoo asks, his grip tightening on your forearm.

“Joshua is a priest,” you insist. “He wouldn’t do anything-”

“He’s more capable than you give him credit for. All survivors are,” Wonwoo states harshly. “We’re still alive for a reason. Some of us had to do bad things to get where we are now, and I wouldn’t be shocked if your priest has made choices that even his own God wouldn’t like.”

You can’t respond, because you know what Wonwoo’s saying is true.

In fact, if anyone on the base is able to spot a predator, it’s probably the man holding your arm. He’s a sniper, and it’s his job to see threats and dispose of them before they become a problem. 

The five of you are silent as you make your way through the prison, heading outside to walk the short distance to the chapel. When you get there, Jeonghan pushes the door open. He’s been here so many times that he has no problem entering the sacred space, but the rest of you are a little more hesitant.

Mingyu heads inside, leaving you on the doorstep with Seungcheol and Wonwoo.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Wonwoo states.

“You’ve never doubted me before, don’t start now,” Seungcheol grins. “A talk with this priest has been long overdue, don’t you think?”

“She doesn’t have to be here for this,” the sniper looks down at you.

“Of course she has to be here for this,” Seungcheol scoffs. “I know you don’t like Joshua, but you have to trust me on this.”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, watching Seungcheol enter the chapel. When it’s just the two of you still outside, Wonwoo cups your cheek. “Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you. How any of us feel about you.”

“What do you think is about to happen?” you ask, confused at the ominous tone that’s been set.

Your sniper simply stares at you for a few moments, then he looks down, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “With Seungcheol in charge, you never know.”

Wonwoo kisses you then, and he’s surprisingly gentle. You kiss him back, leaning against his strong chest- the door to the chapel opens and Mingyu pokes his head out, “Are you two coming, or what?”

With a sigh, you enter the church. Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua are standing by the podium in the front. They’re speaking too quietly for you to hear what they’re saying, but they all look up when you enter.

Joshua’s the first to smile. “Seungcheol has told me that you’re here for a real confession this time.”

“Hmm?” Your gaze shifts to the unit leader, and he grins.

“Go on, princess,” Seungcheol encourages. “The confession booth is all yours. We’ll be right here, for moral support.”

Wonwoo lets out an annoyed sound, but he doesn’t stop you as you stumble to follow through with Seungcheol’s command. You make your way to the confession booth, hand shaking as you pull away the long velvet curtain to step inside.

Your heart is racing wildly in your chest, but you try to be patient as you wait for the priest to enter his own side. 

When you hear Joshua sit down, you do your best to remember how this starts. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… an hour since my last confession.”

There’s a distinctly Jeonghan-like snicker from outside the booth, and it sets your stomach into knots. 

You’re hyper-aware of the fact that all four of your lovers are just outside the confessional, that they’re listening in- it’s making your mouth dry, your palms becoming sweaty as you rub them against your dress.

“When you last confessed, you mentioned greed and lust as your sins. Would you care to elaborate more on that?” The priest asks. “Maybe it will be easier, now that you’re amongst… friends.” 

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.

“In my experience, the truth is what’s important,” Joshua muses smoothly.

“I think… I think I’m here right now because I told Seungcheol about coming to you earlier. There was something- something I couldn’t quite explain about the interaction.”

“Go on.”

“It almost…” you swallow thickly. “It almost felt like you were flirting with me, Father.”

“Greed and lust are most definitely your sins,” Joshua notes. “Would you have liked it if I was flirting with you?”

Someone whispers ‘what the fuck’ from outside the confessional, and you’re pretty sure it was Wonwoo. He’s voicing your own thoughts, and you scramble for a response.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you admit. 

“I’d like to tell you something, and I think you should consider it when looking at your sinful actions. Perhaps you can think of it as a way to release yourself from any shame you feel.” Joshua’s tone is soothing, and you hang onto what he’s about to say next. “While many men of my religion believe that God created the world and all its creatures in a matter of days, I think a lot can be learned from a Darwinian approach to life. Our closest ancestors are primates. They live in a warzone. Nothing is guaranteed but death. I’d be tempted to confess that their psychology isn’t that different from our own these days. Survivors of an apocalypse become no better than our primitive ancestors, and our behaviours are reflective of that. When certain species of female primates ovulate, and head out in search of a partner, do you know what they do?”

“Erm… no, Father.”

“The female bonobo primate will mate with as many fit males as possible. There are a number of reasons for this, but the primary one seems to be the need for protection. Not only for herself, but for future offspring. A male bonobo is less likely to throw out a baby if there’s a chance it could be his own. I would guess you’re using a contraceptive, but the psychology of a female in need of a band of male protectors in desperate times still applies. It’s animal nature, and the world we live in now has turned us all into animals. Instincts take precedence over logic. You might be greedy and lustful, but I would argue that you’ve needed to be in order to secure your survival.” 

“I…” you clear your throat, mind spinning at what he’s just suggested so eloquently. “I can’t believe you’re comparing us all to primates.”

“And how do you know so much about monkeys?” Mingyu asks loudly from outside the confessional, earning a chorus of snickers.

“If you won’t accept this comparison as… a justification of your greedy and lustful ways, then how about you try to explain it yourself?” Joshua suggests, ignoring everyone but you.

“I think… maybe I just like to be fucked,” you admit. “I think we all come at this from different backgrounds, with different motives for what we do.”

Joshua lets out an understanding sigh. “And what are your friend’s motives?”

“Mingyu likes companionship. He’s like me. He needs reassurance, needs physical touch. Jeonghan likes the fun of it all. He likes enjoying himself, likes to indulge. Wonwoo… I think it started as something just physical for him. A way to distract himself from the pressure he has on his shoulders. And Seungcheol likes to dominate. He likes to feel as if he’s won at something. I’m guessing he sees this whole thing as a punishment.”

“A punishment?” Joshua enquires. “For you?”

“For me mostly,” you nod. “He likes to humiliate me in certain ways, and I think this might be one of them. He also likes to challenge God, he’s not a believer, so I’m guessing he’s enjoying this because we’re bringing sin into a place of worship. He’s in control right now. Not you, not me, not even Wonwoo-”

“Is Wonwoo also receiving this punishment?” the priest asks.

“Of course he is. Wonwoo doesn’t like you, that’s no secret, Father.”

“What did the two of you do to deserve such a punishment?”

“I admitted that I probably flirted with you a little,” you say quietly, your skin heating at the admission. “And Wonwoo’s been taking more of my time recently, been talking back to Seungcheol in ways that Seungcheol hasn’t liked.”

“It’s quite the dynamic you’ve found yourself a part of,” Joshua muses. “An entanglement of wants, needs… indulgences. If you have such a good understanding of Seungcheol, how do you think this whole thing will play out for you?”

“I think he’d like for me to confess in deeper detail, confess my personal sins instead of talking about the others so much. I think he’d like for me to feel dirty, and when this confession is over, I’m guessing he’ll prove how dirty I am, here in this church, for all your eyes and God to see.”

“How would you feel about that?” Joshua asks.

“Humiliated… excited…” you consider the emotions running through you. “I’d feel like I’d done something to deserve it, which I have.”

“A simple thing like flirting doesn’t constitute a punishment of this magnitude. What other sins have you partaken in? If you know Seungcheol wants details, you should give us all details.”

You take a deep breath. “I’ve done practically everything a lustful greedy sinner could do to deserve this. I’ve had more orgies than I can count. I’ve had three men inside of me at once. I’ve been filled with cum over and over and over again. I’ve been insatiable, always greedy and ready to take more. I’ve been fucked to the point of passing out, only to awaken and go another round. I’ve reveled in the fact that I have four men who like watching me get fucked, who touch themselves to the view of their friends fucking me to the point where I can’t talk or walk. I’ve become a fuck toy instead of doing actual survivor work in the prison, giving into my own greedy desires instead of the good of others. I’ve had sex in all sorts of places that I never thought I’d have sex in-”

“Like this church,” Joshua interrupts you. “You’ve desecrated it before.”

“I-” your heart thunders in your chest. 

“Admit it,” the priest insists.

“Father, I-”

“You’ve been a very, very bad girl.” 

You hate that you’re getting wet from this. There’s a feeling of relief that’s come from confessing your lustful ways, and now Joshua’s deeper tone is setting you on edge. He’s degrading you, like Cheol does, but it feels more extreme coming from a man of God- from a priest who clearly knows you’ve been fucked in his place of worship.

“What’s the correct penance for a naughty whore like her?” Seungcheol’s voice makes your skin tingle. He opens the confessional fabric screen, staring down at you. His thumbs are hooked in his belt, and the way the light hits him from behind makes him look shockingly angelic and demonic at the same time. It illuminates his broad shoulders, the soft curls of his hair- but his face is shadowed.

“Sir-” you whisper, cowering against the back of the booth.

“It’s clear that she’s insatiable,” Joshua responds smoothly, shifting on his side of the confessional. “I’d say you’re within your right to do anything you want to her. As long as I’m here, the dirty ways you choose to defile her will be penance, a Godly act.”

“A Godly act,” Seungcheol grins, turning to look over his shoulder at the others. “I don’t know why you’re so offput by this priest, Wonwoo, he makes all the sense in the world to me.” The unit leader’s eyes find you again. “Now, what to do with our naughty little whore of a princess.”

“I think you know what we’re going to do to her,” Jeonghan says sinisterly from outside the booth.

“Yes, but in what order… decisions, decisions.” Seungcheol cocks his head to the side. “I think I’ll have you first, pretty girl. I was the first one to have you in the beginning, it’s only fair that I have you first now.”

You can’t help yourself, you drop to your knees, shuffling forward. Seungcheol’s grin widens, and he looks down at you while you begin to undo his belt. 

“Good girl,” he muses, threading his fingers through your hair as you pull down his pants. He’s already hard, his cock springing up toward your face. You can feel yourself beginning to drool, and you grab his base, guiding him to your mouth. 

Seungcheol releases a low groan as you begin to blow him in the confessional. You don’t hold anything back. You sink down on him as much as you can, suctioning your lips around him and swirling your tongue. Even so, it’s not enough for Seungcheol. His grip tightens in your hair, holding you still so he can begin to fuck your face.

You moan around his cock, relaxing your throat so he can go as deep as he wants- and Seungcheol always likes to test your limits.

Your hands find his strong thighs, looking for something to anchor yourself while he uses you for his own pleasure. 

“Letting me fuck your face in a confessional, this is a new low, even for you, princess,” Seungcheol laughs, pulling you off his cock. “Open.”

You part your lips, sticking out your tongue. Seungcheol spits into your mouth.

“Now swallow,” he instructs, smirking as you follow through with the command. “Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you, Sir,” you whimper.

“Keep that in mind tonight,” he warns, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He squeezes you roughly, and then pulls you to your feet. Seungcheol thrusts you out of the confessional, holding you against his chest while your eyes take in the men all crowded outside. “Who do you want after I’m done with you?”

You can’t help but shift your gaze to Wonwoo, not because you want him to be next in line, but because you’re worried about how this is affecting him. He’d been more riled up than you’ve ever seen him before when you’d entered the chapel, and now that it’s clear Joshua will be joining this orgy, you wonder how he’s feeling.

Seungcheol follows your eyes. “Wonwoo goes last,” the unit leader announces.

“The priest goes last,” Wonwoo retorts, the words coming out in something near a growl.

“Now I see what she meant about him talking back,” Joshua muses as he steps out of his side of the booth. “Is that any way to speak to your superior?”

Wonwoo clenches his jaw tightly. If looks could kill, the priest would be dead, but it simply makes the man standing next to you laugh. The sound causes an ache in the pit of your stomach.

Jealousy has never been a part of this dynamic- that’s what makes this whole thing work. You worry about the implications this night will have on the rest of your time in the prison, worry about your safety going forward.

“Okay, princess,” Seungcheol brings his lips to your ear, his hands sneaking down the front of your dress and gripping the fabric, “I’m done waiting.”

In one quick motion, he reaches under your skirt, grabbing your panties and tearing them off. Then he pushes you forward, bending you at a ninety degree angle while he brings his cock to your soaked core. 

“I knew you’d be wet from this,” Seungcheol laughs, rubbing his tip through your pussy lips. “You know, priest, she wasn’t lying when she said she revels in the act of being watched. She goes fucking crazy for it. Let me show you just how crazy she gets.”

Seungcheol sinks his cock into your tight hole and you moan desperately, trying your best to hold yourself up in this position with your fingertips to the floor. The unit leader’s hands are on your hips, and he begins to rut into you roughly, forcing squeaks and moans of pleasure to slip out of you.

“Tell us how much you love this,” Seungcheol prompts.

“Fuck, I love it so much- oh my god-”

“Bet you’d love it more if you had something to suck on.”

Jeonghan and Mingyu both step forward immediately, and you feel Seungcheol’s hand leave your hips as he points at the elder of the two. “You.”

“Thank God,” Jeonghan grins, already working on his belt. “It’s been too long since I fucked your face in this church, kitten.”

“Put your hands behind your back,” Seungcheol instructs.

“I can’t-” you’re hardly stable and standing as it is, bent over like this.

“Give me one wrist,” the leader insists, grabbing it as soon as you’ve presented it to him. “And now the other.” With both your hands caught in a bruising grip, Seungcheol helps stabilize you, holding you up from behind. Your muscles are already beginning to ache, but when Jeonghan slips his cock into your mouth, you nearly forget about the burn.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” Jeonghan groans, thrusting gently in comparison to the man fucking your pussy. 

“She likes it too, gets all tight and wet whenever you hit the back of her throat,” Seungcheol laughs. “She loves being used like this.”

You can only moan like a whore around Jeonghan, an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Gyu’s already touching himself, princess,” the unit leader tells you. “You love it when he gets needy and can’t wait.”

You do, you love it more than you can ever put into words-

“Tell her how good she looks like this,” Seungcheol demands.

“You look so fucking good,” Mingyu groans. “Our perfect little baby-”

“Your perfect little whore,” the priest laughs. 

“Mingyu’s too soft on her,” Seungcheol says with a grunt, fucking you so hard that your legs begin to shake. “He always has been, and he always will be.”

Great, now Seungcheol’s degrading Mingyu too. He’s not usually like this. You’re not sure why he’s in such a mood today- or why he has such good compatibility with Joshua.

“Enough talk, fuck,” Jeonghan groans. “If you’re not going to cum in her soon, I will.”

“You know I only cum when she begs,” Seungcheol retorts.

Jeonghan is quick to pull you off his cock, fisting your hair while tendrils of spit keep you tied to his throbbing tip. 

“Fuck, please, sir- I can hardly stand- please, I need your cum-”

Seungcheol laughs darkly. “You can do better than that.”

“Sir, I’ll die without it. I need it- I need it deep inside, please, I want you dripping out of me for days-”

His speed increases as you babble pathetically, and you can feel your core tightening around him. 

“I’m gonna cum- fuck, Sir, please, please cum with me, please- please let me cum-”

“Cum on my cock, dirty girl, show everyone how much you love getting fucked like this.”

As your orgasm slams into you, so does Jeonghan’s cock. He fills your mouth, muffling your sounds of pleasure while Seungcheol fills your pussy. Your entire body is thrumming with hot energy, alight with the ecstasy that your lovers always provide.

You can feel your wet walls milking Seungcheol’s cock, and his low groans only make your pussy throb harder, your orgasm lasting so long that it almost hurts.

It’s hard to breathe with Jeonghan fucking your face, but the lack of oxygen only adds to the copious stimulus, and you can already feel yourself beginning to cry a little from how good it all is.

The moment Seungcheol’s finished, Jeonghan is tearing himself away from your mouth. “My turn, my turn-” he insists, tugging you off of Seungcheol only to flip you around with your back to his chest. He bends you over in the same manner that his superior did, sliding his cock into your cum filled hole. “Fuck-”

“Hannie-” you whimper, legs still shaky.

“I know, I know,” he coos at you. “I’ll give you what you want.”

His hand wraps around your body, fingers finding your aching clit. You’d cum from penetration alone with Seungcheol, and your sensitive bud had been throbbing at the missed action- now, each rub of Jeonghan’s digits has you crying out.

“Need you to cum again,” Jeonghan tells you. “You can do that for me, right? Cum on my cock just like you did for Cheol- you’re a good girl, aren’t you, kitten?”

“I’m good,” you insist, on the verge of tears again.

Suddenly, hands are cupping your face, and you open your eyes to see Mingyu on his knees in front of you. He wipes your tears away with his thumb, pressing his lips to yours. “Wanna see you cum, baby,” he murmurs.

There’s nothing like a gentle touch after the number Cheol just did on you, and something about Mingyu’s words tip you over the edge. You gasp against his lips, pussy clamping down on Jeonghan like a vice while he groans loudly.

You feel him spilling deep inside of you, pressing his hips flush to your ass while your walls contract around his cock. “Fucking hell-” Jeonghan grunts, thrusting shallowly while orgasms surge through you both.

Mingyu kisses you deeper, his large hand finding the back of your neck, stroking you while his tongue invades your mouth. You get lost in the kiss while your orgasm subsides, and when Jeonghan pulls out of you, you crumple down onto your knees.

“Come here,” Mingyu says softly, collecting you into his lap while he sits against the wood floor. There’s no cushioning tonight, no jacket placed down to make things easy on you. Your knees hurt as they dig against the hardwood, but part of you thinks you deserve the pain while you wriggle against Mingyu, immediately grinding on his hard cock while cum begins to drip out of you.

Mingyu grabs your dress, tearing it off your body to reveal your naked form to the house of God. Your hand finds his cock, pumping him desperately-

“Two loads are never enough,” Seungcheol muses, but his words feel distant while you kiss Mingyu. “Look at her, stroking him off- I bet she can’t even last a minute before taking him next.”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right. 

Although, in this instance, you don’t want to fuck Mingyu only for yourself, you want to fuck him for him too. He’s clearly as needy as you are tonight, moaning sinfully when you kiss down his throat, finding his sweet spot and sucking it.

“Can you take me, baby?” he asks. “It’s okay if you can’t-”

God, you love him. 

He doesn’t realize that you have something to prove. Doesn’t realize that tonight, failure is not an option.

You lift yourself up enough to bring his tip to your core, and then you sink down on every glorious inch he has to offer. 

Mingyu practically whimpers into the kiss, and the sound of it releases something feral inside of you. Suddenly you don’t care about your knees getting bruised on the floor, you simply want to fuck this man like you’ve never fucked him before.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you push him onto the ground. Your hips begin to move and you tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him desperately while you ride him. His cock is so big- so long and hard, that it gives you a lot to work with. There’s no fear of it slipping out, no fear of losing him- he’s yours, completely. 

Mingyu is groaning into the kiss, his hands skimming down your back and grabbing your ass, helping you with each thrust.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan breathes. “I didn’t know she could ride like that.”

“That’s cuz you like to fuck her face,” Seungcheol retorts.

“Still,” Jeonghan insists, “look at our little superstar go.”

Their words make you more confident, and you push yourself up using Mingyu’s shoulders as leverage. You throw your head back, moaning loudly in the sanctity of the church. You’re aware that you’re giving every man watching a full view of you now, your breasts bouncing, hips rutting wildly as you claw at Mingyu’s chest-

You open your eyes. Seungcheol’s sitting on a pew, his boots up on the bench in front of him, where Joshua is perched. Wonwoo’s leaning against the confessional, arms crossed over his chest. Jeonghan is simply sitting on the floor a few feet away. They’re all watching you intently.

“Gyu,” Seungcheol says suddenly, taking off his dog tag and throwing it at the two of you, “put this around her neck.”

“What?” Mingyu tilts his head to the side, a large, muscled arm reaching out across the church floor to grab the chain.

“In case our little whore loses track of who’s already filled her up,” Seungcheol explains, although, you’re pretty sure that won’t be a problem. 

No, as Seungcheol’s dogtag is placed around your neck, followed quickly by Jeonghan’s, you think this must be another way of your men to claim you as theirs.

Joshua doesn’t have a dog tag, his mark won’t be around your neck like a collar showing off who you belong to.

As you ride Mingyu, the dogtags bounce against your breasts, the metal clinking softly together. The material is cool against your hot skin, and you hate that you enjoy it like this.

Mingyu sits up abruptly, burying his face in your tits. His mouth wraps around your nipple and you claw at his hair, throwing your head back and moaning. “Fuck, puppy-”

You hardly ever call him by that petname, but it feels fitting like this. Mingyu groans, palming your other breast with his hand, and it’s a confirmation that he enjoys the term. 

“You’re so deep-” you continue, knowing he also loves praise. “You fill me up so good-”

Mingyu’s arms wrap around the small of your back, and then he’s rolling the two of you so he’s in the top position. He adjusts your thighs, pressing one up against your chest as he begins to fuck into you hard and deep, hitting spots that have you clawing at the floor.

Part of you wants to leave a mark on the wooden planks outside the confessional, a constant reminder to Joshua that you’ve desecrated this holy place. That he’s allowed you to do so, that he’s even sanctioned it. 

Mingyu’s lips find your throat, and a shiver runs through you. One hand threads through his hair, massaging his scalp while he fucks his friends’ cum deep into your core. Your other hand lifts from the floor, sneaking between your bodies to find your clit.

Your pussy clenches at the touch, and Mingyu groans lewdly, fucking you even harder.

“I’m close, puppy,” you tell him, panting in his ear. “I’m so fucking close-”

“Me too,” he whimpers, sucking on your ear. “Me too, baby, fuck- you feel so good-”

“You feel good too,” you assure him, applying more pressure to your clit. “So, so good, Gyu-”

“Shit, I can’t-”

“Cum for me, puppy, please, just cum for me-” you beg, drawing his lips to yours as he groans loudly, shooting his load into your pussy.

His thrusts are rough and erratic, and he triggers your own orgasm, making you gasp into the kiss. The two of you are panting, tongue tied and animalistic as you work through your shared high. 

You claw at his back- it’s as though you need him closer, you want to devour him even though he’s as physically close to you as he ever possibly could be.

Mingyu’s large form shudders as his orgasm subsides, and you know he’s on the verge of overstimulation. He’d kept fucking you for your sake, not his own, and you kiss him lovingly at the thought. 

The two of you have a close bond. You take care of eachother, and you always will. 

Mingyu finally breaks the kiss, looking down at you while he catches his breath. “I-” he swallows thickly. There’s a deep emotion brewing behind his chocolate brown eyes, and you wonder if he’ll voice it for the first time, in front of everyone else. “Wonwoo hyung probably wants you now.”

Your adoring puppy boy pulls out of you, and you whimper at the loss. He sits back on his heels, looking down at you, then he takes off his dog tag, gently placing it around your neck to join the others.

You turn to look at Wonwoo, and he smiles at you softly from where he’s leaning on the confessional. “Hey, beautiful, can you walk?”

You nod, allowing Mingyu to help you up onto shaky legs. You’re aware of the cum beginning to drip down your thighs with each step you take, but you can’t bring yourself to care. When you finally make it to Wonwoo, you throw your arms around his shoulders, enjoying the way he hugs you, twirling you around so you’re now the one pressed up against the confession booth.

His lips meet yours. It’s not a hungry kiss, not at first. It’s a kiss that speaks a thousand words, and yet, none at all. It’s a kiss that reassures you that everything he said at the door before you entered the church was true. 

‘Whatever happens in there, it won’t change how I feel about you.’

When you’d started all of this six months ago, the last person you expected to have a true soft spot for was Wonwoo. He’s not a huge talker, but when he does speak, he’s sincere. It’s one of your favourite things about him- well, that, and the way that his arms have started to feel like the first home you’ve experienced since the outbreak.

His hand cups the back of your head, and the kiss deepens. You press your bare chest against his own, moaning at the contact. Wonwoo grins, nibbling at your bottom lip while his fingers begin to trail down your body.

He’s soft as he circles your clit, and it leaves you wanting more, rutting your hips against him. It’s all too easy for Wonwoo to slip his fingers into your dripping pussy, and the squelching sound your core makes has your skin heating with embarrassment. But Wonwoo clearly doesn’t care about the noise as he begins to pump his hand, curling his digits to reach your gspot.

You grab his shoulders, legs already feeling shaky. You’re moaning too much now for him to kiss you properly, so his lips find your throat.

Whimpers and wet sounds fill the church, and as Wonwoo’s pace increases, you realize what his intention is. The sniper has always had skilled fingers, and it’s not uncommon for him to make you squirt- you can already feel your pussy beginning to drench his hand, but you’re not sure if it’s your cum or someone elses.

All you know is that it feels amazing. The pressure in your stomach is like hot ecstasy, and each rough pump of his fingers has your body tingling with pleasure. 

“Fuck, Wonwoo-” you moan, words caught as he palms your clit. Your eyes clench shut, you feel more liquid squirting out of you, can feel the impact of it hitting the floor, sending droplets that skirt by your toes-

“That’s going to be a bitch to clean up, Shua,” Jeonghan notes with a snicker.

You can feel your lover grinning by your throat- maybe this was his intention all along. 

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, shocked at the amount of squirt that’s left your body. “Too much-”

The sniper doesn’t hesitate when he hears this, he simply pulls his fingers from your core, presenting them to your lips as he pushes his pants down with his free hand.

You suck greedily on his fingers, tasting the mix of cum you find there. 

Wonwoo pulls his hand away too quickly, reaching down to grab your thighs and lift you off the ground. He pushes you against the confession both, pressing his cock into your hole while his lips attack yours again.

God, it feels good not to be standing. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, and now, you can focus on the cock filling you up. You just get to relax against the soft wooden booth and take what Wonwoo is giving you.

The kiss is a hungry one, his tongue battling yours as he finds a quick pace. You’ve been fucked by three other men already, but it still feels so good to have Wonwoo inside of you like this. 

You tangle your fingers in his soft curls, moaning desperately while he rails you against the confession booth. Your mind goes pleasantly blank. With Wonwoo, no words have to be said, you can feel what he’s expressing, can feel how much he cares for you. 

The angle he’s holding you in has his cock hitting deep, teasing that special spot that has your toes curling. Each smack of his hips against your own has your clit being teased, a consistent pressure that’s quickly tightening the knot in your abdomen again.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper.

“You’re close?” he asks, sounding a little shocked as he breaks the kiss to look at you.

“Sensitive,” you remind him, pouting out your lower lip as you cup his cheek. “You feel so good.”

He releases a groan, kissing you again. 

Wonwoo’s not Cheol. He doesn’t make you beg for an orgasm. He’ll simply give it to you- kiss you stupid while his body does the work of getting you to cloud nine. 

You allow the orgasm to build naturally. There’s no demanding that it comes, no countdowns or ‘cum with me’s- Wonwoo cumming with you is a given. He has selfcontrol, and he holds out till the moment your pussy clamps down on his cock.

The two of you groan into each other’s mouths, Wonwoo’s fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he fucks you through it. You cling to him desperately while he eats up all your sounds of pleasure. 

For a moment, you’re not some free-use whore being tossed around a group of men in a church- it’s just you and Wonwoo.

You get lost in him, your orgasm feeling endless- but all good things must end, and soon, Wonwoo’s motions stop. His cock stays buried inside of you, his body pressing your own against the confessional while you both breathe heavily between kisses.

Finally, Wonwoo pulls away. He stares at you for a moment, more unspoken communication making your heart swell. He sets you onto your feet gently, helping you stand with one hand while he does up his pants.

Then he takes off his dog tag, leaning in close as he puts it around your neck. “I hate this,” he whispers, and you can’t be sure that he’s only talking about the act of owning you with the chain on your throat.

Wonwoo moves away, and you open your mouth to say more- but you’re cut off by someone clearing their throat. Your gaze shifts to Seungcheol, who stands from the pew he was sitting at. “One more to go, princess.”

Joshua grins, stepping forward. “How should we do this?”

It takes a moment for you to realize he’s not asking you. Seungcheol lets up a deep breath. “Honestly, knowing my insatiable princess, I’d say she could take both of us. You can fuck her ass, priest, but her pussy belongs to us.”

You hate the tingle of excitement that runs through you, your eyes dipping to the front of Seungcheol’s pants, where he’s already growing hard again. 

“You’re the boss,” Joshua muses, watching the unit leader step toward you.

Seungcheol takes you into his arms, one hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. “You’ve been so good for us,” he says softly. “Gonna keep being good, right?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can bring him in for a kiss.

The touch of your lips is short-lived. Seungcheol gets down onto the ground, lying flat while he helps you on top of him. “I’ll fuck this pretty pussy,” he announces, undoing his belt for the second time tonight, “and you can lube up Joshua with a taste of your mouth.”

“Okay, sir,” you whimper, looking down between your bodies to watch him pull out his cock. The moment it’s free, he lines it up with your core, his warm hands finding your hips to help you sink onto him.

You both let out moans of pleasure, your eyes closing as you begin to bob up and down slowly. 

The sound of another belt being undone draws your gaze to Joshua, who’s come to stand next to you and Cheol. “Open wide,” he tells you, grabbing the base of his cock and pumping.

You look up at the priest, doing as you’re told. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he slowly pushes his cock past your lips. He doesn’t go in all the way, only giving you half, and waiting expectantly for you to begin sucking him off.

As you hollow your cheeks, digging your nails into Seungcheol’s chest for leverage, the unit leader begins rutting up into you. You can’t help but moan around Joshua’s cock, and you watch as he lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing the back of your head so he can hold you still. He begins to fuck your face, and once again, you’re just a fuck toy caught between two alpha males.

You know what comes next, know that Joshua will be in your ass soon, so you do your best to lube him up with your spit. It’s clear that your wet mouth is driving the priest into a frenzy, his cock hitting the back of your throat now with each thrust.

You’re doing your best not to gag, your eyes welling with tears that you blink away as you gaze up at the priest. 

“She’s so pretty when she cries,” Joshua muses, wiping away one of the tears with his thumb.

“Our little princess is always pretty,” Seungcheol insists with a grunt, forcing you to take his cock fully, keeping you pinned on his hips. “Are you going to fuck her ass or not?”

Joshua pulls himself from your mouth, clearly amused by the lines of drool that still connect him to you. “Be good for us,” Joshua says sweetly.

Seungcheol tugs you to his chest, his hands moving to your ass where he spreads your cheeks for the man who sinks to his knees behind you. 

You feel Joshua’s tip rub against your hole, and you do your best to breathe normally, relaxing your body so you can take him as he slowly pushes inside.

There’s nothing in the world like being full- with cum, with cock, with everything-

“This is too hot,” Jeonghan’s voice makes you look up. “Wanna suck me off too, kitten? If you don’t, I might bust all over myself from this view alone.”

At this point, your mind is fuzzy, and you can’t help but nod, sitting up and opening your mouth for Jeonghan.

“There’s our good kitten,” he grins, immediately whipping out his dick and slotting it past your lips. “Fuck, so fucking good for us. I know you love it when you get three cocks at once. Our little kitten with her kink for being completely full-”

At this point, there are no thoughts swirling around in your head, only the feeling of three men filling you up to their heart’s desire. Seungcheol and Joshua find a push-pull motion that has tension building in your abdomen much too easily. Jeonghan, meanwhile, is fucking you slowly, taking his time and releasing groans as you suck him off.

The tip of Jeonghan’s cock hits the back of your throat, and your body convulses, making both Joshua and Seungcheol moan loudly. Their fingers dig into your skin, you can feel hot breath against your chest and shoulders.

“You know,” Seungcheol groans, “A priest really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Not so willingly, at least,” Jeonghan adds.

“Well,” Joshua sighs loudly, “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you all that I’m not actually a priest.”

“What?” Jeonghan and Seungcheol stop thrusting, and you sputter as Jeonghan’s cock slips from your lips, taking haggard breaths.

“It’s not like any of you asked for a resume when I showed up here,” Joshua jokes.

“That’s because you were dressed as a fucking priest?!” Seungcheol’s voice is raising now, his fingers digging into your ass while Joshua continues to fuck you nonchalantly.

“I’ve been quite convincing, wouldn’t you say?” You’d bet your life that the ‘priest’ is wearing a shit-eating grin, but at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care.

“Sir,” you whimper, clawing at his chest.

Seungcheol swallows thickly. “We’re gonna make her cum, but you and I are going to have a talk about this later, priest.”

Jeonghan presents his cock to you again, and you take it into your mouth. You suck on him hard, wanting to get him as close to the edge as you are. In response, Jeonghan begins to fuck your face again, hitting the back of your throat so your body clenches around Joshua and Seungcheol.

“Fuck,” the unit leader moans, landing a slap across your ass that has your mind spinning. “Need you to cum for us,” he tells you. “Need you to be a good little cock whore and take what we give you.”

You moan loudly around Jeonghan, getting lost in the feeling of being so completely full that you can’t think straight.

Seungcheol lets go of your ass, bringing his thumb to your clit-

The first rough drag of his digit across the sensitive bud triggers your orgasm, and you practically scream around Jeonghan, entire body fizzling with electric energy.

“Fuck-” Jeonghan groans, giving one last thrust before he cums down your throat, holding your head so your nose touches his pelvis, not allowing you to go anywhere as you sputter and take what he gives you.

Seungcheol and Joshua let out moans of their own, and you can feel the heat of them cumming too, filling up both of your holes to a point that’s almost dizzying. 

Jeonghan pulls out of your mouth and you immediately slump down against Seungcheol’s chest, body shaking as you struggle to breathe. Joshua also retreats. You can feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks, too many emotions swirling around in your post orgasmic haze for you to even keep track of.

“Sit up for me, princess, let’s get a look at you,” Seungcheol insists, stroking your back.

With a deep breath, you slowly sit up, rubbing at your eyes.

Joshua comes to stand in front of you, an expression akin to concern on his face. “You’re forgiven for your sins,” he tells you.

Wonwoo scoffs loudly.

The priest reaches up, taking off his cross necklace. As he begins to hold it over your head, intent on adding his claim to the four that already hang around your throat, Wonwoo grabs his hand roughly. Then your sniper tears the cross from Joshua’s grasp, throwing it across the church. “Don’t even fucking try it,” Wonwoo growls. “She doesn’t belong to you. This was a one-time thing.”

“And you’re the one making decisions now?” Seungcheol glares, sitting up and pressing his palms flat to the floor behind himself to balance, his abs moving under pretty skin. 

“Kitten should choose,” Jeonghan agrees. “Like she did at the start.”

“Look at her,” Wonwoo insists, voice breaking. “We all fucked her brains out. She’s not making any big decisions right now. In fact-” Wonwoo reaches down and picks your dress off the ground, helping you put it on, “We’re taking her home. Gyu.”

Your largest lover encircles his arms around you, lifting you up and off Cheol without a question asked. You tuck in close to his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying the bridal style of the carry. 

“Clearly this wasn’t punishment enough for your subordinate who likes to talk back,” Joshua muses, speaking to Cheol while he watches you, Wonwoo and Mingyu head toward the church doors.

Wonwoo’s fist clenches at his side, Mingyu looks back, but no one says anything else. You pass out in Mingyu’s arms while they carry you back to the Z1 dorm. Mingyu lays you on a bed softly, immediately cuddling up to your side. He begins to stroke your hair and you open your eyes when you feel a warm cloth cleaning your inner thighs.

“Hey, beautiful,” Wonwoo looks up at you. “How are you feeling.”

“Okay,” you murmur.

Wonwoo frowns, exchanging a look with Mingyu. 

“Did i say something wrong?” you ask.

“No, it’s just…” Wonwoo swallows thickly, “usually you say ‘good’ or ‘great’ or ‘amazing.’”

“Oh. sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to us.” Wonwoo finishes cleaning up the mess between your legs, and he tosses the cloth on the floor, getting onto the bed with you. You curl up against his chest, and Mingyu presses to your back, his soft fingers caressing you. “We shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Wonwoo insists. “But we shouldn’t talk about this right now. You need rest.”

The mention of sleeping makes you yawn, and you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth that your protectors provide. “Goodnight.”

Mingyu presses a kiss to your shoulder as you begin to drift off. “Goodnight, baby.”

Epilogue

It’s been a week since the orgy in the church, and you’ve spent every night since then cuddled between Wonwoo and Mingyu, thinking heavily about yourself and the relationship you have with the men in your life.

You wake up on the seventh day with your mind set. Wonwoo’s already awake, sitting silently and staring at the wall while acting as your pillow. He looks down at you when you stir, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome,” you retort, loving the way his new petname tastes on your lips. “Can I… can I be vulnerable with you for a moment?”

“Always,” he assures you, nudging Mingyu to wake him up.

The man behind you groans, but presses kisses to your shoulder nonetheless. “What’s happening?”

“Baby has something to tell us,” Wonwoo says softly.

“Okay, baby.” Mingyu speckles more kisses along your skin, tucking closer to your back.

“I think… I think I need to end things with Jeonghan and Seungcheol.” You’re shocked at the resolve in your tone, but at the same time, the declaration feels right. 

“What?” Mingyu holds you tighter, kisses ceasing.

“When I entered this dynamic, I never thought I’d pick favourites,” you explain, “but I think it’s clear that I have. It’s clear to me now that you two care for me in a different way than they do- and… I’d rather focus on this, what we three have, then betray myself with them any longer.”

You’re proud of yourself for putting all your chaotic thoughts into such simple words, and you wait patiently for a response.

“I think that’s a good decision,” Wonwoo says finally, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I just feel like- I mean, I love Jeonghan, I love Seungcheol, but I’m not in love with them. Not in the way that I’m in love with you guys… and I think… I think you’re both in love with me too.”

Mingyu lets out a soft groan. “It’s been hard not to say it.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t,” you whisper, reaching to thread your fingers with his hand resting on your hip.

“It wasn’t you,” Mingyu reassures, “it was the way the five of us worked. It didn’t feel like there was room to say it.”

“Well you can say it now.”

“I love you,” Mingyu groans, squeezing your hand. “Fuck, I do. I do love you. A stupid amount.”

“I love you too,” you grin, light airy energy surging through your body. You find yourself looking up at Wonwoo. “Do you love me?”

“Is that even a question?” He lets out a small laugh, cupping your cheek. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”

“I wish we’d all said it earlier,” you admit. “I came into this living each day like it might be my last, but I neglected to do the one thing that’s most important- I didn’t tell either of you how I felt, and I promise I’m going to make up for it every day I have with the two of you.”

You’ll talk to Jeonghan and Seungcheol later. You can deal with whatever reactions they have, as long as Mingyu and Wonwoo are by your side.

Seungcheol has always called you insatiable. He’s made you feel like a needy whore who couldn’t get enough- and yet, that final penance was more than enough. It made you realize that you are satiated- by love, not lust. 

You’ve paid your dues, your penance is complete, and now, even during an apocalypse, you can finally try to secure a life for yourself that you always wished for, with your two protectors. You can finally be happy, and fulfilled. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I really don't know how this happened, but uh.... I want them. If you liked this one, I've done this pairing before here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. It’s practically perfect to have Mingyu worshiping between your thighs while Wonwoo is the anchor at your back, whispering soft nothings in your ear and massaging your breasts. This is what love is, and you’re so fucking happy you’ve found it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, pussy eating, oral, deep throating, fingering, breast play/worship, overstim, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of old bdsm style ‘rules’/begging, soft boy lovers, dirty talk, praise, size kink, hand job, stroking wonwoo while mingyu rails you, multiple sex positions (sideways, doggy, etc…),   I petnames. (hers) beautiful, baby, etc… (mingyu’s) puppy. (wonwoo’s) handsome.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.4k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 staring. Mingyu & Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You love the feeling of sun on your face. The warmth reminds you of your two lovers, who hang back, sitting on a barricade a hundred feet away. There are no supply runs today, so Mingyu and Wonwoo have taken to shadowing you at a respectful distance, giving you and Hansol your space to putter around the garden and tend to the growing food.

“You seem happier lately,” Hansol muses as he digs holes to plant beet seeds Wonwoo had found for you on his last trip to the city.

“I am,” you admit, gazing over at the two men who are chatting and laughing together. “It’s nice to be spending more time in the garden again.”

“And I see you’ve picked up your cafeteria tasks with Seokmin again,” Hansol points out. “I know he missed you for a few months.”

“Yeah, I had a lot going on at the time.”

You’ve never outwardly spoken with Hansol about your prior arrangement with Z1, but you can tell he’s noticed Seungcheol and Jeonghan not pulling you away anymore. Your closest survivor friends are too respectful to ask for details, but it’s been a few weeks since you’d ‘broken up’ with the elder Z1’s, and you think you’re finally ready to talk about it a little.

“My priorities weren’t straight,” you continue.

“But it looks like they are now,” Hansol says, straightening to look at the men on the barricade. “You all look a lot happier.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.4k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @aaniag

svt taglist:

@rebeccasficrecs - @alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @greysdarling

@joonsneptune - @candidupped - @cheolussy

@yourfavoritefreakyhan - @asjkdk

thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

@walkxthexmoon - @mingy0u - @stolasisyourparent - @xoxoluz666

@xcynthiaaa - @leah-rose03 - @aaniag - @hannieween

[separatist-apologist]

Guilty As Sin

Summary: Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her.

And now he has her.

TW: Dubious consent, blood kink, knife play

Read On AO3

-

It would be, perhaps, Rhysand’s greatest triumph to kill Tamlin Rosewood. After all, Tamlin had set him down this path so many years before—when they’d been teenagers, two boys from questionable, if not wealthy homes, looking for something to make them feel alive. Tamlin had asked Rhys if he wanted to see something cool, and then let him watch as Tamlin sliced apart a local vagrant. It should have been horrifying. Disgusting.

And yet Rhysand had found the whole thing fascinating. More fascinating still was how easy it was to claim his first kill. Rhysand needed a moral code to keep himself in line, to keep from just jamming a blade into every person who passed him on the street. Tamlin had suggested it, too, perhaps recognizing Rhys’ propensity for violence. Or maybe he knew all too well how enjoyable snuffing out life was. How close to God it made Rhys feel.

Pick those that can fight back.

People who’ve wasted their life.

Do the world a  favor.

Of course they’d eventually turn on each other. How long before two serial killers realized the world might be better off without at least one of them? It had been a cat and mouse game ever since, trying to catch the other unaware and going to ground when they failed. Tamlin had come close a couple times while Rhys had mostly just watched.

Waited.

Bided his time until Tamlin genuinely believed himself to be a god. That Rhys was so afraid of him he wouldn’t dare. Tamlin had let his guard down just enough to find himself a girlfriend he apparently liked. And she, Rhys decided, was going to be how he finally killed Tamlin. Collateral in their feud, he told himself. After all, any woman dumb enough to fall for Tamlin wasn’t worth much. 

He’d looked her up—Feyre Archeron. Her profile picture on facebook was an artbrush, but she’d helpfully listed every job she’d ever had since high school—and there had been many. Rhys ran them all down until he got to the art studio she taught at and, because he liked a little drama in his life, signed him up for one of her intro classes. 

He had been unaware he would be the only adult in said class until a wave of bouncy, giggly children had stormed through the doors, taking seats at easels while their parents vanished. He could have slipped out—he’d meant to, he swore it. But Feyre Archeron had come waltzing in wearing a baby blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem hanging just beneath her ass, and oh. Rhys stayed in his chair, if only to admire the curve of her hips in those cotton soft leggings.

She didn’t seem like Tamlin’s usual type. There was a softness to her features, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose alongside a splatter of violet ink in those cerulean eyes, that made Rhys certain she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her full mouth curved into an easy smile, gaze settling on him.

“Did you mean to sign up for this?” she asked him, eliciting another round of giggles from the children. There was no malice to her words, playful and sweet. He wanted to put his hands on her. Was she corruptible? Oh, how Rhys wanted to find out. His plans reshaped themselves as they looked at the other, though Feyre didn’t know it. Killing her wasn’t an option, not anymore. No. He’d take her for himself, stripping Tamlin of everything he cared about before finally spilling his blood. And he’d start with perfect, pretty Feyre Archeron.

Rhys offered her a lazy smile, running a hand through his ebony hair. “My skill level is comparable, I’m certain.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she replied, her delight evident. Rhys felt her amusement reflected in his own body. When was the last time anyone had charmed him by sight alone? Nevermind how funny he found her, watching as she interacted with each student with the kind of unending patience he could only dream of. It begged the question—what did Tamlin want with her? He knew Tamlin, and of all the virtues Tamlin might claim to have, patience certainly wasn’t one of them.

He had a famously vicious temper. 

Did Feyre know her boyfriend was a serial killer? Did Tamlin know his girlfriend taught school children in her spare time? What would be more abhorrent to who? Rhys never managed to untangle that, just like he never managed to make his brush strokes half as nice as the eight year old beside him. Rhys lingered, waiting until the kids were gone and Feyre was cleaning up to say something to her.

“I’m not some kind of weirdo, I hope you know,” he began, drawing a pretty laugh from prettier lips. 

“No? I might have thought so if I hadn’t seen how abysmal you are with a brush. I teach preschoolers on Tuesdays. You might be better suited in that class.”

“You wound me, Ms. Archeron,” he replied, one hand pressed to his chest. “You didn’t like my house?”

“Oh, was that what it is?” she asked, squinting at his muddied colors on the paper. “I thought you were painting me a stormy sky.”

“I’ll paint whatever you tell me to,” Rhys quipped, noting how her cheeks flushed. No ring on her finger—god, but how incredible to seduce her out from under Tamlin’s nose. For Tamlin not to realize he was losing everything to his old nemesis. How long before Tamlin learned of Rhysand’s treachery? Rhysand was a patient man. It was one of his better qualities, few as they were.

He’d send Tamlin a wedding invitation inked in blood, fuck his new wife, and then, as a gift to her, bring her Tamlin’s still beating heart.

Wife? That was a weird thought.

Rhys cleared his head. He was merely excited at the prospect of punishing Tamlin—that was all. Feyre was beautiful, but hardly wife material. Besides, the kind of woman who spent her time teaching children to color within the lines didn’t want to get shackled to the likes of him. Not long-term, at any rate. Rhys had dated plenty of women, all of whom woke up one morning deeply unsettled and certain they were making a mistake. He couldn’t blame them—he would make an awful husband. 

A good lay, though? He could give her that. 

“Watch yourself Rhysand.”

“Come, now,” he said, rising from the little metal stool he’d been sitting on. She was so much smaller than him—lithe and lovely, so breakable in a way that made him want to be careful rather than rough. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“Fine. Watch yourself Rhys. I’ll think you’re flirting if you’re not careful,” Feyre said, twisting that thick, golden brown hair off her face with a paintbrush. Something within him stirred at the sight of wispy tendrils framing her face, fingers twitching with the urge to brush them from her cheekbones. 

“Careful isn’t how anyone who knows me would describe me. Besides…maybe I am flirting.”

This was the part where she told him she had a boyfriend. Rhys waited, catching the flicker of indecision streak over her features. He could practically hear her rationalizing it in her mind—there was no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, Tamlin. Rhys cocked his head. How far could he take this before she broke? If he could just get his hands into those tight leggings of hers, she’d forget all about that blonde haired bastard. C’mon, Rhys urged.

His silent plea fell on deaf ears. Too good for the likes of him, Feyre said, “Well, if you were flirting, I’d have to tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky him,” Rhys replied, gut twisting despite his easy expression. “I know when I’ve been beat. See you around Feyre.”

And then he left, still smiling to himself as he went. She had no idea, of course. 

But Rhys would be seeing her very soon.

– 

Feyre stared down at the meal, ruined again. Behind her, Tamlin practically seethed with unseen anger. She could feel him working to leash his temper, to resist the urge to tell her I told you so.

I told you you’re a terrible cook.

“I’ll order dinner,” Tamlin said, ignoring the way Feyre blinked back tears. Bracing the ledge of the sink, she stared out the open window into the dark. She was trying—didn’t that matter? It wasn’t that badly burned, besides. They could have eaten around it. Feyre wished Tamlin would sit down, tell her it looked good, and eat it. Was that so much to ask? 

Apparently, given the heavy, long-suffering sigh from the man behind her. “You don’t need to try so hard, Feyre. You have me.”

“It’s—” She choked back the urge to scream that it wasn’t about impressing him. It was about care, about showing him that she loved him in some tangible way. Doing something for him so that he, in turn, might do something for her. Might do or say something that made her feel seen and safe. 

It had been a year of the stretching silence and the long sighs. Of not technically doing anything that would cause her to break up with her, all while giving off an air of not liking her very much. Well—that wasn’t fair. When the lights were out and they were in bed, Tamlin was very attentive. Detached, somehow—he never wanted her to look him in the eye—but he knew every place to touch and tease to make her writhe. And that was too often enough to convince her it was better to stay and hope whatever was bothering him faded and he went back to the love sick fool she’d first fallen in love with.

It didn’t help that Rhysand—Rhys—was still lodged firmly in her brain three days post meeting him. He’d been…well…he’d been beautiful. And charming. And funny, too. Endearing, even, as the kids teased him for his poor paint work. And when he’d said he was flirting, well…Feyre had imagined sending Tamlin a quick text message.

This is over. Don’t call me again. 

Throwing away a year on a man with a roguish smile seemed like a call for help. Still, he’d been on her mind, unshakable as her relationship with Tamlin stagnated like pond water. He ordered food without consulting her, ate it silently, all the while staring at his phone. He worked for a security firm and spent so much time watching the cameras, tracking people with a single-minded devotion she wished he’d focus on her.

“I’m going out,” he told her abruptly, only after Feyre had changed into a tiny slip of a nightdress, thinking she’d feel better if they at least had sex. His pine green gaze slid down her body without a hint of interest or appreciation. Just an acknowledgement that she had nearly every inch of her skin out for him before looking back to her face. “You can wait up, if you want.” How romantic, she wanted to scream. She felt utterly pathetic, a neglected housewife married for twenty years while her husband had an affair. Only Tamlin’s affair was with his job and Feyre would never come first. 

Say nothing, she ordered herself. And yet her traitorous lips said, “Couldn’t it wait another night?”

He regarded her without emotion. “It can’t. Get some sleep, Feyre. I’ll be in later.” Tamlin turned without a look back, swiping his car keys thrown haphazardly on the dresser, and strode from the room. Feyre didn’t, listening to the sound of the soft snick of the closing door and the sound of tires pulling away from the curb.

What was more pathetic, she wondered as she padded into the kitchen for a drink for water? Staying up late to seduce him, thus allowing him to have everything he wanted without doing any work at all, or staying with him when she was so miserable in the first place? Was this love?

Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer any of those questions. 

There, in the hall, stood a tall, muscular…man? They certainly seemed masculine, with broad shoulders that tapered into a rather nice waist beneath that high necked sweater. Matching black pants and a belt would have made him look rather nice, had he not been holding a massive, jagged knife in one gloved hand.

The ghost face mask obscuring his features didn’t help, either. Feyre didn’t move, heart hammering against her ribs. Scream. Run. Do something.

“There you are,” a deep, rich voice spoke from beneath the mask, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don’t hurt me,” Feyre whispered, rooted in place as he made his way towards her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drinking in the heady smell of his cologne and that horrible knife glinting beneath the artificial lights beaming overhead. 

With his free hand, he reached toward her and to her credit, Feyre didn’t flinch. She merely stood utterly still as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone before sliding his gloved thumb over her lip.

“Hurt you? Darling, I’m here to rescue you.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of those dark words dripping with the promise of…the promise of what? Feyre tried a step backward, tripping over her own nervous feet to fall to the ground. The man lunged and she braced herself for the pain of his blade, for blood and misery before finally death. But all she found was fingers around her body, hoisting her into the air.

She flailed, heel connecting with his jaw. He swore and the two fell to the ground gracelessly a second time, him tearing her nightdress to keep her pinned beneath him.

“I do so like you like this,” he all but growled as she tried to yank that mask off his face. If she was going to kill her, she deserved to look him in the eyes. His fingers curled around her wrists, subduing her quickly—easily, before gathering both in one big, broad hand. The other came over her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered as she kicked out her legs from beneath him. Why was this happening? She was going to die. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. How could he say that as he was suffocating her with his hand? She  continued to writhe, for all the good it did her, her screaming mind drowning out the words her attacker was saying. Lungs burning, desperately trying to gasp for air, Feyre couldn’t control her limbs. She felt herself getting dizzy, choking on her own pooling spit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” her attacker said, his voice far away. “Stop fighting me and I’ll remove my hand.” Her body went limp as she complied immediately, willing to do anything if it meant she could breathe again. And true to his word, her attacker removed his hand, letting her take a gasping, sobbing breath of air. 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, caressing her cheek a second time. “If you do everything I say, no one has to get hurt. Can you stand?”

“No,” Feyre said, eyes closed as she focused only on the sensation of air in her body. She wasn’t going to help him abduct her, besides. Not that it mattered. He had her wrists bound before he picked her back up like she was weightless to him, walking her toward her front door with ease.

“My boyfriend has cameras on the door,” she said, unsure if she was warning this man or helping him. “He’s going to see you.”

A chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “Oh, I am well aware. Your boyfriend is too busy hunting tonight to check…and by the time he does, you and I will be long gone.”

The cool night air was like a caress against her clammy skin. Feyre saw the car—sleek and dark—parked so brazenly in the drive. 

“The police will find you,” she warned, deciding for a little boldness despite her swimming head and desperate desire to fall asleep.

“That would require Tamlin to call them…and he won’t. No, my darling—this is personal and you’re simply caught up in the middle of it. Now—can I trust you to behave in my back seat, or do you need to go in the trunk? I don’t want to put you back there…but I will.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre demanded, mind swimming.

“I mean, I don’t want to die on the road—”

“About hunting,” she interrupted, looking up at that ghostface mask. “About Tamlin not calling the police.”

Her attacker seemed to hesitate, muscles going taut beneath her. “I had a whole presentation planned. Why spoil it?”

“Tell me.”

“Your boyfriend is a killer—just like me. He taught me, in fact—or rather, we taught each other. He can’t involve the police without risking himself so he won’t.”

“Am I bait?”

“Oh, Feyre darling, you are so much more than that. For now, you’re merely my guest. Now—can I trust you in the car?”

Ferye closed her eyes. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to be careful. She had the thought just as her attacker laid her in the back of his car. She panicked, seeing him hovering over her, and immediately kicked him in the throat. He stumbled back as Feyre filled her lungs with air and screamed. She didn’t yell help—but screamed at the top of her lungs hoping a neighbor would come out.

“Fucking shit,” the kidnapper groaned, lunging forward. With her wrists bound, Feyre couldn’t do much, especially when he picked her back up. “Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want—-” She screamed directly against his ear, causing him to jerk back a step. He didn’t speak, merely popped his trunk and dumped her unceremoniously inside.

“Remember I tried,” he said before slamming it shut. Feyre immediately started looking for the little hatch that would open it, pulling it with her teeth.

The masked man was waiting, arms crossed over his chest. “Why must you make this difficult?”

“I hate you,” she bit back, heart racing in her throat. He only sighed before producing masking tape. After a moment, she found it pressed over her eyes and mouth before he bound her ankles, too.

“Open my trunk and roll out,” he dared her, the sound of his voice somehow more terrifying than the sight of him. “See how far that gets you.”

He slammed the trunk again, leaving Feyre alone in the dark. She screamed against the tape, trying to break it until her wrists were raw. He’d begun driving, the music faint through the fabric of the backseats. Would it have been smarter to pretend to be his friend? To lull him into a false sense of security? Feyre had never been particularly patient. In fact, she was spontaneous to a fault, acting without thinking and hoping it all worked out. Of course, that was for school assignments and ghosting friends—never because she’d been kidnapped.

Think, Feyre. 

She couldn’t, though. Not beyond her immediate problem, which was the tape over her mouth and eyes. If she could just get it off, Feyre thought she’d be able to think more clearly. Figure out a plan and execute it. She rubbed until her wrists ached and her head pounded, but at no point did she manage to do anything but chafe her skin, exhaling for air roughly through her nose. 

Eventually, the car came to a stop, the music cutting off abruptly. Lost to the dark, Feyre went limp as the sound of shoes on gravel flooded her senses. A moment later, cold air rushed into the trunk as hands lifted her in the air.

“You’re a terrible actress,” her captor murmured, his amusement plain. “I’m going to unbind you when we get inside. Are you listening to me? Nod your head.” Feyre did.

She heard the sound of numbers being keyed into a pad followed by the smell of warm cedar, drowning out the unmistakable scent of snow. Feyre was set on something soft—a sofa, before the tape was peeled off her eyes, and then her mouth. She was in a cabin, she realized. Well decorated and comfortable—and likely remote. Had he taken her up into the Illyrian Mountains?

“People will be looking for me—”

“No they won’t,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the edge of his mask. He was showing her his face? Feyre panicked—the only reason he’d do that was if he didn’t intend for her to tell anyone. She almost begged him not to, but a second later he’d peeled it back, revealing…well. Not what she’d imagined.

He was handsome, the asshole. Dark hair paired with eyes so blue they seemed violet were the first things she noticed. He was staring down at her, his sensual lips curled into a smile. The sharpness of his jaw and his high cheekbones gave him an almost aristocratic air, and his warm, brown skin was utterly unblemished and smooth. 

She’d been imagining him as some ugly man. This was worse, somehow. If he was caught, he’d have prison groupies. People would wonder if he’d really done anything horrible at all given how lovely he was to look at. That charming smile certainly didn’t help. 

"I remember you," she said. "From the art studio."

Rhys grinned. 

“Let me explain to you how things are going to work between us,” he began, running a hand through his thick hair. “There is nowhere for you to run, and if you try, you’re likely to plummet to your death or freeze before I find you. No one is looking for you. Repeat that as often as you need to. Tamlin will make all your excuses. He’s not going to rescue you. Until I’m done, you are at my mercy.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, wishing she could curl herself into a small ball. 

He chuckled. “No, Feyre. I’m not going to kill you. I think we might get along perfectly well so long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

Like running away. The look on his face told her he expected her to. She didn’t have shoes, was dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn’t get far, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he banked on her fear to keep her compliant. 

He made a show of pulling a pocket knife from his pants and freeing her, frowning at her raw, bruised wrists. Feyre drew them against her chest, looking up at him warily. “What now?” He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you remain within these walls.”

Fat chance of that. But Feyre nodded, hoping she looked properly scared. The cabin itself was small, and filled with cameras. He’d see her. Fine. He had to sleep at some point—he couldn’t be monitoring her all day, every day.

It was a bit of a stretch to call it a cabin given the home had two floors. It was remote, though, and seemed to function mostly off the grid, and had a rather nice kitchen she doubted he knew how to use. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a den he seemed to work out of—she wasn’t sure, given he didn’t open that door and merely gestured to it with a casual, don’t go in there.

Maybe it was where he tortured his victims. 

Feyre was given a room down the hall from him, devoid of a lock. “Look up,” he murmured, chin gutting toward the camera. “Wave to Tamlin.”

Feyre glanced up, unsure which of them she hated more. “He can see me?”

“He’ll see this,” Rhys murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s easy enough to send it to him.”

“You could get back at him without involving me,” she heard herself say, wondering if that made her a traitor. This had nothing to do with her, and Feyre felt as if she was being punished unfairly for whatever was going on between Rhys and Tamlin. 

He shrugged. “Consider this a rescue.”

A rescue? Feyre was going to kill him. Maybe he saw it, because he nodded toward the twin bed shoved in the corner. “There’s some clothes in the closet you can use—”

“Who did they belong to?” she demanded, heart leaping in her throat.

“My cousin,” he replied, eyes narrowed. As if he were offended she might suggest there’d been another captive in the room. Feyre didn’t want to think about that—it made her panic all over again. 

Rhys left after a few more self satisfied words around how he’d find her if she tried to escape so not to bother. Feyre wasn’t listening, already thinking about escaping through the window. Was it locked? Her bedroom door wasn’t, which felt like a test. Was he hoping she’d try and escape? 

Feyre sat on the edge of that bed and talked herself into her plan. Ignoring that it was cold and isolated and that she was woefully unprepared, Feyre instead thought about Rhys.

He wasn’t a god. He was only a man. He might have cameras on her, might have her watched, but he couldn’t search miles and miles of forest. The only advantage he had, supposedly, was that he knew she was missing before anyone else did. Feyre had grown up running through the backwoods and something about the slick way Rhys had his hair shoved off his stupid, too-perfect, face, told her he could not boast the same.

Feyre found booties in the back of the closet, and a million pairs of leggings hanging in the closet besides sweaters that were far too big for her frame. They’d double as a blanket, she decided as she pulled it all on. 

He was probably watching her. Feyre turned toward the camera and the blinking red light and offered her middle finger before throwing open that window. 

“For fucks sake!” Rhys’s voice called from somewhere inside the cabin. Feyre scrambled out the window, toppling feet over head into the frigid snow. Rhys’s fingers skimmed her ankle, attempting to drag her back inside. 

Scrambling to her feet as he came right out behind her in that stupid mask, Feyre realized it was a lot harder to run in snow than she’d expected. She had a head start on him for a solid ten seconds before he slammed into her, taking them both back to the ground. Rhys was made of solid muscle and was heavy. 

His bare hand wrapped around her throat, arching her neck upward until his lips touched her ear. “I told you not to,” he said as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get out from under him. 

“I don’t care what you say!” Feyre screamed. Rhys grabbed her arms, holding them in one broad hand as he restrained her thoroughly.

“You will—” he began, but Feyre head butted him, earning a furious curse in her ear. He half fell to his side, losing his grip on her wrists, which gave her time to scramble back to her feet. Rhys was just behind, grabbing her around her middle before hauling her up on his shoulder.

Feyre screamed, and though Rhys stumbled, he didn’t drop her like she’d hoped he would. 

“Scream all you want,” Rhys roared in response, as if he needed to make his point. “No one can hear you!”

“Tamlin is going—”

“He’s not coming!” Rhys interrupted, his fury finally scaring her. She hadn’t been frightened before—not truly. But right then, draped over Rhys’s shoulder while he wore that mask in the dark, his voice dripping with condemnation, Feyre was frightened. He sounded irate, dragging her back into that cabin with sure steps.

He didn’t take her back to that same room. Instead, Rhys dropped her into a different one—one that looked distinctly lived in. One that belonged to him, she realized. Feyre attempted to scramble up but Rhys was consistently faster. He had one leg, and then the other bound to the posts at the end of the footboard.

He sat on the bed beside her, laptop resting on his thigh. He pulled that mask up over his face, tossing it to the bed beside her. 

“Look for yourself,” Rhys snarled, shoving the open messages on the screen in front of her face. “Look and see how much he loves you.”

There were a slew of messages between them, and yet Feyre’s eyes snagged only on one.

Kill her then. 

She waited to see if she’d cry, but nothing came. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not coming for you,” Rhys informed her, eyes bouncing over her face as if he were searching for something. “This is between us, and you’ve become collateral.”

“Then why don’t you kill me?” Feyre snapped, yanking at her ankles trapped in the leather cuffs. They were bondage cuffs, she realized, rather than handcuffs. 

“Why would I kill you?” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “Tamlin might not be mounting some heroic rescue, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t view you as his. His little toy to play with until he gets tired of her…” Rhys murmured, sliding the side of his finger along her neck. “I’m not supposed to touch.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I asked you not to leave,” he continued, ignoring her plea as his fingers made their way down her shoulder. “Left the door open so you knew you could move freely through the house. You’re so desperate to get back to him, but I know what he does to pretty little things like you. Where they end up. How their families mourn.”

“Stop,” she whispered, unsure which terrified her more—his touch, or the threat of what Tamlin might eventually do.

Rhys caught her wrist, binding it over her head before Feyre’s mind could catch up with his actions. She was wholly restrained and he was holding a knife as he walked around the bed. 

“You’re still bait,” he murmured, one hand sliding over a wooden bedpost. “He can see us right now, you know. He’s watching, hoping I’ll kill you before you tell me something you shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” she whispered, trying in vain to wriggle away. 

“If you didn’t know anything, he wouldn’t have responded at all. He’s slipped up—you know something,” Rhys declared, running the sharp edge of his blade across her leggings. The fabric snagged, ripping neatly from ankle to waistband.

“I swear I don’t,” she protested as cool air caressed over her now exposed thighs. He wasn’t done as he ruined that oversized blue sweater, too, leaving her in nothing but the shredded remains of fabric. Violet eyes swept over her now naked form and rather than sadistic amusement, Feyre swore she saw unguarded desire staring back at her.

“You do,” Rhys murmured, pausing between her legs. She tried to hide herself from view, but she was restricted by the restraints. “You just don’t remember.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” Rhys questioned, tossing his knife beside his mask. The weapon left a small impression atop the black duvet, sharp end pointing toward her ribcage as if to warn her not to try anything.

Feyre pulled against her restraints, for all the good it did her. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Rhys told her without moving. He did, however, gesture behind him to a wall half hidden in shadow. There, hanging in a gold frame, hung a familiar work of art. Her first ever painting sold—it was a moody seascape Tamlin had accused of being cliche. She’d been brand new, and yet talented enough to be accepted into a showing where an anonymous buyer had overpaid for it.

Feyre still had that first check tucked away in a desk drawer, and when she felt overwhelmed or dejected, she’d pull it out to look at. That same buyer had purchased something from every collection she’d done, always paying far more than she was asking. 

“That was you?”

“I have an eye for beautiful things you know,” he informed her, his gaze a brand against her skin. 

“You’re jealous?”

“Desperately,” he replied without irony. “It’s always been like that between us. He has everything I want.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to tell him not to do this, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. 

“He’s watching,” Rhys told her, glancing over his shoulder. “Keeps hacking into my system to see what you’re doing. Will you smile for him, Feyre? Let him think you’re happy?”

“Just let me go,” she pleaded as her captor slid to his knees between her legs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t,” he murmured, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “I want to keep you.”

Alive, was the unspoken word between them. Did he realize that was a low bar? A bar already set in hell, so far beneath his feet there ought to be no trouble clearing it. And yet…Feyre turned her head as he kissed up his leg, stomach tight from anxiety. 

“Like this?”

He shrugged. “I’d untie you, but I think you’d kill me with your bare hands if I did.”

“I think you’d like it,” she shot back, squirming when she felt his warm breath tease between her legs. 

“I’m hard just thinking about it,” he agreed with a grin. 

His tongue slid up the center of her pussy before Feyre could think of a good comeback. She yelped, trying—and failing—to escape the feeling. It had been too long since someone had done this for her, which was how Feyre explained the bolt of lust racing through her. He didn’t stop, eyes pinned to her face to see if she liked what he was doing.

Feyre was resolved not to react. Men always tired of this act after a minute or two, doubly so when they weren’t being catered to on their back, but instead forced to kneel. It was easy, at least in the beginning, to ignore his tongue teasing her clit. She thought about how cold the snow had been when she’d fallen out the window and reminded herself he’d shoved her in a trunk. That he was a killer, too, and toying with her boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend. Feyre wasn’t really sure what they were anymore. She supposed they were over, given he’d told Rhys to kill her. Feyre’s eyes slid to the camera in the corner of the room and somehow, she could feel him watching. Could feel his anger, too—as if this were all her fault. As if she’d kidnapped herself, tied herself up, and was now being forced into pleasure, too.

Are you happy now? Feyre wanted to scream it. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys growled, forcing her to look back down at him. How long had it been, anyway? Her body hummed at the loss of contact, proving that though she was trying not to feel anything, she couldn’t block him out entirely.

“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.

“All my time belongs to you now,” was his frustrating reply. He returned his tongue back to her pussy and this time, though she tried, Feyre couldn’t refocus on anything but his touch. It was all wrong—his mask lay on the bed, the knife still pointed toward her, inches away from her exposed skin.

For all she knew, he was lying to her and would kill her when he finished.

“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling on her restraints.

“Come, then,” he said in response, his voice muffled. 

Feyre didn’t want to come. For a while, she writhed against her restraints until he physically pinned her to the bed, holding her still so he could continue his slow torture. Feyre thought he liked when she fought him—that he wanted to bring her under submission. She held herself back, whimpering from the effort as she counted in her head. 

“Do you need a distraction?” Rhys murmured when he heard her reciting the ingredients to a recipe. “Something to turn off that meddling brain of yours?”

“No,” she gasped, but he was on his feet, hands undoing his dark trousers. “I don’t need—I’m fine, I’ll finish—”

“I know you will,” he replied, pulling his long, thick cock from his pants. Feyre couldn’t not look at it as Rhys moved around the bed, extending his restraints so he could reposition her. Feyre fought him, slapping Rhys hard in the face when he undid her arms. He grunted but didn’t react other than to sigh, his frustration plain. With the longer rope, he could tie her hands to the bedposts without overextending her arms while her head now hung off the edge of the bed.

“I won’t,” she informed him.

“You will,” Rhys replied, pinching her nose when she pressed her lips together. As he waited for her to take a breath, he rubbed his cock over her cheek while his other hand slid across her breasts to play with her nipples.

Feyre tried—oh, how she tried—but in the end, she had to take a gasping breath of air. He pushed the head of his cock between her teeth, not caring when sensitive flesh scraped roughly against the jagged edges. The hand that had once pinched her nose now held her throat, squeezing just enough to warn her not to try and bite. 

She did anyway.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned, taking his knife and resting it on her stomach. Feyre didn’t believe he’d use it until he took the hilt and began using the smooth silver to tease against her clit.

She couldn’t argue with him, mouth filled with his cock. She widened her jaw to take a breath as he angled his hips, pushing himself further until he was backed up against her throat. Feyre gagged lightly, praying he wouldn’t keep going. 

She didn’t want to throw up.

Clearly neither did Rhys. Groaning softly, he whispered, “You suck so well.”

She wasn’t doing anything, really—Rhys moved his hips, setting the pace so he could fuck her mouth. Feyre screamed around him when she felt him push the hilt of the knife into her body so he, too, could fuck her with it. He’d been right about one thing—sucking his cock kept her focused on what was happening between her legs. She could think of nothing else, her mind torn between the air coming into her lungs and what Rhys was currently doing with his mouth. 

With his legs spread, he’d returned to licking her clit, focused wholly on that and nothing else. How did he not cut himself on the blade, she wondered as she tried to wriggle the knife out of her pussy.

It didn’t work. Whatever he was doing, he was skilled. Feyre was reacting, her body tightening around the hilt of the blade thanks to the skill of his tongue. Rhys groaned when she sucked in more air than she’d meant to, lips forming a seal around his shaft.

“Just like that baby,” he moaned before picking up his pace. She was going to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Feyre tried, eyes leaking from the cock bruising her throat as saliva dripped down her neck. He was going to come, too.

Quick, she realized with some relief. He was timing himself with her, well aware she was close to completion. At least he wouldn’t draw it out? Or he had something else planned. Feyre didn’t know.

Didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit that this was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. How fucked up was it that she hadn’t been able to get off for months, and now, tied up and forced, she was careening toward the sort of pleasure that threatened to unmake her. Was this how stockholm syndrome worked? Her body, flooded with pleasure, began to think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here with him.

“Keep sucking,” Rhys moaned again, his hips losing some of their controlled rhythm. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. Feyre sucked around him, though she refused to move her head and help him.

Rhys licked faster, moving in precise circles until her hips began to roll into him, chasing the inevitable. Feyre clenched, finding purchase on the hilt of the blade. Rhys rubbed it just against the perfect spot, his tongue unwavering and Feyre was undone. She screamed around his cock, body bowing off the bed and directly into his mouth. She heard him curse though she didn’t care, half ruined from the pleasure now ribboning through her. Feyre was a star, white hot as it erupted over a silent sky.

She’d forgotten, just for a second, he still had his cock buried in her throat. With a twitching jerk, Rhys came into her throat, his come spilling out the sides of her mouth to join the mess of spit pooling along her collarbone. 

Panting, he pulled himself out of her to show her the knife coated in her own release and dripping with blood. His blood, she realized with alarm, noting the gash sliced over his palm.

“I got too excited,” he breathed, wiping it over her naked breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Untie me,” she whispered, tugging against the restraints. “Please, untie me—”

Despite his injured hand, Rhys was quick about it, undoing her hands first, and then her feet. She’d told herself she was going to hit him for what had just happened, but instead Feyre merely sat up while he stepped out, half naked from the waist down, only to return with a warm rag he used to wipe up the mess of come and blood. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her against his chest. 

Feyre looked up at him, unsure if she believed him. “Tamlin told you to.”

“I wouldn’t kill my worst enemy to satisfy him.”

She swallowed. “And…if I wanted to kill him?”

Rhys grinned. “Say less, pretty baby. Say less.”

[ivys-garden]

Life Series Session Recap and Alliance Report: Session 5.

I can't believe they added mettaton to the life series.

Another week means more chaos in the block. This session has the wild card of… morally dubious trivia robots falling for the sky? OK?

It did mean we got more Life Series Oli and we got to find out how little our idiots actually know about their own series. So that's something

But hey lots of stuff that will affect the future of the season happens here, so let's stop dilly dallying and get to it.

The Final Girls (Cleo, Scott, Pearl, Impulse… Bigb!?)

Apparently Scott's desire to keep the team together is stronger than we thought, as despite having no good reason to, he allows Bigb to come back into the crew. Bigb does later try and fail to abandon them for Renwood, but it's the thought that counts.

Also established in the opening to this session, Scott is fully enabling whatever Pearl wants to do… provided what she wants to do is not hide a death pit from him.

No, what Pearl wants to do is murder people, and she has plenty of options since everyone wants to antagonise the girls this session. First Mumbo shows up to mace Cleo in the face, then Gem lures Cleo into a death trap & then Martyn explodes everyone but Pearl.

Naturally Cleo wants to get even with these pesky killers, and when Cleo wants to get even the flames are soon to come. Gem's Barn and Martyn's home are burnt by Cleo & Scott, and yet somehow everyone ends up chilling in the end, with everyone actually agreeing that they're even and that they should stop trying to kill each other. So yeah, no harm, no foul….

Except Ren, he got his house burnt down for no reason.

On the topic of revenge on martyn, Pearl tries to avenge her team by putting Martyns crystal trap back on him… only to blow herself up in the process. What follows might be Pearl's most pathetic showing in the life series as she repeatedly fails to trap Gem or kill Lizzie, still ending the session in red. Scott and his martyr complex come through in the end though and Scott gives one of his life's back to Pearl in a way that mirrors the powdered snow torture or yesteryear, only much wetter.

Oh yeah Impulse was here too. He was trap building’, he was bot nappin’, he was beepin’ N’ boopin’, and he gave up a Trident to acquire a new member… we'll talk about that washout later

Also congrats on Bigb finally getting diamonds, took you long enough.

Also also congrats on Cleo for getting the most difficult question in Trivia correct!... it was 50% a guess and they had help but shhh

The Family. (Gem & Joel)

Yeah I'm calling them the family now. Not because that's a good name, but because while Joel continues to be fast, Gem is no longer furious.

Yes, in this episode the Gals-Fam drama begins to sorta maybe kinda possibly come to a close. It starts with Gem admitting the drama was made up for the sake of having drama and being funny, something most of us guessed since if you think about the drama for more than five seconds you realise how silly and ultimately inconsequential it actually is.

The real amend making starts where all amends are made, in the smouldering remains of your home after the prison you lured into a trap burns it to the ground. Yes if they had not been interrupted by exploding, Gem and the Gals would have called each other even right here. Luckily Gem gets another chance to do this later as Pearl failing a task and having her mouth removed stops her from trying to eat Gem alive for long enough for the two of them to have a chat. In this chat that Pearl has literally no say in, it is agreed that once the two of them go red, they'll “have some fun”. Sp yeah, in the future we are looking at meminiun at a temporary alliance between Pearl & Gem.

(Also Gem and Joel try to get Pearl to betray Scott, which marks the second time this has happen this season)

In other stuff Gem builds possibly the worst tower I've ever seen. So I'm happy Cleo burnt that down. Of more consequence she also builds their very own Creeper spawner. Very dangerous in the hands of Joel.

Speaking of Joel he has a rollercoaster this session. He has many notable successes such as creating two hidden cow spawners, a chicken farm and braving the never to get Potion ingredients. But he also got his ugly car exploded by Skizz and got smashed and banged by Tango.

He did manage a three block jump over Etho's head though so I'd say this was his best session of the entire life series.

Renwood (Martyn & Ren)

Rambert last session when I said Scott probably regrets being teamed with 3 little chaos goblins? Yeah translate that to Ren this session. Martyn is an absolute menace and there is no way Ren will achieve his goal of “extinguishing the evil within this man”. Martyn is tricking folks into messing up Trivia, he's killing Gem with creepers despite being allied, he's killing The Gals right after seeing Cleo burn down Gems entire base, he might be the most chaotic one here.

That isn't to say Martyn doesn't get his narrative comeuppance, he gets ravaged off his own base and exploded by Pearl, but Ren still gets a lot of bad vibes his way due to Martyns actions. At least he can still rely on Jimmy to be his friend and not burn his house down on accident.

Speaking of burning, good luck doing that now. The mound has officially been flattened, no longer teh Ren Mound it is now In-The-Little-Lake and has been flooded with water in a rare showcase of a Ren plan working and being a big brain move overall.

However, while creating the lake, the most important discovery was made

THEY FOUND THAT STUPID HORSE! WOOOOOOOOO

anyway.

The Tuff Guys (Tango, Bdubs & …Etho?)

Bdubs starts the episode being objectively wrong about a game he's played for decades.

Due to his bad leadership last session, Etho takes over and immediately starts try harding, requiring everyone to get stacks of food, iron, the souls of the damned and probably other stiff to tbh I wasn't listening. Luckily neither were Bdubs or Tango so we're good

Speaking of Tango, despite getting of to a rock start of sucking and being pathetic, he does manage to get two pretty impressive kills on Joel, once with a mace and another with creepers. He also manages to stick a snail on Skizz by botnapping him while he was distracted by his, Impy and Pearls robot voice. He failed every other single trap he tried but it's something.

Now, more important horse news, Bdubs got his!... Etho immediately killed it since it was better than his. But bdubs got a new one! He needed 3 people to help him on it since he acquired the big curse at the time but he got the horse!

While he wasn't being a try hard, horse killer, or stunt ramp, Etho was off performing a very important task, Betrayal! But is it betrayal if they openly admit they won't help you or share their stuff? Yep Etho has made moves to leave the Tuff Guys, being the second member to do so, only with more success than bdubs. So, did he go off to his family? Nope. He went off to become one of the Final Girls. Etho officially joins that team and all it cost them was a Trident. How will this go over with the Family and the Tuff Guys? Who knows. That's the growth thing about the life series: everything is stupid and nothing is predictable, so don't worry!

The Bamboozelers (Jimmy, Scar, Lizzie)

Everyone says these 3 are doomed… including me I said that. But we all are wrong, these 3 are being extremely big brained and brave.

Let's start with Lizzie, she helps the team come up with a safety code word to bring people back up the mountain. She braves the Nether. She builds an ender porter to bring people to Bam Mountain safely & she survives several attempts on her life, including one from Pearl. She only falls into two traps, being killed by Skizz and having her Bot hidden resulting in the return of her snail. She also had one failed plan, a Drowned spawner plan to get Trident Drowned to kill people for Jimmy, but not a bad showing.

It's a toss up between Gem, Joel and Impulse for who will win, but I'm gonna go all in and sat Lizzie wins, just because I want her too.

Then there's Scar who makes some great diplomacy plays. Despite a rocky start to their relationship that might have actually caused the desertduo side of tumblr to explode, Scar and Grian are able to work out a peace deal between them, Scar gets a mace and in exchange they don't kill each other. Scar gets a lot more than just a mace though, he gets what he's always wanted: Friendship.

He also manages to get the Enchanter back and finds a great hiding spot for it. On top of this Scar also strengthens pre existing alliances with Gem, Martyn and Skizz, even helping Skizz in a Fast Na Furious style boat race to reclaim his out bot.

OK, Jimmy… yeah tbh Jimmy kinda underperformed compared to last session. He got toured by trivia bot, died to the ravager instead of checking his hotbar for his pearls, failed repeatedly to kill Scott and also killed himself in Impulse's lava trap. He got no kills this session and all his traps failed. He did blow a massive hole in the side of the Final Girl's tower for no reason tho.

Gem, seeing this utter failure tried to help Jimmy kill Scott, only for him to sacrifice himself to Pearl. Now Jimmy is in the hard possession of killing his family or his teammate. But hey, as long as he isn't first out, he's won

And on that note…

The Spanners (Grian & Skizz.)

…Let's start with skizz. He was really good! He got a good kill on Lizzie and one on Bigb too. Bigb wasn't Dark green but he's certainly got the spirit. He should also be kept away from the Bam Lands from now on, he gets spotted there way too easily. Scar isn't even that observant, it's kinda embarrassing.

Skizz does also do some alliance work, vowing never to kill Lizzie again due to how much he hates doing it. Lizzie repays him by literally babying him and dumping him on Ren.

Then there's Grian, he and Mumbo were able to collaborate revenge on Scar, even though he was too big and Mumbo couldn't speak. They buried Scars Bot Super low and neither he now Ren could find it.

And than, somehow, eSCARgot returned.

Feeling bad for an incredibly cheap kill, Grian did work with Scar to set aside there differences and create an alliance. Now with revenge off the agenda, all that was left was getting Mumbo a life.

Grian built a great tower, and within it built two super speedy tnt launchers. These were incredible basketballs for destroying the tower bdubs spent all session building, but in terms of netting kills for Mumbo… not very good.

Mumbo fell off that tower trying to get a kill.

Mumbo, desperate for a kill, begged Gem to die.

And when Gem was walking down the stairs with Jimmy, Mumbo got too desperate.

Mumbo died in a machine made to save him. Mumbo died in front of grian. Mumbo died and everybody just watched. Hell, Jimmy celebrated. He laughed. Because now there was no denying the curse was broken.

Skizz will mourn all of the next session. Grian will not. He will be consumed by the Dark rage within him. Jimmy should watch his back…

Kinda like Mumbo should have watched his back for that minecart, Amiright?

[yanderes-galore]

One character that i find really interesting in Resident Evil is Mia Winters, and it's not even when she was infected by mold. For starters, Mia isn't exactly a victim (not as much as the others in the game). She was a bioterrorist that worked for The Connections and she knew what Eveline was and what she could do. Mia may not have designed Eveline, but she helped transport her to her destination, which led to the events of the game. So, Mia is responsible for the deaths of all the ship's crew, the Bakers, all the family victim's and Ethan himself, but she still got away with it in the end. So, could you write a general concept for Mia? You can add the infected version, but i think she has more dept in her normal form.

I'll try, sure. It won't be that long but I will say what I think of her.

Yandere! Mia Winters Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Picture taking, Human experimentation, Delusional behavior, Dubious companionship/relationship.

I will agree that is not the best person.

She lied so much during the story.

While she did care for Ethan, she lied to him many times.

She lied about what she was doing, she lied to lure him, she even lied about him not being a mold creature.

That's barely even covering the fact she was transporting Eveline.

Eveline was a developed bioweapon meant to sneak behind enemy lines and was meant to be transported to testing grounds.

Mia choosing to do such a job, even if the pay was good or she was doing the right thing, is a dark thing to do morally.

Despite all of that, I would still say she's a subtle yandere if I had to make her yandere.

She's primarily just manipulative, even before the mold.

I could also say she's delusional in the way she's thinking.

She may think she's doing the right thing when it comes to lying to you.

She was married to Ethan prior to RE7 (iirc), and still lied to him.

You think she's going to tell her obsession the truth?

She knows the truth would drive them away from her, then she can't have them anymore.

She'd hide her obsessive tendencies... and if they were some sort of experiment, she'd hide that too

Mia would fabricate your entire life if it meant you stayed by her side as your yandere.

Does she feel guilt? Maybe a little.

However, Her own feelings often trump any regret she feels.

I feel Mia would hate being alone more than anything.

She'd want you to be by her side and for you two to care for one another.

Even if it means your whole relationship has been based on lies.

She'd lie to you as a friend and lie to you as a lover.

She'd be delusional, uncaring if she's leading you into a web of lies.

In terms of what she'd actually do other than fabricate your life...

She'd socially isolate you in fear of others knowing the truth and saying something.

She has a photo album of pictures she took when you didn't know.

She has a journal and audio recordings she uses as ways to vent her obsession.

She definitely isn't one to outright kill unless it has something to do with the mold.

That's fine, not all yanderes involve murder, that's something I've come to learn when writing.

Sometimes they just need to do something overly toxic or worse.

I'd say her lying and manipulating is its own form of scary.

Mostly because, if you ever learned of her lies, the trust issues you get afterwards is enough to make you distrust anyone.

How would you know if anything is true after that?

Hiding her obsessive behavior is bad enough, honestly.

But if she was hiding the fact you were an experiment or infected with something?

Just so she could keep you as hers?

It may not seem that bad compared to other yanderes...

But it will still mess you up psychologically when she cages you in her home, promising all she does is for the best.

[thekatebridgerton]

Today on another episode of stories I'm too sleep deprived to write: past life reincarnation au. But it's just a universe where the Bridgertons fall in love but they never quite get their happy endings

Daphne saw a betrayed Simon chose to willingly get shot by Anthony and leave England in shame rather than marry her.

Anthony married Edwina and lived to know Kate died of a horseback riding accident shortly after the wedding

Benedict was rejected by Sophie, who chose to take the next ship to America instead of accepting his offer to be his mistress

Colin discovering her secret scared Penelope enough she vanished from his life without a trace.

Francesca never saw Michael again after he confessed he loved her.

And Eloise never took a chance on Sir Phillip, once she found out that he had children, she went back home with her brothers and tried to live her spinster life. Reason for which, he simply married another lady soon after his mourning period was over.

Hyacinth fell in love with Gareth, who chose to marry the next heiress he met rather than indulge her in her adventures

And Gregory was too slow and too late to Lucy's wedding. Knowing he was most likely the father of her and Haselby's only child

So, what happens when all your life you live to regret one mistake that cost you the love of your life. Wondering if you could have done anything different, then maybe you could have been happy.

And then a freak accident happens in Aubrey Hall and all the Bridgertons wake up on the morning of Daphne's debut.

Gregory and Hyacinth, rightfully horrified at having to go trough puberty again. Just want to see where young Gareth and Lucy are holed up and bring them to London, so at least growing up for a second time will be less terrible.

While Anthony is plotting exactly how to begin courting Kate Sharma despite knowing his disastrous marriage to Edwina left him jaded and broken in the romance department. And that he never got over Kate's death

Daphne has to tread the thin line between flirting with Simon and spooking him into running from her. Without resorting to a fake engagement

Benedict has the dubious mission of catching Sophie without tarnishing her reputation knowing she's wily enough to slip away from his grasp with whatever method he chooses. Even if he offered marriage, he would still need to take her out of Araminta's grasp and earn her trust. And his lady in silver is stubborn enough to resist him

Colin has to get close to Penelope without letting her find out he knows her secret while at the same time officially courting her like a gentleman and protecting her from the unsavory parts of her work. At the same time that he tries to infiltrate the steadily growing network of connections she built as LW that allowed her to disappear from his life in his first lifetime

Eloise has to live with the knowledge that she is now inlove with a very married man and worry about the moral implications of visiting Marina and befriending Phillip so soon after their marriage. After all, if Eloise intervenes Marina could live, but she'd lose Phillip again

And Francesca has to figure out quick, how to choose between her two great loves. Michael and John. Both of whom she never got over. Before it's time for her debut in society

If one mistake could cost you the love of your life, what mistakes exactly would you be willing to make? Well, the Bridgertons sure are going to find out

[zingingdesertrose23]

Sweet Dee’s Complete Backstory (1976-2005)

[cw: suicidal ideation, emotional abuse, bullying, body shaming etc..]

Deandra "Dee" Reynolds was born the older twin to Barbara (born Landgraf) and Frank Reynolds in 1976, the latter of which raised illegitimate children not knowing that their biological father was Bruce Mathis, a man his wife was having an affair with. Barbara was 28 years old at the time, and Frank was 33. Frank has claimed that Dennis and Dee would have had a brother, Donnie, had they not eaten him in the womb.

Dee was raised not by her emotionally distant mother, Barbara, or her father, Frank, but rather a "series of Mexican women" who served as nannies. Barbara, who chose Frank under the belief that he was wealthier than her former lover Bruce Mathis, consistently favored Dennis over Dee. Thanks to Frank’s real estate business and shady dealings, the twins had a financially stable childhood.

The neglect from her parents was supplemented by the dubious influence of her maternal grandfather Pop Pop (Heinrich Landgraf), a former SS officer, whose presence in her life introduced her to extreme ideologies and further complicated her moral landscape. Based on his uniform, he was a low ranking gestapo officer. He may have even been an acquaintance of Adolf Hitler. Barbara was certainly raised with a Nazi belief system, a tradition he would go on to continue with his grandchildren Dennis and Deandra. His home was filled with Nazi memorabilia including the German Shepherd painted by Hitler.

In 1981 when the twins were five, Pop Pop attempted to indoctrinate his grandchildren through a Neo-Nazi summer camp. All of this was so normalized within the family that the twins didn’t realize there was anything wrong or off with these things until their 20s.

Dee and Dennis went to Waldron Elementary school. They grew up in the Reynolds house that would later become the “Party Mansion”.

Frank was often away conducting business and Barbara was an absent mother addicted to amphetamines. Despite this, at some points they take trips to the Jersey Shore and the twins build positive memories there together.

Frank and Barbara were incredibly neglectful and verbally abusive to Dee, the “black sheep” of the family. Among other things, Barbara used to always say “Worst is first” because Dee was born first.

Raised primarily by a series of caretakers rather than their own parents, the twins were subjected to cruel psychological games like the Christmas "fake out," where Frank would show off the gifts the children had wanted most for himself, while Dee and Dennis received empty boxes. Frank would make home movies of Dee and her brother opening the empty boxes, laughing at their disappointment.

Such experiences contributed to her complex relationship with reality, where she often downplays or rationalizes the abnormal behaviors witnessed in her family, including those of her brother Dennis. For instance, she dismisses Dennis's violent act of snapping a crow's neck, revealing her struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy against her better judgment. Later in life Dee still defends and downplays this behavior saying,

“Well, he kind of... snapped the neck, uh, off a crow one time a little bit. But that... but that's not not normal right, you know? (laughs) I mean, it was just like boys being boys. Yeah. That...Look, we had a totally normal childhood, and...Look, Dennis wouldn't hurt a fly. No way.”

To which Frank would say : “Whatever Deandra says is BS. She's probably just covering for him because she's afraid he's gonna snap her neck like that crow.”

While she does tend to minimize what she saw, she began having recurring nightmares about it that would haunt her for life. “I still have nightmares about it…And I'm old.”

Her tendency to put Dennis on a pedestal despite his glaring flaws also highlights her conflicted feelings of loyalty, envy, and shared identity as twins. Dee has always put Dennis on a pedestal, so when he does things that are clearly wrong she has to find ways to compartmentalize and rationalize it to herself. You can also see that Dee tells herself that her childhood was normal, despite all of the traumatic experiences.

Their extended family consisted of at least Pop-Pop, Uncle Max and Aunt Donna (Barbara’s sister) as well as their cousin of similar age Gail “the snail” who they found annoying, so they would frequently bully and throw salt at her.

Dennis:“No one likes salting the snail but she gives you no choice.”

Dee: “She doesn't leave you with any options.”

Barbara was a perfectionist about appearances, which not only made her extremely insecure about her own looks and aging but also incredibly cruel towards Deandra. She constantly told Dee that she “wasn’t pretty enough” for whatever she was trying to accomplish. She would also fat shame her when she was clearly not fat at all. (Also, Barbara later on dies from a botched neck lift after Frank makes one remark about her “turkey neck” after their divorce.) Barbara held herself and her children to impossible beauty standards, and Frank didn’t exactly help; he actually perpetuated it, going so far as to call Dee “a dog” and never calling her pretty. Dee grows to hate and resent her mother, and neither twin attended her funeral later on.

Dee was a successful child beauty pageant winner, winning several shows she entered on her own despite both parents’ constant criticism of her looks and lack of support. (Later in life when she performs for Frank’s Little Beauties Pageant, during her original song “Moms Stink” she throws a photo of Barbara in the trash onstage).

Dennis and Dee were also raised Catholic, frequently attending church and confessing their sins.

By the time she reached middle school in the late 1980s, she had been diagnosed with scoliosis and made to wear a back brace, which became the source of a lot of bullying down the road and earning her the nickname “Aluminum Monster”. Dennis began to fit in with the “cool kids” more than Dee was.

Later on Charlie reads her middle school diary entries from her childhood bedroom in the Reynolds House / Party Mansion and discovers the following snippets from this period..

“Dear Diary, the dance was a total disaster. I cried myself to sleep again last night. Mom forced me to wear the back brace. And all the school chanted "aluminum monster!”

and

"I'm totally gonna tell Eric how much I like him tonight. Even though Danielle was like all over him today in school. Mother said, "Don't bother. He wants a pretty girl instead. "'

This period marked a turning point for her depression and possibly the beginning of her s**** ideation.

In the early 1990s, the gang entered high school. Dee attended the Academy of Notre Dame an all-girls academy that was affiliated with St. Joseph's Preparatory School, which Dennis Mac and Charlie went to. By 1993 Frank was gone in Vietnam opening a sweatshop. Dee had already established herself as unpopular due to her back brace and horrible self esteem. However, she continued to try to fit in and become a “cool kid”. Having no friends, she hangs out with Ingrid “Fatty Magoo” Nelson, another girl in her class that is frequently bullied.

Other classmates of hers included the Waitress, Maureen Ponderosa, Stacy Corvelli, and Nikki Potnick.

She attended physical therapy twice a week with Matthew Mara, a boy from St. Joseph’s with a huge crush on Dee and whom the gang would tease. Dee found belonging and power in taunting him, making him do all of her math homework as well as embarrassing things (like making him eat horse poop before getting to kiss her then refusing because ‘his breath smelled like shit’) much to Dennis and his friends’ amusement. She would also make fun of Brad Fisher for his acne along with the other students. The gang would also drink and party underage frequently.

During this time Dee found an escape in drama class with Dr. Larry Meyers. He made her feel a sense of self worth when she was performing, as he encouraged her talents and cast her in roles.

Around 1994, the twins graduate high school. Around this time Dee decided to stop going to her church, which may or may not be linked to her newfound passion for the pro-choice movement. She got into University of Pennsylvania and chose Psychology as her major, and was assigned a dorm with a female roommate. Somehow Dee’s insecurity and possibly internalized misogyny created a strange dynamic between them of jealousy, rivalry, and obsession.

By 1997 her back brace was removed. Dee enters into a secret sexual relationship with her professor Dr. Gainer. Her roommate issues escalate as Dee finds her “annoying” and accuses her of copying her and wearing her clothes, which Dennis claims happened the other way around. The conflict came to a head when, as she puts it, she burned her roommate “Down to the box springs whilst she was sleeping” after she “crossed” her.

Dee is sentenced to be institutionalized, and presumably get no support from her parents during this phase. Not only does Barbara see her as even more of a disappointment, Frank probably wouldn’t set foot in another mental hospital even if he wanted to. The family becomes more estranged, and while the twins remain in each others lives, they distance themselves from their parents. [edit: this would actually be mainly after the roller rink era, as the twins were still very involved in with their parents’ expectations at this point]

By 1998 Dee was released with medication and a treatment plan, which probably caused her personality to seem more “sweet” than usual. Mac and Charlie were working at the roller rink where she also had a head injury around this time that went untreated.

At some point Dennis and Dee get involved with gay culture to the point of having an almost encyclopedic knowledge of gay slang. The gang also creates the board game “Chardee Macdennis”, during which in one game the boys emotionally abused Dee for two minutes straight, which led her into a deep depression and she attempted to commit s*** with pills. The guys purchase Paddy’s Pub and hire Dee as their bartender to help her get back on her feet. She manages to get a one bedroom apartment and a cat, as well as taking up acting classes again where she meets her friend Artemis. and that brings us to episode one!

[weirdfreakshow]

I'm still thinking about the gempearl rape stuff. so!

what about fox!gem with her own cute knotted cock, who gets so horribly turned on during breeding season that she's been locked away in her boat all day humping at her pillows, absolutely feral, needy, a complete mess. and pearl, being her kind and caring friend, who comes to check on her. who gets jumped as soon as gem hears her voice, and wastes no time in pushing pearl down, in ripping her post uniform. in fucking Pearl, teeth clamped on her shoulder. maybe even drawing a little blood she's biting her so hard, fucking her with wreckless abandon. and pearl doesn't want to hurt gem, begs her to stop, but gem is too far gone for it to matter. just driving herself into pearl over and over again, growling while she slams her knot home, pumping pearl full of cum like pearls just her breeding bitch and can only sit there under her and sob as she's filled up.

maybe she even cums from getting knotted, and has to deal with the humiliation of it. was it really rape if she came from it? could she ever tell anyone about it? would anyone believe her? gem was feral, out of her mind. can gem really be blamed? really, pearl should have known better than to come to her base when she did, it's pearls fault

-🎸🌻

I LOVE THISSS literally living rent free in my head. Uggh. I keep thinking about Gem biting Pearl so hard it pierces skin, tightening her jaw even more as she's getting close to cumming,,, and the aftermath of it, her dislodging her teeth from her shoulder, maybe licking somewhat "apologetically" as she pants, tired and content with getting to knot and breed Pearl exactly like she needed to do ... Absolutely blissful, while Pearl lies there, also tired, cunt full and eyes watery. Maybe sniffling quietly

It's really interesting to think it from the perspective of instincts, would other (morally dubious) hybrids defend Gem? Would people understand that theyre difficult to control? Poor little gem, must feel so bad about raping her friend ! What an unfortunate circumstance !

[whomstsnek]

Posting another of my many, many DND characters. Here's Kaiser!!

Originally, Kaiser was from a modern setting zombie apocalypse campaign a friend of mine ran :3 they wanted to try out preplanned classes, and I ended up with doctor (life domain cleric). In his original iteration, he was an anxious but empathetic doctor; he originally went into medicine to help others and run from his family of dubious morals.

I haven't played him in this iteration yet, but here I imagine him as a chronurgy wizard. He's a changeling originally born into an inner city crime family and couldn't stand seeing people suffer at the hands of his family and their employees. In his late teens/early 20s he assumed a new identity and ran, moving from town to town every few months and changing his disguise every few years. He's incredibly paranoid about being followed or found out.

In one town he took up a quick job to earn a little coin before his next move, and ended up helping an older man clean out and organize his home. While cleaning the man's study he found countless tomes, scrolls, and spellbooks, and seeing Kaiser's interest the man offered to teach him what he knew. He hesitantly accepted, unable to help his curiosity.

After many more years than he had planned, learning magic under the tutelage of the old wizard, the man woke him in the dead of night, shoved his personal spellbook into Kaiser's hands, pushed him out the door with the sole instruction to save himself. Ever dutiful, he did as he was told, the last thing he saw being the wizard's humble home burning in the distance.

Another few years later he's taken on his most recent disguise, that of a human man with fair skin and dark hair, and he is still struggling to read his mentor's old tome. He yearns to someday unlock the tome's secrets, and understand the mystery of that night and why the book was so important to save.

[wordsandrobots]

'Real' robot? No thanks

I shan't be wasting time hang-wringing over the idea of a Gundam show from the point of view of the setting's antagonists. This is a well-worn and perfectly legitimate approach, and in any case, Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) goes out of its way to emphasise the humanity of the Principality of Zeon's soldiers. There are scouts who bend their orders to aid to civilians, wannabe special-forces who take the time to gawk at the teen prodigy who thwarted their attempt to blow up the Gundam, pilots who jump ship rather than go down with their mobile suits, and injured grunts who cling to family pictures while bleeding out in the desert. Even the actual *villains* of Gundam 79 – the Zabi family and their hangers-on – are generally presented as functioning people with loves and motivations beyond conquest. Only Gihren is utterly without morals. You know, the guy who took being compared to Hitler as a compliment? Garma, Degwin, Dozle, and even Kycilia all have moments of humanity, in spite of their reprehensible actions.

So yes, of course there are people fighting for Zeon because it's their job, because they believe the promise of spacenoid independence, because they buy into newtype theory, or simply because circumstances force them to. That's the kind of story Gundam is: the tragedy of people enduring a war driven by forces above their heads and beyond their control, who are just trying to make it home alive. If you don't get that, or that the Federation is squarely in the position of 'lesser evil but still a callous nation state doing dubious things to secure victory' from episode one, I don't know what to tell you. You've missed the point. I'm sorry, you just have.

There is nothing wrong with the premise 'wouldn't fighting against the Gundam be like living in a horror movie?' Indeed, I will go further: that is a good premise for a story.

But Netflix's Mobile Suit Gundam: Requiem for Vengeance is not a good story. It is, at best, a serviceable one, trotting from A to B with enough narrative cohesion and character beats to string the set-pieces together. By and large it manages an inoffensive momentum, unfolding a predictable sequence of events with reasonable competency. If I was not hugely entertained, I was not especially put off, either. They even remembered to turn on the contrast for the nighttime battles.

The biggest innovation displayed here is that this production was rendered in Unreal Engine as full CGI, eschewing Gundam's conventional animation style. In my view, that's also the key to its biggest problems. Let's take a quick spoiler break and I'll try to unpack what I mean.

I guess go watch the show before proceeding?

OK, so, there was a point in the middle of Requiem for Vengeance when I found myself questioning the physics of beam sabers. I'd never thought before about why what is essentially a burning stream of energy can be blocked by a bit of metal with a super-heated edge, or indeed by another such stream, because within the animation style usually used to depict such things, they are clearly physical in their interaction with the world. As solid as lightsabers and therefore as capable of acting like real swords.

But Requiem makes the decision to depict the Gundam's saber as, essentially, the jet from a blowtorch. Because that's what this *is*, isn't it? A narrow fountain of plasma? So it looks like fire, you can see the Zaku's heat-hawk through the Gundam's blade, and suddenly I'm wondering – how does that work? Why does the axe stop it instead of passing through? How does this obviously non-physical blade react as if it were a physical object?

There are any number of technobabble reasons you might give for how this works. Forcefields! It's probably forcefields. But what struck me was the beat of 'huh' I experienced, where I asked something I'd never previously *needed* to, even though it always existed as a legitimate question of the sci-fi mumbo-jumbo being deployed, and how that was a direct result of stylistic choices made when the Gundam was reinterpreted through the lens of CGI 'realism'.

Ah, yes. Realism. That elusive quality chased by film-makers and game-developers the world over. Or, specifically chased by a lot of big, mainstream studios who've decided it is vitally important the supernatural and the superscientific be placed within what is recognisably the real world.

In terms of such codifying modern works as 2008's Iron Man, this is primarily about papering over the stitching between what is filmed using actors and what is painted in later. In theory, something rendered entirely by computer does not have to worry about this. However, as many a 'triple-A' computer game has proven, the aspiration towards photographic quality remain. Characters and objects are honed so as to mimic the appearance and texture of real people and objects, with greater verisimilitude to life being a near-universally unquestioned goal.

I won't argue this doesn't have merit as a technical exercise. The results can be impressive. What I will say is: realism is worthless if it removes interest, and useless if it sacrifices coherence. The beam saber example is an instance of what I mean by the latter. Within Gundam 79, we apprehend immediately that the saber and the heat-hawk are of a kind, possessing an energised glow that is nevertheless opaque and physical. Within Requiem's portrayal, however, they no longer adhere to a visual language in which their interaction make sense. You cannot block an axe with a blowtorch flame. A minor illustration, yes, but it captures the tension created by transposing such elements into a more 'realistic' style.

Another may be found in the treatment of Zeon's various military vehicles. These are a bizarre selection of sci-fi objet d'art, from the aerodynamically questionable Dopp fighter jets to Magella tanks that can launch their turrets into open flight. They are strikingly weird designs that make little sense yet function perfectly inside their context. Where another, earlier anime would have had them belong to an alien species, Gundam is the show that pioneered 'what if the bad guys were human too' for the mecha genre, so they merely represent a design logic alien to the Earth Federation, which favours bold, blocky shapes more closely based on extant military hardware.

In Requiem, the Zeonic weirdness is deliberately muted. The Dopps are streamlined, literally flattened into a more traditional jet fighter profile. One Magella does attempt to launch its turret only to be blown apart before it can rise more than a couple of feet. Otherwise, they're just treated as ordinary tanks. And it's easy to see what the artists were doing here: "let's take these weird 70s designs and make them look like real tanks/jets." The result, unfortunately, is a dilution of the clear distinction between Zeon and Federation tech.

If you've watching the original Gundam and its sequels, you'll know how easy it is to tell at a glance which side something belongs to. Looking at them in stills, it is still reasonably clear these are meant to be Zeon vehicles. But in motion, it often took me a good few seconds to be sure I wasn't seeing their Federation equivalents. Visual interest doesn't exist purely for its own sake, after all; it serves to clarify the action. Plus, it seems to me that trying to downplay the wilder aspects of these designs actually draws attention towards those aspects. The Zeonic alienness has its own explanatory power; reducing it raises more questions, not fewer.

Lest you think me some terrible killjoy who doesn't like fun, I'm actually incredibly sympathetic to 'realistic' overhauls of classic designs. Have you seen what I spent years doing for the Daleks? Aesthetic overhauls aren't something I object to, nor do I think 'realism' as practised by the MCU and triple-A game developers is intrinsically a waste of time. What I am trying to demonstrate is Requiem's relation to its source material. It posits a story taking place exactly contemporaneously with episode 25 of Gundam 79, portraying the Battle of Odessa, the great Federation push-back that ejects Zeon forces from Earth. This is what was happening 'just off screen', depicted in a style actively at odds with that of the original

But not entirely at odds with it. Which brings us to another problem: an unwillingness to commit fully to the new style.

The big twist in Requiem episode 4 is that after being chased down by the Gundam and just barely managing to drive it off, Captain Iria Solari of the Red Wolf mobile suit squadron is recruited to go capture an example of the Federation's new mass-produced GM 'suit, so Zeon can identify its weaknesses. The hunted get to become the hunter, infiltrating a Federation base and attempting to hijack a couple of GMs, only for the Gundam to scupper things. All well and good. Not a bad swerve. Enables some useful developments.

Except this plan is delivered into the plot by a Zeon major general who appears to have stepped in from a different production entirely. Specifically, from Mobile Suit Gundam: The 08th MS Team, because this is none other than Major General Yuri Kellerne, he of the Wolverine haircut and unfortunate disagreements with certain scientific officers (that is, it is unfortunate he should have disagreed with a man possessing so few qualms about massacring his own side).

It is truly surreal to have a character who looks like he actually belongs in a Gundam show enter the scene. I was quite impressed prior to this with the depiction of another character, Major Ronet, who captures the essence of a villain-of-the-week Zeon officer using Requiem's style. He looks entirely of a piece with the rest, while still being recognisably a certain type of character.

Kellerne though? For fuck's sake, he's got a full-blown anime bouffant. Juxtaposed with Solari's achingly realistic design, it's just – bad. This is bad. It's a stylistic clash that makes it impossible to take these scenes seriously. Not because either style is problematic on its own, but because they cannot work together.

It's worth pausing to consider Kellerne's native entry in the franchise, because 08th MS represents an older trend of revisiting the original setting. Starting with Mobile Suit Gundam 0080: War in the Pocket, this saw the release of OVAs with a superior quality of animation and a more ground-level take on events of the Zeon/Federation war. In many respects, Requiem is positioned as the successor to these series, as Kellerne's cameo makes overt.

The thing is, War in the Pocket, Mobile Suit Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory and 08th MS are all animes. Yes, they render the action with greater fidelity than Gundam 79. But they don't restyle it the way Requiem attempts to. The Dopp fighter is a great example of this. Compare the 08th MS version to the original and you will see that it merely adds extra layers of detail. It doesn't make it make more sense. Likewise for the character models. They look better than Gundam 79, by certain metrics. They still follow conventional anime aesthetics. You can't drop a design from this line of shows straight into a 'realistic' depiction and expect that to work.

Why does any of this matter? None of these issues exceed the threshold of nit-picking. OK, they're mildly distracting, but is there really a huge problem here?

Well, first, there is a philosophical underpinning to the drive for 'realism' we ought to grapple with, namely the idea only live-action and live-action-alike 'count'. I confess to having little time for this line of thought: the stylistic 'realism' discussed up to now matters far less than emotional or experiential realism. That is to say, whether something presents itself using stick-figures or a hyper-photographic style is not as important as whether it can convey the stakes, pathos, and other meat of a story. Art presents a plethora of options for communicating a message. Deciding one is intrinsically more valuable than the rest is a woefully narrow view of creativity. Traditional, non-realistic animation can be as emotionally arresting as any live performance. Why, therefore, should it be necessary to adapt it into a life-like style?

Second, there is the incomplete commitment to 'realism' that plagues Requiem and, I would argue, the entire concept of approaching works such as Gundam in this manner. Sure, stylistic 'realism' isn't about being strictly 'realistic'. It's about achieving a specific texture to the unreality that is functionally indistinguishable from that of the real elements. Yet doesn't the inclusion of a 17.5m-tall humanoid robot suits automatically grant you a get-out-of-realism-free card? If you have something that wild in play, why go to the effort of making it look like a real-world object? And if you're going to arbitrarily throw out the pretence for the sake of gratuitous continuity, what's the point of trying to begin with?

This circles close to what Requiem is, materially. If I use the phrase 'official fan-fiction', I hope you'll understand that's not necessarily derogatory. What I mean is something primarily homaging and reflecting a pre-existing work, rather than more straightforwardly building off it. 'Fan-fic' because it is bounded by what is already there; 'official' because it has the backing of corporate ownership and thus is positioned as more than merely people playing with the toys they enjoy. It's a category of derivative works into which I'd put previous projects such as Gundam Unicorn's animated adaptation – ring-fenced by an established canon, whatever their individual merits.

General Kellerne's stylistically disruptive presence is one example of the short-comings of such an approach. His design looks that way out of deference to 08th MS Team, whether or not it fits next to the other visuals (a side-effect of trying to cram him into Requiem's style is that he appears off-model anyway!).

Another is the plot. We might grant that doing Gundam-by-the-numbers is a self-contained introduction to the series' themes for a novice, but there isn't anything here those of us who've watched the anime(s) haven't seen a dozen times over. Even Solari's pocket-watch feels borrowed from 08th MS.

Now, credit where it's due: Requiem does not downplay the newtype angle. The psychic powers built up to over the course of Gundam 79 and made central to its sequels are usually the first thing ejected when the franchise tries to be more 'serious' and 'gritty'. It was a pleasant surprise to see them embraced. Solari is explicitly a newtype, with all the corresponding traits (supernaturally good pilot, able to sense threats, experiences predictive flashes etc). This is neatly used to establish some of the philosophy behind Zeon's cause, since most of our characters are already aware of newtype theory (humans moving to space tap into skills not previously needed) by dint of being on the side that uses this as justification for invading the Earth.

As in the source material, newtypes serve as a metaphor for the potential of each new generation. Solari was a talented violinist before the war, able to play near-impossible melodies, and this ability has been conscripted in much the same way OG protagonist Amuro Ray's mechanical genius was turned to murder. Equally, the central tragedy in Requiem resolves into newtype-on-newtype violence, as the pilot of the Gundam relentlessly hunting the Zeon soldiers is revealed to be a frightened teenager, paralleling both Solari's son, to whom she is fighting to return, and Solari herself, as someone struggling for their life in a war-zone.

I watching this straight after binging the original Gundam series (I'd previously seen the more refined compilation movies) and was struck there by how brief Amuro's interaction with fellow newtype Lalah Sune is prior to inadvertently killing her in battle. Then I remembered that's the point. These are two people sharing an identical potential for transforming the world, made opponents by circumstance, who understand one another immediately and intimately in the exact instant it is too late to matter. Amuro's cry that he has done something awful he cannot take back is not overlooking the other deaths he's responsible for; rather it is admitting the unique horror of lost possibility.

Following an encounter on the Federation base, Solari recognises the boy pursuing her is equally scared and out of his depth and thus attempts to talk him down. She even succeeds, reaching substitute!Amuro (hey look another traumatised child soldier who executes wild violence in a berserker-like fashion using a hyper-advanced military prototype; what are the odds?) and evoking his sympathy with her status as a mother (characterisation I'd be more annoyed by if Solari wasn't presented functionally identical to the trope of a father desiring to return to his family).

Then, immediately after saving Solari from being crushed by falling spaceship debris, substitute!Amuro is fatally stabbed in the back by another Zeon soldier.

Here we reach the crux of my dislike for Requiem. It has already muddied the clean Federation/Zeon divide and Gundam's internal physics in service of its chosen style, then compromised that style anyway in the name of slavishness to canonicity. Now, during what is position as the emotional climax, it openly rejects the visual language of newtypes.

Solari's powers are portrayed using vocally-stated unease and emotional connection to other individuals (as is standard), and a pair of dream sequences – one prophetic with respect to the Gundam pilot, another tying into newtypes' ability to draw in the souls of those who die around them. Performing at a darkened opera house, Solari's red dress slowly washes outwards, becoming a bloody wave as the audience is revealed to consist of the dead Zeon soldiers she failed to save. It's an arresting visual, as is the fiery descent into her own pocket watch (a souvenir from her dead husband, who was also conscripted into the war) that marks the earlier dream. We also see a brief shot of the Gundam staring straight back at her as she senses its presence on a distant battlefield. These are all effectively done and I genuinely enjoyed them.

Crucially, however, Requiem does not deploy the kind of over-layering that Gundam 79, Zeta Gundam, ZZ Gundam and the other follow-ups use to show the deep connections developed by newtypes. In the animes, in addition to visions and flashes of awareness, we have full-on mind-to-mind communication where people converse across voids of colour and light. Newtypes appear in ghostly form, too, interacting with the living during and after their deaths. There are also the obligatory glowing auras, cuing the viewer into supernatural happenings.

Requiem's 'realistic' style seemingly does not permit such things to occur in the waking world. That is to say, there is no reason you couldn't depict the standard newtype visuals in CGI, but this show opts not to. If I were to hazard a guess, given the restriction of overt psychedelia to dream sequences and what they did to the Zenoic designs, I would say the aritsts thought it would look silly.

The problem is, how do you then portray newtype connections? In the scene where Solari convinces substitute!Amuro to stop, we get a couple of cutaways to the kid in his cockpit, superposing with his Gundam's movements. That is a great decision, since the point of the newtype visuals is the characters looking past the armour and understanding the person within (not always a good thing, since antagonism can exist despite the link, but the central conceit is always to grasp the essence of somebody else). In these brief moments, we see, as Solari does, the human being, not the mechanical monster.

But the boy's subsequent death is just… the Gundam gets stabbed and keels over, and Solari is grief-stricken. That's it. No manifested ghost, psychic trauma conveyed by voice lines alone, a total absence in this crucial, heart-rending instant of substitute!Amuro's humanity. Just the destruction of property. The death of the monster, not the scared child.

If there had been one additional cutaway to the boy in the cockpit, I think this could have worked. A single shot of him looking at Solari in the second before being stabbed in the back. Something, anything, to imply the connection crucial to this scene. I am honestly baffled as to why it's not there. I feel I'm looking at a picture where a couple of critical numbers weren't coloured in.

To be clear, I don't personally care for the newtype concept as executed in the 'Universal Century' Gundam shows. I'm not annoyed by this because I'm wedded to the idea or the visual conceits. I'm annoyed by the incompetence of failing to land an obvious, even required emotional beat. The finale of Requiem for Vengeance is built around Solari confronting substitute!Amuro. She risks her chance to join the Zeon retreat from Earth – and thus of reuniting with her son – to help take down Federation forces endangering the departing space capsules. She then compounds this by attempting to convince the Gundam pilot to let everyone go, and ultimately abandons any possibility of returning home out of grief over his death. This is a life-changing encounter for her, as is normal for newtypes pushed into fighting each other.

In my opinion, the show does not sell that anywhere near as well as it could have. Further, it betrays the very concept of the newtype connection by leaving substitute!Amuro to be represented by his Gundam rather than his actual self in his final moments. There are cases where other newtypes meet such abrupt ends. Quess' death in Char's Counterattack springs immediately to mind. But that is a moment of a profound lack of communication, which is not what's happening here.

Animes such as the original Gundam shows can move seamlessly between high technology and visual metaphors for empathy without underselling either one. That they are not attempting to look 'real' provides the advantage of absolute coherence. Beam sabers, flying tanks, psychic powers – there are no joins to airbrush away. Everything is unreal, so everything fits together. A switch in medium and style creates the challenge of reinterpreting those disparate elements so they remain coherent. Ultimately, while Requiem for Vengeance has a good try at pulling everything across, it fails, not just at creating 'realism', but at capturing the conceptual depth of what it is assaying.

Being official fan-fic of the Battle of Odessa – being, essentially, 'the Gundam story' in miniature – invites unfavourable comparison with the original work. Unshackled from that, I suspect it could have done more to establish its own visuals, remove incongruities and find better means of conveying its emotional core. As it stands, I have to wonder if there's any sound argument for live-action-alike Gundam. Even the dream sequences don't provide something unique to this style. You could do the same in traditional animation and trivially push it further. So what, precisely, is gained by telling this story this way?

That's the question Requiem for Vengeance has left me pondering. And hey, if you want to answer with 'but it looks cool', fair enough. I'm writing way too much about my personal gripes with a perfectly passable piece of gratuitous mecha porn, simply because I found a more interesting complaint to make than “why the fuck didn't they hire somebody who knew how do facial animations?”

As for Captain Solari, she closing-monologues herself to Africa to join a Zeon remnant group and fight to give children a future without war. Never quite been sure how mecha pilots in these things envision that working, if I'm honest. Oh, and, uh, I guess nobody tell her that if she survives the next seventeen years, there's a decent chance she's going on a suicide run against the Federation spearheaded by a traumatised teenager strapped into a murder machine.

That might put a slight damper on what Netflix's music captions assure me is a heroic ending.

[A note to check you read all the way to the end: obviously the screenshot from Cucuruz Doan's Island shows CGI mobile suit models. But that's CGI aping traditional anime, rather than an attempt at realism. This is why I've been careful to talk about style, not medium.]

[anthropologyruinseverything]

New fic series! WWE Mafia AU

Welcome to what is essentially my dark romance, junk food series. I want to practice writing in the genre so here we go! Plz see CW warnings. There are 3 fulls stories and a 1 shot planned, I will be writing stories and one-shots as part of this universe as time goes on. As of right now Jey, Damian, Roman and Tama are in the works but I’d like to expound so hit me with recs!

(They may take time to write)

Now on with it.

18+ only from here plz - minors dni

Sea & Moon

Jey Uso x IndigenousFMC

Summary: Nokomis “Kiki” Levy was a normal twenty year old college student whose biggest concerns were passing chemistry and what graduate programs would want to see on an application.

Joshua “Jey” Fatu is thirty-one and has recently been appointed heir apparent of his father’s branch of their families shadowy enterprise and needs to prove himself up to the task.

Their worlds collide when Kiki’s father, a detective with SFPD, gets too close to Jey’s family business. While they start as enemies there is an undeniable burn between them. Will a much larger threat be their end or give them a chance to thrive together?

🚨It’ll be a dark journey for the Levy girls, please heed content warnings that include mild n0n-con between main characters, dubious consent, violence, mentions of difficult topics such as substance abuse, mental health issues and more. There will be various k!nks such as prim@l play, masks, captiv!ty, 🔪 play, ch0king, and more. The boys are morally grey to black but love and obsess over their ladies.

There is an HEA for everyone! I probably won’t post more than the prologues and one shots here on Tumblr and leave the really dark stuff on AO3. I will post links though and just drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any further updates.

## Prologue

**Nokomis “Kiki” POV**

⭐️*character note, Kiki has vitiligo which affects her face over her right eye, her hands and other other areas.

It was just supposed to be another regular movie night at home with my sister and cousin, nothing unusual or life altering. The same sort of thing we did almost every Saturday night since we could remember. I didn’t think twice when my folks decided on a last minute date night while we three girls piled onto the couch for comedies and popcorn, waving them off as if I’d see them in a few hours.

I wished I’d hugged them tighter and longer. As if that would have somehow stopped what happened next.

Not long after my parents had left my dad’s retired K9 partner Atlas started going insane, running back and forth to the back door and barking. I assumed he was interested in a rabbit or some other critter like a possum in the backyard so I hushed him and sent him to his crate for acting so crazy. In the long run I’d probably saved his life but I had still wished for his protection with what came next.

We never heard the back door locks being picked or footsteps in the kitchen. Between the movie, our laughter and the occasional dog bark nothing else penetrated our space and like most college students on a Saturday night our minds weren’t on the dangers lurking in the shadows. We didn’t know anything was wrong until Kai went to the kitchen for drinks and her scream alerted Kiri and me to our unwelcome visitors.

I’d never felt so stupid and slow as I did when the large men in masks appeared in the doorway, one with a particularly vicious face mask, long black hair and icy gray eyes held a long knife to Kai’s throat, clutching her tightly to his front with his other arm. Every time I ever swore to myself and my parents I would fight back went out the window when I realized it might actually cost my cousin her life. Instead I reached for Kiri’s hand as we stood frozen to the spot. Her light brown eyes were blown wide in fear and her normally tan face had gone ashen.

Everyone was quiet except for Atlas’s enraged barking.

The shortest man was still at least six feet tall and he wore a black mask with red spiral designs that covered his lower face. Withdrawing a gun from a shoulder holster he indicated the elderly german shepherd. “Shut it the fuck up.”

Instinctively Kieran and I both moved to stand between him and Atlas, her fingers digging into my hand tighter than ever before while her other came up in a placating gesture as I spoke. “Please don’t hurt him, he’s old and scared.” She turned to me with frightened eyes and indicated I should comfort him with a jerk of her chin. Dropping I tried to soothe him and at least got him to quiet down to a whimper.

The next thing I became aware of nearly made me lose control of my bladder. A harsh, cold metal gun barrel was pressed to the back of my head as Kiri’s hand was wrenched from mine.

“You girls gonna behave?”

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat and nodded, hating that every inch of me was paralyzed. What happened to being an officer’s daughter who could stand her ground? All I could think about was that knife pressed to Kai, that gun leveled at the back of my head or at Atlas. If I didn’t behave they could be hurt or I could be killed. I risked glancing up at Kieran who was so still and quiet, being held by the largest of the three. His purple and black mask was monstrous like the tattoos on his exposed arms.

“Stand up slowly. Where’re your parents?” Out of habit when someone stared at me intensely I let my hair fall forward over my face even as I did what he said. His dark brown eyes looked black in the dim light of the living and the comedy kept playing in the background offering a ridiculous soundtrack to such a grave moment. Everything felt surreal in the flashing lights.

“N-not home.” My voice shook even as I tried to sound calm. “Our dad, he’s a cop, he’ll be back soon.” As if supplying that information would make him think twice.

The tall one chuckled, responding in a deep voice that fit his intimidating stature. “We know mija. He’s why we’re here.”

Kai’s whimper brought my attention back to her and the man holding her. He was far too interested in running his knife down her chest. “Hey! Stop it!”

Kai was two years younger than us and as such we’d always been protective of her. I realized what I’d done when those cold gray eyes flashed to me.

The man with black eyes didn’t hesitate, stepping in uncomfortably close to put the barrel under my chin. “Behave.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Survival mode engaged apparently. I realized we were truly fucked when he tugged his mask down to reveal an equally black beard but handsome face. “Leave a note D. We’re taking them and their old man can turn himself in when *we’re* ready.”

The last thing I remembered for a while was Kai crying out and a sharp prick in my neck before everything went black.

———

**Joshua “Jey” POV **

Catching the purple haired girl as she fell I moved to set her on the couch with the other two so they could be tied up. We’d come looking for Detective Levy and we were leaving with his twin daughters and their cousin. Not the worst all things considered but still not my plan and I didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

“You said he’d be here tonight D.”

Damian tugged his mask off with a shrug, accepting the roll of duct tape Roman had retrieved from his bag. He passed me one as well and we went to work taping the girls wrists, ankles and mouths.

“I’ll talk to J.D.” Unlike our family Damian ran a crew of people he’d collected with no ties aside from shared interests. It made them difficult to trust and easy to be angry with as far as I was concerned. I owed Damian my life, not them.

“Do that. Let’s get the fuck outta here.

Roman, you can mess with her later.” He was preoccupied with the pretty little woman he’d pounced on in the kitchen, running his hands up her thighs over her pajama pants. Instead of answering he just rolled those alarming eyes of his and threw her over his shoulder. I took a second to really assess the young woman in front of me. Her name was Nokomis, one of the detectives two daughters. College student majoring in biology and member of the chess club. Of course. What I hadn’t known about was her vitiligo and I found myself more interested than I should have been in the beautiful patterns on her skin. A particular blaze over her right eye was especially striking.

Shaking the thoughts loose I followed his example and so did Damian with his new charge. Our SUV was parked in the alley behind the house and it had been easy enough to blow out the lone street light a few days prior. We put our two in the third row while Roman climbed in the center with his prize. I felt a twinge of pity for her. Capturing his interest so intently was not an enviable thing for anyone.

I waited until Damian was pulling the car onto the street to speak. “Obviously this changes things.”

“No mierda Jey.” Damian’s irritation was obvious. He knew I hated it when jobs went wrong and I knew it irritated him as well. Not to mention bad intelligence was always followed by a period of mistrust and I knew J.D. was already on thin ice as it was. “You were serious about holding them?”

I looked back at the middle row to find my cousin petting the woman in his lap even as she seemed to struggle against him. It would have been funny if I didn’t know him. “Yeah. Can have some fun but don’t kill ‘em.” I looked pointedly at Roman.

“I don’t kill women Jey. Just…like to play rough.”

“Yeah with professionals, not college kids.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? She saw your face cabrón.” Damian cut in. He had a good point but I wasn’t worried. If I hadn’t thought through this possibility I may have been more stressed about the decision.

“Nah, when they see what we do to their old man they’ll be too scared to say shit and we’ve paid off or killed anyone else who could do shit about it anyway.”

He flexed his broad shoulders and stole a glance in the rear view as the other girls were coming to and shifting around in the far back seat. I wasn’t blind or dumb and while he wasn’t as obvious as Roman I could see he was interested in the little one he’d held onto.

“Could let off some steam.”

I smirked. It wouldn’t be hard to seduce them, a few drinks and some promises and they’d be pliant like most other females I dealt with on the regular. I’d be lying if said I wasn’t intrigued by the girl who stared at me in the rear view, her light brown eyes looking golden in passing streetlights. I could see the defiance in them.

Good. Maybe having to wait a few more days to end the cop who got too close and couldn’t be bought wouldn’t be so bad. Not with some pretty company.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for re-directing a gift from a homophobe?

I (30F) and my partner (30M) have a low contact relationship with his parents, my MIL and Step-FIL (SFIL). SFIL married into the family 5 years ago and has since progressed from quietly conservative to more openly racist, homophobic, etc.

We visited them at Thanksgiving and FIL wouldn’t stop using homophobic slurs even though he knows my parents are married gay men and we are obviously allies. I asked him not to use such language and explained why I found it offensive, including that it is dehumanizing. He said he uses it “intentionally to dehumanize and degrade” only the queer people that he doesn’t like and it’s okay because it’s his home and his bio daughter is a lesbian, that he wouldn’t use it around my parents because he respects them, etc. I ended our visit immediately, with my partners full support and I have not talked to MIL or SFIL since.

My partner spoke with SFIL once about how disappointed he (partner) is with SFIL’s behavior/attitude and has spoken with MIL several times since. MIL has apologized for SFIL and made excuses (he’s just like that, he grew up in a certain way, the usual BS). She feels it is not biblically correct, but is quieter about it and doesn’t openly antagonize queer people in my presence. Partner feels that MIL, who recently (3 years ago) became mostly paralyzed and had to quit work, has little choice but to rely on and apologize for SFIL and is being pushed into these views recently. I support him having a relationship with his mother (which is low contact by partners choice) but have created boundaries around speaking to and visiting MIL & SFIL myself.

Here’s the AITA part of the story. MIL, for the last 10 years (long before SFIL was in the picture) sends both myself and my partner a large check for Xmas. This year, I have told partner that I will be refusing my check since I don’t feel comfortable taking their money ethically and because it would make me feel beholden to people I don’t respect. Partner and I both think MIL will mail the gift anyway and claim that it is only her money from her disability, not shared.

My original idea if she still sent it was either to not cash it at all or to donate it to the Trevor Project. However, Partner pointed out that his mother will likely tell him to just spend both checks on himself if I continue to refuse, and that if they are the usual amount then by using both he could finally afford some adaptive equipment that would really help him with his disability while he goes back to school.

WIBTA if I agree Partner should use both checks for the equipment? Partner feels that since I won’t be directly spending it on myself, I am morally clear. I feel that because partner and I have shared finances and money is fungible, this is tantamount to me accepting it despite my feelings on its dubious morality and that would make me the asshole. WIBTA for redirecting this gift?

What are these acronyms?

[alectoperdita]

Fanfiction: Two monsters walk into the club by Alecto

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Kaiba Seto Characters: Kaiba Seto, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Succubi & Incubi, Morally Ambiguous Character, Blood Drinking, Hook-Up, Friends With Benefits, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk, Name-Calling, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Comeplay, Bloodplay, Wet & Messy, Light Masochism, Cock Slut, Threesome - M/M/M, Extremely Dubious Consent, Of An Unnamed Third Party, Spitroasting, Oral Sex, cock biting, Switching, Bottom Kaiba Seto, Tail Sex, Prostate Milking, Double Penetration in One Hole, Overstimulation, Outdoor Sex, Spit As Lube, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, ball biting, Come as Lube, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Rimming, Blood As Lube

Summary:

What happens when two predators mistake the other for a meal? It's the beginning of a bloody and beautifully symbiotic relationship.

Read Chapter 5: Sweater Weather on AO3

This is an expanded edited version of a previously posted tumblr ficlet.

---

"Let me guess, you're giving fetish modeling a go."

Seto had walked in on many a peculiar sight since Katsuya started frequenting his penthouse. It usually happened after he was freshly awake post-sunset. For a creature without a domicile—or someone who treated Seto's home as one, and nope, Seto wasn't prepared to interrogate that right now—the incubus sported a bottomless wardrobe, figuratively. Seto couldn't recall Katsuya wearing any articles of clothing, much less entire outfits, twice, and he had an exceedingly good memory.

But the sight of Katsuya in a woolen, pastel pink dress?—tube top?—something, bent forward at the waist and checking out his own reflection in the window, still raised an eyebrow. Because while the weather had taken a turn for the cold, and the nights lengthened, much to Seto's relief, a sweater wouldn't keep any creature, even a demon, particularly warm if it bared that much skin. It could've been a fever dream, but vampires didn't dream so...

Less surprising was the large heart-shaped cutout in the back exposing Katsuya's creamy flesh, through which his tail also poked out. No, that was par for the course for Katsuya's sartorial tastes.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere glamrock freddy(maybe even his ruin self) with a darling who is Gregory’s older sister? And maybe with the yandere prompt 14?

Sure, decided to not do a prompt for this as another request asked for Prompt 14. May have plot holes, I know, but this is just meant to discuss the idea

Yandere! Glamrock Freddy with Gregory's Older Sister! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Parental yandere, Clingy behavior, Dubious/Forced companionship.

Honestly this is a bit tricky to think of but this is what I have.

You are the older sister of Gregory, I was thinking adopted but it's up to you.

(Only because idk if he's a robot himself or not?)

I'm personally a sucker for you being the "morally correct" one out of the pair.

You have always looked out for your more chaotic and rambunctious brother.

Regardless on his origins.

This already would put you on good terms with Freddy.

The bot already has trouble watching the kid.

The thing that is concerning me is how you two would meet.

For the sake of plot maybe you're also good with robotics.

(Would make sense if your brother was a robot.)

Perhaps even working day or night shift at the Pizzaplex.

If you worked at the Pizzaplex you'd have a better time at helping the two, which is a good way to start this.

So let's start there.

You have no idea Gregory somehow snuck in during night shift.

That is until you heard warnings of a kid running around with Freddy.

Going to check it out you end up finding Gregory and Freddy.

Freddy already knows you due to your job.

However, he did not know you and Gregory were connected in any way.

When Freddy sees Gregory run up to you he panics slightly due to encounters with Vanessa.

Except now you both share a hug... confusion and relief evident on your faces.

It's enough to make Freddy feel... odd.

He can't keep his optics off the sight.

He goes to question you... only to hear something he wasn't expecting.

"Freddy, he's my brother... I'm not sure why he's here though."

You're... siblings?

Freddy almost finds himself tilting his head at the question.

"You never told me?"

"It never came up."

It's then Freddy realizes taking care of Gregory will be easier than he thought.

Surely you can take him home?

Turns out you're not allowed to leave your shift... you may not even be able to due to being unable to open the shutters.

As a result you promise to look after your brother.

You try to get Freddy to go and charge but now he refuses to part.

"You could need help! Kids can be a handful, right?"

Reluctantly you allow Freddy to help care for Gregory while keeping him out of sight from Vanessa.

Said night guard isn't as understanding as you are....

This is the main way you could meet Freddy, the other is if there was an AU of one of the endings.

Maybe one where Gregory takes Freddy home and you have to look after both of them because what else is there to do?

The police may just arrest you for theft.

As a result, due to being good at electronics, you are able to charge and care for Freddy until you're able to figure out what to do.

Those are some potential backgrounds that can help fit in a darling who is a sister to Gregory.

Now I'll speak about how you two could interact.

Freddy would get along with you if you act similar to a parent with Gregory.

You may be his sister but you are certainly capable of "moming" him.

Something Freddy finds amusing.

Freddy is still a very docile yandere despite being overprotective.

Especially if you're close to Gregory.

If he escaped the Pizzaplex with Gregory and hid with you, he's grateful for you keeping him in working order.

If you are roaming the Pizzaplex with the two, Freddy knows something is wrong with his friends, so instinctively he tries to protect you with Gregory.

For the most part nothing changes compared to the usual yandere Glamrock Freddy.

He's protective, clingy, and emotionally manipulative.

For the most part he just wants to protect you.

He wants to help you take care of Gregory and maybe even grow a connection to you.

He claims it's just because he wants to help.

In reality he probably just wishes to be close to you and Gregory.

In his eyes you're family.

Maybe he sees you both as children to protect, even though you're an adult.

Something akin to seeing you as his cubs.

Or maybe he sees you as something different and out of his programming?

Honestly, it's up to you, as he acts nearly the same in both ways.

Freddy hates leaving you and often asks you to call him.

If you had to leave him with Gregory he doesn't mind.

He'll watch him for you!

But you will be back, right?

Freddy isn't really shy about showing his appreciation for you.

He hugs you and voices his appreciation for what you do for him and Gregory.

As a result, Freddy promises he'll do anything for you.

He'll stay at home if you ask or watch Gregory as you check something in the Pizzaplex...

He trusts you for the most part, he sees you as family!

You won't leave family, will you?

[prettyinaccurate]

Do you have more lore of graham and arthur besides them fucking one time as well as their established jobs?,i love them so much and i want more of them.

I do! Their backstories are pretty flushed out by now, so ill put em below if youre interested!!

Graham:

Graham was born in London to a middle class family in the very late 19th century. His mother died giving birth to him, and he had no siblings, but his relationship with his father was good. His father did the best he could raising him, but had to work a lot to support their family, and often left Graham to his own devices. This didn't bother Graham at all, since it gave him the freedom to do as he pleased.

Graham's father owned a salvage shop (which is basically a Victorian thrift store), and they lived in the apartment above it. The money was nothing impressive, but it was enough to get by. However, since Graham’s father rarely left and Graham had no interest in making friends, the store was basically where he was raised. Surrounded by such a wide variety of oddities donated or pawned, he would occasionally come across old books and instruments relating to the sciences. He poured his life into these outdated textbooks and studying these strange instruments; quickly developed a deeper understanding of them than most scientists would dare to dream. Particularly, he was most fascinated by herbology, chemistry, alchemy, and anatomy. 

When Graham was a teenager, his father died of scarlet fever. Graham had never been significantly impacted by emotion, and, while knowing he would miss his father, was not partially saddened. (Still this would impact his interest in creating cures.)  In his will, his father left him a decent sum of money, the shop, and the apartment above it. Uninterested in continuing the business, Graham sold just about everything inside the shop at a heavily discounted price, keeping only that which related to his studies. Using this money and that his father left, Graham decided to put himself through college. This did not work out. He learned in his first year that the college taught from the same textbooks he had already memorized, and he understood the contents on a deeper level than even his professors. After three semesters, he dropped out and returned home. 

Now equipped with money he had not needed for college and more confidence than ever, Graham used what was left of his inheritance to purchase that which he needed for starting his own experiments. He found a lot of success in creating elixirs of a wide variety; started with simple things like cough remedies, fever reducers, and soothing balms. He continued like this for about a year before delving into more ambitious elixirs. His success continued, though was briefly interrupted by an incident involving lye which left him blind in his right eye. He recovered speedily with one of his own cures, but did not regain sight. Soon after being blinded, Graham decided to take his work more seriously. He reopened his father’s shop under the name “Hurst Curatives” and began to sell his work. He saw rapid and wild success, as word quickly spread of his almost “magical” cures. All it took was a single request at an exuberant price from a nobleman to Graham for him to realize commissions could be very lucrative. Again, he never much understood moral codes, so he saw no issue when these commissions eventually took on a dubious nature. In a matter of five or so years, he established himself as a disliked but distinctly respected member of the community, knowing a lot of bad things about very important people. He is untouchable! He is rich! Life is pretty damn good.

Arthur:

Arthur was born to an immigrant family in the late 19th century. His path is more traditional, but certainly a success. His parents came to America from Scotland, settling in a large city on the east coast. His mother was pregnant when they arrived, and he was born not one month later. His family did not have much money, and lived in a shared home with ten or so other families. Since this made for a crowded and chaotic environment, Arthur spent a lot of time at the library, or reading on the outside stoop.

Arthur was not immediately captured by the sciences. Instead, he was entranced by fairy tales, especially the stories of brave heroes sacrificing everything for the good of another. Deeply empathetic, he was inspired by these tales of heroism and would carry them with him to adulthood.

Arthur did not have any formal schooling in his formative years, but learned to read and write early on from an older Scottish man who shared their building. It was enough that he was able to attend secondary school, where he excelled. During this period, he decided to become a physician, hoping to help people much like the heroes in his childhood stories. His teachers were impressed by his drive, compassion, and grades; enough so that he was put up for an academic scholarship, which he was awarded. 

In college, and through to his doctorate, Arthur’s life did not see much excitement or change. He threw himself into his studies with a great passion, passing on a social life in favor of reaching his goal. He began a paid internship, at which point he began sending money home to his parents so they could live more comfortably.

His mentor, an Englishman originally from the outskirts of London, was delighted by Arthur’s progress and care. So delighted, in fact, that his mentor offered Arthur a position as lead physician not one year after receiving his doctorate, explaining that a dear friend of his was retiring, and had asked for a promising doctor to take over his position. Arthur accepted this offer excitedly, and was shipped off to London just as soon as he was granted permission to practice there. It’s not very long after his arrival, however, that he notices many of the cases in London are… odd. What, or who, is the cause?

[cravingpepsimax]

would you like to hear about by stancest fankid bc she's gnawing on the bars of her enclosure right now and i can tell you're in a mood. jk im telling you anyways because i dont have a stancest sideblog

her name is stella pines and TECHNICALLY she's not related to either of them. and fords technically her stepdad. she ran away from home and was a feral forest child until stan was able to lure her into the mystery shack with beef jerkey. she also got Ghost Cursed but she doesn't talk about that :) Ghost Curse makes her basically albino but she just rolls with it. she's goth now. hell yeah. (Ghost Curse does more shit but that would be a whole other essay that im too tired to write rn. tldr; shes a lot more animalistic and feral and morally dubious than most people. ford has almost an aneurysm when he meets her bc Ghost Curse.)

stan found her when she was 9, around 10 years before the events of Gravity Falls. he Does Not Know where she came from and she Will Not Share. he named her stella because she didnt tell him what her name was prior to The Forest and so he went down a list of baby names until he found one she didn't bite him over. he's still not sure if it was her name or not (it wasnt)

stan explained her to gravity falls by just saying that he hooked up with a lady in vegas on a trip a while back and now the kids staying with him. This Is My Daughter. Put That DNA Test Away.

she figured out stan was lying about something pretty quick and by the time she was 11, she knew (basically) everything. she really really wanted to help but stan shooed her out every time she tried because "it's dangerous" and "you could get hurt" and "it's a lot of math, you'll probably get bored" and stellas just like "dad. i have disemboweled and devoured something thing that i'm only half sure was an animal using only my teeth when i was five years old. Let Me Into The Math Dungeons." and stans like "no"

she helps out in the mystery shack instead because SOMEBODY won't let her chew on wires in the basement. mabel thinks she's the shit. dipper is concerned.

when fords back shes just like "HEY uncle ford ive heard SO MUCH about you" *winkwink nudgenudge KISS HIM DAD*. when stan and ford tell her theyre dating shes like "about fucking time. do you wanna be pops or something or are you still uncle ford. youre pops now actually ive decided. anyways im crashing at wendys for the night i sure do hope you dont get this large house all to yourselves for the night with nobody to bother you when you do stuff. would be a real shame."

she has bingo nights with the gnomes every other tuesday. They Let Her Use Their Tunnels. this comes in handy.

OMG YES YES YES YESSS I LOVE HER SO MUCHHHH

one of the names for sylvan i considered was actually stellan WKAKSKSMSM

she means everything to me already . a DUBIOUS little creature getting up to MISCHIEF this is no good …

i feel like sylvan would have such a siblinglike relationship with her. they are bickering constantly but they are besties. somethin’ to do with them being feral and morally dubious. they would totally be gravity falls newest cryptids.

stella: oh, yeah, forgot to tell you: i’ve got a ghoooost cuurse *wiggles her fingers spookily* that’s where i get my white hair from!

sylvan: wish i had powers from my albinism. i’m just blind and can’t go out in the sun

stella, nodding: like a vampire.

sylvan: *raises a brow*

stella: ‘cause, you know, the sun… and… bats…

sylvan: not only are bats not blind, their eyesight is great.

stella: *rolls her eyes* ugh. remind me to never try to cheer you up again.

anon if you don’t make a stancest blog i am going to Attack you . with Hammers . i need to Communicate With You