#I want him to suffer and be alone forever

[boombambaby]

Anticipating Malina's panic from his threat to read one of his infamous POEMS in front of the entire village, Kuzco is ready for her when she rushes forward to stop him. Disbelief, excitement and a myriad of other emotions course through him at the realization that the moment is finally, actually HERE. He's really about to hopefully make his dream a reality!

Giddy laughter bubbles out of him as he allows her to lower both his hands and the scroll, revealing his beaming smile inch by inch until they're face to face once more. After a moment he finally releases the scroll, paying no mind to the parchment rolling carelessly down the hillside, in favor of turning Malina's hands over so that he can twine their fingers together.

The ceremony is over, remember? They can finally break the 'no-touchy' fast!

Staring at her anxious expression and feeling nothing but affection, the world narrows down to a pinprick around them. Villagers, friends, family-- everything falls to the wayside, until it's just the two of them standing on this hilltop, and its once again like they never left that room. During his speech, he noticed their former classmates and friends gathered together at the back of the crowd, and he wonders now whether any of them saw this coming.

Despite his insistence that Malina was going to become his Empress, there was no real guarantee that this day would ever come. In his mind it was certain, but the reality of the situation would have appeared to everyone else that Malina had simply taken pity on him. Realizing that he was an out of place new student who just so happened to be a royal, surrounded by peasants ( none of whom particularly liked him, after how carelessly he treated peasants before his rude awakening ), she likely thought it to be her duty as the captain of every club, A+ student and most popular girl in school to make sure that he made it through without suffering . . . too much. A personal mission, of sorts.

Little does either of them know, however, that their friends and classmates saw right through them both from the very beginning. Anyone with eyes could see the feelings they had for one another, with Malina and Kuzco ( and Kronk ) near inseparable when she wasn't busy with cheerleading or any of her clubs. He tagged along behind her like a lost puppy, and it was obvious how much she enjoyed being a part of ( and curtailing ) his antics. This has been years in the making, and if either of them bothered to look in this moment, they would notice the looks of excitement on their friends faces as they watched the moment unfold.

Tearing himself from his inner thoughts, Kuzco gives her hands a squeeze as he leans in, glancing around for a moment as if unwilling to let anyone else hear him when he whispers through a soft smile; " Just play along with it. This bit kills! " a throwback to her Bloom Ball, and yet another reminder of how far they've come.

Out loud so the village can hear, " Ohhh, I get it. You want me to wait until later when we're alone to read you the poem. Gotcha. " He teases, just to make her blush before clearing his throat to continue. " I know we haven't known each other for that long of a time, even though it feels like it's been forever . . . well. I didn't know YOU, since-- you know. Peasant. But ! you obviously knew ME, the awesome Emperor who rules this Kingdom. " A loud ' KUZCO RULES! ' comes from the crowd, everyone's favorite pudge-muffin making himself known before he's quickly muffled by their friends. " --and I know I've been an incredibly good looking handful in that amount of time, but . . . I want you to know, that this? All of this ? "

He lets go of one of her hands to gesture at himself; the warpaint on his face, the intricately designed traditional outfit, complete with the ceremonial feathered crown, and then finally to the hillside with the peasants gathered below them. " -- I couldn't have done it, any of it without YOU. You were the only one who cared about me enough to make sure I stayed on track. That Yzma didn't actually succeed in her hairbrained schemes to get rid of me, that Moleguaco didn't fail me out of spite and that I graduated after I turned myself into a chicken to try and get out of it. " He cracks a smile at the reminder, and the memory of Malina carrying chicken!Kuzco through the crowd to stop Yzma before she was crowned Empress. " We've had our ups and downs, and I know you said you would never worship me, but . . . "

His free hand slips into the hidden pocket of his tunic to retrieve a small golden box. When opened, it will reveal a stylish, braided golden ring, inlaid with the same turquoise as his earrings surrounding a large, ruby gemstone in the middle. Kuzco bends to one knee, presenting the box to her with his free hand and squeezing the hand he's still holding as he finishes his big, important question. " -- I'm hoping you changed your mind. . .

-- Malina, . . . will you finally become my Empress ? "

Kuzco's sudden announcement at the peasants interrupts her thoughts and she turns her head to look at the crowd. She then spotted her parents and sister from up the hill, next to them was Pacha's family. She had given Chicha a confused look as she mouthed what it seems to be like: 'What's up with him?', referring to her crazy boyfriend while he's there speaking. She couldn't see Pacha's wife response because she had turned her head abruptly to stare in disbelief at Kuzco, who had just mentioned he had written a poem. She is even more mortified when she looks at the length of the scroll.

For the love of Inti... not again. She could hardly survive the 'Why does Malina like me?' poem he had dedicated to her at school. To be honest, while she secretly finds his poems adorable... in a way... they don't make any sense, which makes her feel ashamed for both him and herself. She loves him, but she'd run seven mountains away if she ever let him bully her in front of her family, friends and strangers. Malina gets closer to Kuzco as fast as she could, places her hands atop his and gently lowers the scroll so he won't be able to read beyond those three words. "Ok ok! There's no need to do such thing before asking an important question, your highness. You just-" She pauses herself and leans in closer to him. "Kuzco... what the hell do you think you're doing?" She whispers, narrowing her eyes at him.

Even if he gets her on her nerves with his antics and that stupid but attractive smirk of his which give her the urge to kick his royal butt, Malina has to admit she can't see herself being anywhere else but by his side.

[isekai-ideas]

Just read “Cry, or Better Yet, Beg”, and I gotta say. I hate the male lead. I hate him so much. I have never had this much furious hate for a character. Every chapter, he gets worse. And I know for a fact that with how it’s going, he’s going to be the endgame, and I hate it even more. Beautiful art, loveable, adorable female lead, cute family dynamic with her uncle, equally adorable and lovable second male lead, evil hell spawn main male lead. Hate him. Hate hate hate hate hate. In honor of that hatred, I give you a fix it scenario where a girl is reincarnated as the young lady of Brandt, the male lead’s intended fiancée. She, like me, hates that man, but loves that girl. In order to steer the female lead away from the male lead, she intends to befriend her for real, and give her the confidence and skills to fight against the narrative and dare to defy the Duke (horrible evil male lead). Initially, she intends to steer her towards the cute second male lead, but as their relationship develops, it becomes increasingly more difficult to ignore her own feelings for the female lead. The female lead herself has also discovered that she’s feeling feelings for her girl best friend, who’s so nice and encouraging. How will they get around society’s weird hang up with gay people and poor people dating rich people? How will they elude and possibly destroy the Duke?

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 749: The last Straight Road*

(NdT.: same pun Kinaka always makes with his name and the word for straight road)

Pag 1

1: I....

3: Imaizumi-san!!

4: Go- good work!!

Good work!!

You were taking a long time for this lap

Pag 2

1: Yes, teh, I got a fl-fl-flat- my bike!!

Yessir!!

2: It's the tire!!

4: Only tires can get a flat

Ah- damn, yes, that's right

Right!!

6: I thought something like this might have happened, so I brought these

Replacement tubes, tire levers, and a pump. Use them

Pag 3

2: This is unusual!! I never thought Imaizumi-san was the attentive type – is it just for us!?

Yeah!! I thought first and second years were just not important to him....

3: You don't want to use the,?

We'll use them, thank you so much!!

4: You saved us, teh....!!

That's true

6: Ah, uhm... but..... Imaizumi-san

Earlier you said that

7: Sugimoto-san won't come”, what did you mean?

Pag 4

1: He retired

Pag 5

1: He's still displayed on the board, but

3: There's still time until midnight

If Sugimoto-kun....

4: Please leave the possibility open in case Sugimoto-kun wants to come back!!

5: Onoda insisted

6: Re... tired.....

Sugi..... moto-san....

Pag 6

1: He used up all his stamina and mental strength in his fight against Danchiku, and he was defeated

2: You didn't notice because you've been on the course the whole time

4: Ah... actually, when it got dark, Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san passed us various times... teh

Huh!? That? So at that time-!?

5: You have no time to talk about unimportant things

As soon as you're done with the repairs, run, first years

6: Soon

Pag 7

1: Waa, ye-yes, teh, thank you for the tools

Yeah, there's still 40km

2: If we join our strengths....

Don't cooperate

5: Teh!?

7: From now on, you can't allow yourselves to run like friends

8: Huh....

Our “buddies” stickers.....!?

You have to fight

Pag 8

1: And win the last spot to be an Inter High member!!

Pag 9

1: Fa.... ight....

2: Against.... Kinaka-kun

3: Against.... Rokudai

4: 35km left!!

Gooo!! Kinakaa, Rokudaii!!

Do your best...!!

5: I feel like they'll be able to run the 1000km!!

Amazing!

Ah, but there was no distance between them just now?

Pag 10

1: Fight....

2: The spot as a regular in the two-times national champion, Sohoku....

3: I can't take it by just being friendly....!!

4: And also

5: There's Sugimoto-san's wish!!

Pag 11

1: Wa- wait, please, Imaizumi-san

But.... if in this training camp the condition to become the sixth regular was to finish the 1000km first....

2: Then why did Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san race!?

4: I came here to give you a message from Sugimoto

5: I think, I think it's necessary, you know

Sohoku is a team that connect and support each other

6: Just like during our first year, you, Naruko, and Onoda, connected your wishes and aimed for the goal

7: And last year Kaburagi ran with Aoyagi-san and carried the team until the mountains on the third day

8: So I think we need it

9: Our third year Inter High members

Pag 12

1: Definitely need a “first year”!!

3: Even if he knew he was making his own situation worse, he thought about the best shape for the team would be

4: He accepted it, and fought

Pag 13

1: For the fifth place

3: Among the first years, those two are left, I look forward to see what they do!!

That's too much food

4: Danchiku probably understood it, too

That's why he fought with all his strength

6: Now you two have to run with the weight of those expectations on your back!!

7: Fight, against your opponent and against yourself!! Use all your strength

Pag 14

1: And pull to yourself that last jersey!!

2: Straaa-

Pag 15

1: Straight roaaad!!

2: - traight!!

3: …. ngh

Ugh.....

4: Kinaka-kun.....

5: Don't cry, Rokudai!!

Pag 16

1: What are you doing, oi!! I'll leave you behind like this!! I'll tear you off!!

If you give up, then it's lucky for me!!

2: My goal has always been the Inter High jersey!!

To get back at those senpai who made fun of me!!

3: To show it to the Onii-san who taught me how to ride bikes!!

So, for that....

6: So I'm telling you not to cry!!

Pag 17

1: But, Kinaka-kun....

It's that your “Straitgh road”, wasn't fast at all....!!

4: You knee? It's your knee, right?

Since when? Since a while ago?

5: Since when we were at about 800km

Pag 18

1: It's a race, Rokudai

2: You should have told me, teh

I didn't notice, teh!!

3: I'm such an incapable former manager, teh....

4: Since when I lost to you in the first years' race

6: I've been thinking that I would definitely not lose the next time we race

7: Even though the truth is that I don't really care about that anymore

So, once again...

Pag 19

1: It's a race, Rokudai!!

3: Let's do it, Rokudai!!

I can't, teh

4: Race me, pedal!!

I don't want to, teh....

5: Fight me!!

I won't pedal, teh

Pag 20

1: Because, if I fight you now, Kinaka-kun, I'll end up winning, teh

Pag 22

1: With that kindness of yours, support our senpai during the Inter High

[sysig]

I hope you blink before I do (Patreon)

[persephoneflouwers]

🫀.

[talentforlying]

LET ME ASSIGN YOU AN AESTHETIC WORD.

CAFUNÉ. cafuné means running your fingers through someone's- perhaps a lover, hair. it's such an intimate, affectionate way of showing love. if you got this result, you're a romantic at heart; very sweet, delicate, precious wandering soul. aren't you scared of your heart being too big for your body? somehow, you remind me of that pretty coral pink that bleeds into a soft indigo when the sun is slowly setting.

what i'd like to tell you is that we can't save everyone, and that's okay. you're doing your best, and it's enough.

tagged by: @danversiism!! <3 tagging: you!!

[imaginarianisms]

1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.

[recareels]

Tartaglia is getting increasingly jealous about the attention you are giving daddy dendro, be careful clari😳

WAAAAH anon!!! (*/ω＼*) stop hehehe u just made me so giddy!!! he is such the jealous type tho like the man is borderline yandere and lately i’ve been thinking about just how he’d react, knowing he was my first favourite, my original favourite, but then came ayato and thoma (a packaged deal, of course), and now here comes alhaitham, stomping all over everything with his big stupid boots and what the fuck??? ajax was here first, and he doesn’t even have a single fic to show for it, only bits and pieces of finished work!? that’s not fair! hehehe waaah i just feel like he’d be fuming over it all and def plotting some clever yet gruesome murders ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Very very early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone). Next upload will prob be heavy angst/no smut post-prison spencer (god help me please, i must be a masochist for the way i make myself suffer)

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly IV

~ part 4 of the Dolly series

pairing: lee know x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, horror/sci-fi

synopsis: the human body is the most fascinating thing and you know all about the intricate anatomy of it. ever so curious you purchase a human-looking doll and your life changes forever.

wc: 7.9k

warnings: death & dead bodies, reader is a mortician, mentions of needles and scalpels, sorry if there are any mistakes

nsfw warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, blood play, knife play, creampies, spanking, oral (m)

~ divider by @bunnysrph

It's eerily quiet around you but that doesn't bother you. Not tonight, not ever. Sometimes the silence is comforting and helps you concentrate on the intricate work you do.

You've always been fascinated with death, ever since you were a child. You weren't scared of it, you welcomed it with your arms wide open and it was your father who exposed you to it since you were young.

It wasn't really on purpose, but having a funeral home inside your house and a curious child was not a good combination.

Your father was a good and warm man, offering a friendly tap on the shoulder and a few consoling words to grieving family members, the ones who sat in his office discussing details about funerals, their noses runny and eyes red from crying.

Not all of them were like that; some just sat there with a numb look on their face, a kind of silent sorrow etched inside their features while there were those that seemed completely emotionless.

You'd always lean behind the wall and listen to them discuss until your father would notice you and send you back to your room. The only room in the house that looked somewhat... alive.

Your father was pretty fascinated with death and any art that surrounded it, prints of Francisco Goya's black paintings adorned the walls in your house; Saturn Devouring his Son, Witches' Sabbath, Two Old Men, Judith and Holofernes, Two Old Ones Eating Soup, Atropos...

They captivated you in a way you couldn't put into words and sometimes they gave you torturous nightmares, but you weren't scared.

You welcomed the darkness into your heart completely; in fact you thrived off of it.

It was one quiet and calm evening when you tiptoed down to your basement. The moonlight cast a glow through the windows as your shadow passed by the paintings staring at you with their freakish eyes.

The door was ajar and you pushed it, the creaking sound cutting the silence of the dark night as your heart started beating in your ears.

There they were on the table. A person who had succumbed to Death itself.

Silently, you treaded towards the sheet-covered body but before your little hand could reach it, your father grabbed your wrist gently, scaring you out of your wits.

"What are you doing here, y/n? You know you shouldn't be here." he said, taking you away from your curiosities.

"I- I just wanted to see."

"I know, sweetheart but it's not the time yet. One day, hopefully, you will take over this business just like I took over from your grandfather. Now, go back to sleep."

"Okay." you nodded, albeit feeling a bit sullen that you didn't get to see the person under the sheet.

It's been years since that night, and now you were the one who offered consoling words and friendly pats on the shoulders of grieving family members.

Your father had succumbed to his illness, leaving you alone in this world, alone with all the darkness and death. Of course, you missed him dearly but he suffered so much in his last years that you were somewhat thankful to Death for taking him.

Wherever he was, you knew he was at peace and watching over you.

Taking over his business was the natural step for you, death was just a part of life, and preparing someone's loved one for their funeral felt honorable and you viewed the entire process as a kind of art. When you were old enough, your father started teaching you bits and pieces about preparation and the embalming process, and of course it was only natural for you to develop even more interest for it and get the needed education.

You worked as his assistant at first and when he got sick you became the caretaker and the mortician.

Of course, you couldn't be the one to prepare your father for his burial, it was too much as you watched him disappear more and more every day while he was sick and you wanted your last memory of him to be as peaceful as it can be.

It's been a few years since then, and you were now one of the most respected morticians in your small town. You kept to yourself mostly, only having one close friend since you were kids, Emily.

But you weren't lonely, you focused on your work and your hobbies, like reading, painting and writing poetry, all in the company of your fur baby, your cat named Shadow. You had rescued the elegant black cat off the street when she was just a small lost kitty and ever since then you became inseparable.

Though, even you weren't immune to the troubles of dating. Most of your partners were a bit put off by your work, to say the least, especially if they'd come around to your house which you had repainted black, the decoration was halloween all year around coupled with the creepy paintings on your walls and the fact that there are dead bodies in your basement wasn't really an aphrodisiac.

It was frustrating because you wished you could share your life with someone who'd be genuinely into the things that interest you.

That's why when you found yourself mindlessly scrolling through social media, an ad caught your eye.

Sex dolls.

You chuckled to yourself as you got more comfy under your blanket, Shadow cracking one eye open to look at you from where she was curled up.

You clicked on it.

One doll in particular pulled you in.

Minho, the dark dolly.

He was beautiful, his hair black and shaggy, falling over his eyes, his features were sharp and perfect, somewhat feline-like and his lips seemed sweet and plump.

You liked the outfit they chose for him, all black like you dressed 99% of the time completed with a choker around his neck.

He was perfect.

You scrolled around looking at the other dolls, they all seemed intriguing but Minho was the one you wanted the most.

Besides, some of them already sold so you decided not to wait and jumped on it, ordering yourself the dark dolly. And it didn't take long for him to be delivered to your house, in a big black box reminiscent of a casket. Shadow inspected the box immediately, sniffing and rubbing against it, she seemed to approve of it.

You opened it up eagerly, finally taking a look at your beautiful Minho and he was even more perfect in real life than all the pictures they had posted.

There was a letter inside the box and you opened it up.

Hello,

my name is Minho and I am your dark dolly.

I love cats, horror movies, yummy food and staying inside.

Please treat me with kindness, even though I like scary things, I have a soft soul so never forget to pat my head.

Hope you'll love me as much as I love you.

"I'm glad you love cats, otherwise I'd have to send you back." you joked, as Shadow put her paws on the box, sniffing around before meowing at you.

"You approve, I suppose?" you asked and your cat meowed once again so you were satisfied.

"I guess you do." you ripped off the rest of the bubble wrap, scaring your cat with your movements as she scurried away to her place on the sofa.

Your doll was dressed in a black button up shirt that was almost see-through, coupled with black leather pants and some fine shoes. He looked so alive, it would've been eerie if you weren't already used to looking at people lying down lifelessly before you.

You noticed a little note sticking out of his pocket so you pulled it out and opened it.

My kitten!

I got ready for our rendezvous.

I hope you like the outfit I chose and I hope you'll enjoy our first night together.

"Kitten, huh? Interesting." you smirked as you grabbed the manual, ready to read it from top to bottom but your curiosity got the better of you so you reached your hand to touch Minho.

"Oh." that definitely felt like human skin.

Something was wrong here and you felt it from the moment you laid eyes on his still body. But of course, you weren't afraid, in fact you were determined to find out the truth.

You read the entire manual carefully, going over it a few times, specifically the part where it said the doll can bruise.

How can the doll bruise if there's no blood inside its body?

"Hm." you threw the manual aside and finally lifted the doll out of its little casket, setting it down on the couch in the sitting position.

It took some time to adjust him but Shadow came to sniff Minho and rub against him, seemingly she liked him very much and you trusted your cat's intuition.

"Give me a moment." you said to the doll before running to get some stuff you needed from the basement.

"I'm sorry for this." you grimaced as you sat down next to Minho.

Just a little prick on the skin is what you needed so you grabbed his hand and brought it closer to you as you held the little needle in your other hand. Quickly, you pricked him and waited for a moment.

Nothing was happening so you sighed putting the needle on a tray you brought. You were just about to get up when you noticed it; a tiny droplet of blood oozing out of your doll's finger. With a gasp you stared at the red liquid.

Your mind was reeling and before you could stop yourself, you brought his finger to your lips, licking at the droplet, the metallic taste of blood was unmistakable. Your doll had real blood inside its body. Something about that frightened you, but that fear ignited a flame within you and you wrapped your lips around his finger, lightly sucking on it, the blood coming out slowly as you lapped at it.

"Oh. Looks like I'm not the only one enjoying this." Minho's eyes were shining and his pants were filling up, the button almost popping off.

He was big and usually you weren't this impatient but it's been some time. Your hand explored his muscular thigh, running up to cup his erection and you swore you could feel him twitch in your hand.

You scooted closer to him, hand tangling in his hair and it was surprisingly soft and it smelled of shampoo like he had just washed it. You leaned in to take a whiff before pressing kisses there all the way down to his cheeks. His soft skin under your lips felt heavenly and you were already getting addicted to him.

You pressed your lips into his softly, then pressed them again a bit harder as your hands roamed on his chest. He was muscle everywhere and you were fluttering on the inside, your arousal increasing the more you touched him.

A loud pop scared you as you jolted looking down to find the source. A small laugh escaped your lips when you realized that the button on his pants had actually popped off.

"Fine, you're eager." you chuckled, sliding his pants down, your eyes on his prominent bulge instantly. Your nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and strong biceps that were visible in the tanktop he wore.

"Wait. I should undress too." you said and Shadow perked up from her spot before standing up and rushing out of the living room like she had understood what was about to happen.

You took your robe off, letting it fall on the floor, you were left only in the silky black nightgown so slowly you slid that off too, the material pooling around your feet.

Minho seemed to have some kind of reaction, at least his neck flushed a little and you were wondering how it does that. How is any of this real?

That didn't matter after you stripped him completely, your eyes admiring the work of art before you. Hands touching and lips exploring, you didn't care about how freaky all this was.

Somewhere along the way you lost your panties, so you straddled Minho's lap, your hands grabbing his face. He was absolutely stunning and your pussy clenched at the look in his eyes. It seemed like there was a fire inside them, a passion burning wild.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, big and heavy in your hand, making you whimper at the thought of it being inside you. You ran the throbbing tip against your wet folds before slowly sinking down on him.

The stretch was delicious as you took him in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support, your hands splayed on his muscular back. When you adjusted, you slowly started to move up and down on his length, the squelching sounds filling up the room as you dripped on him.

It seemed as if Minho was looking at you and you sped up, bouncing on him faster, your moans getting louder as you neared your high.

Your nails dug into his flesh as you exploded around him, your hand running down to cup his ass which made him cum too, the warm liquid filling you up and making your eyes roll back.

"Wow." you gasped. Only when you lifted up and circled the couch, you saw that his back had angry red scratch marks.

"Shit, I'm sorry." you leaned over to look at Minho's face.

He seemed to be smirking just a tiny bit?

"I hope it doesn't hurt." you said, not forgetting to pat and caress your dolly's head. You pressed a few small kisses on his cheek before leaving to get cleaned up.

When you came back, Minho was waiting for you in the same position so you cleaned him too and put some of his clothes back on, the pants definitely needed some mending.

"A sex doll?" Emily looked at you in disbelief, holding Shadow in her arms like a baby, moving the cat left and right.

"Yes, isn't he beautiful?" you smirked, patting Minho's head as he sat in your kitchen, company to you and your friend.

"I mean, he is. It's just a little creepy." she said and you gave her a pointed look which made her laugh. "But I shouldn't be surprised when it comes to you. He really looks human though." Emily added, coming closer to the doll as Shadow jumped out of her arms.

"Here's the thing. I pricked his finger the other day and he bled." you told her, adjusting on your chair as you picked up your cup of tea.

"He what? Now, that's creepy. Are you sure it was blood? Maybe it's some kind of trick?"

"Nope, it was definitely blood." you shook your head.

"Hm. Can you like open him up?" Emily asked, making you chuckle.

"Do you know how much I paid for him? I'm not about to cut him up, besides the manual said not to mutilate the doll."

"And why is that? Because they don't want you to know the doll's secrets? Just think about it." Emily shrugged. "Anyways, I have to go. Call me if you find anything out." she added, wiggling her brows.

You took a look at Minho, it hasn't even been a week since he was in your house, but he blended in perfectly with the rest of the decor, even when he was more than that. Shadow seemed to love him, always rubbing against his legs and sleeping on his lap. Animals had a sixth sense when it came to things like this so you trusted that you weren't in any danger. Still, you were so curious.

-

Come evening, you were in a mood.

There was music blasting from your speakers, the lights were all out except the dimmed moody ones and a few candles here and there. The tv was on too, a silent horror film playing on it. Outside, it was raining hard, almost drowning out any other sounds as big droplets kept hitting your window.

Shadow was tucked away in her room and you were wearing lingerie.

Minho was sat on your couch, you turned him to look directly at you as you downed a glass of wine before you started swinging your hips seductively.

The music took you over and you danced, forgetting about everything around you, including your companion Minho whose eyes were following every single movement, unbeknown to you.

"Oh!" you spun a little too fast, colliding with the side of the sofa and chuckling to yourself.

Your eyes fell to Minho, then the coffee table where you had left some cake and knife to cut it with. You bit on your lip as you made your way towards him slowly.

You picked up the knife, twirling the handle once, twice as you smirked at the dolly.

"Are you scared, doll?" you leaned towards him, your tits almost falling out of your skimpy bra as you pointed the knife at Minho.

He didn't seem to react at all.

"No? How about now?" you asked, leaning the knife on his cheek gently. "Or now?" you added, sliding it down his chest and abdomen slowly all the way towards the bulge that appeared in his boxers.

"Enjoying this? I'm glad." you smirked, putting the knife aside for a moment to unhook your bra and slide down your panties.

You undressed Minho too, spreading his legs a little and adjusting him before you turned your back to him.

"Like what you see?" you ran your hands up your hips to your waist as you looked back at him.

The reflection of the candlelight burned in his eyes as you slowly sat in his lap, his length filling your pussy up perfectly, your feet planted on the floor. A moan escaped your lips when you found purchase on his thighs, bracing yourself as you started to bounce on him. The sound of your ass slapping against his abdomen filled up the room and you threw your head back, enjoying the feeling of his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

"Ah! Fuck, Minho!" you moaned his name, feeling him twitch inside you instantly and you gasped as you came, lifting off of him and squirting all over his thighs. What a sweet mess.

"Oh." you moaned, taking him in once again as you sat down and started moving up and down, your thighs burning from exertion. You reached back to grab a handful of his ass, making the doll fill you up.

You leaned on him, your back flush against his chest as you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around you.

"I kinda wish you would come to life but at the same time I don't know if you'd like me. Right now, you have no choice. Isn't that kinda fucked up?" you looked up at Minho but there was no sign of reaction or movement. "Well, don't move. I'll be right back." you joked as you stood up.

You prepared a bath for the both of you, struggling a little to get him in but as soon as you did, you sat between his legs and relaxed in the warm water.

Shadow appeared in your bathroom, meowing at you.

"What is it?" you chuckled, leaning a little to the side to look at her.

Your cat's tail twitched a few times as she stared at Minho, releasing a few more meows before sitting down and continuing to stare at him. You looked back at your doll but he was chilling, looking straight ahead like he always does.

Eventually, Shadow gave up the staring and left the bathroom. Huh, that was weird, you thought but brushed it off as cat behavior.

After drying yourself and the dolly, you got dressed and tucked him in your bed. After years of sharing your bed only with your cat, it was nice to also have someone fill up the empty side of it. And Minho was warm and soft in a way, you had no idea how they made him like that but in the tired and lonely moments, you didn't care.

It's been almost a month since Minho entered your life and you shared almost every moment with him. He had watched you cook and clean, do your hobbies, play with your cat. But, you had yet to take him downstairs.

You weren't even sure if you wanted to. But you were dragging him around the house all the time like a kid drags their favorite teddy bear so you didn't see the harm in it.

Whenever a grieving family came to talk to you, Minho was tucked away in the safety of your room. Today, a particularly loud widow came in to cry to you about her husband who was now in your basement, waiting to be prepared for his funeral.

You reassured her he was in best hands and that you'll make him look as wonderful as you can, since the accident he passed away in had ruined his face.

You just needed to get some things from a few shops before starting, and as soon as the widow left you went to your room to see Minho.

"I'm going to town. I'll be back soon, honey." you chuckled, giving him a peck and a few pats on his soft hair.

You were done with shopping quickly and as the sun was setting you decided to walk across the main square and have a short stroll since you weren't carrying many things.

You saw a little crowd gathered there around someone so naturally curious, you made your way towards it.

An artist was sitting on a little stool, painting a portrait of one of the onlookers. You peered down to look at the canvas, hypnotized by the brush strokes and the movement of this person's hand.

Your eyes followed his arm to his face and your brows furrowed. He looked somewhat familiar. You were trying to think where you had seen him before but kept coming up blank.

"Do you want a portrait?" his voice broke you out of your thoughts.

"Ah, yes sure." you nodded and he started working on it immediately.

He was talented and quick and you kept observing him as he worked, still trying to think where he was familiar from.

"Here. Done." he smiled proudly and you chuckled.

"Thank you, it's really good." you took out your wallet. "Here." you gave him a 100, and his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, thank you! T-this is a lot! Thank you so much!" he bowed a little as he took the bill from you.

"What's your name?" you asked.

"H-Hyunjin, miss." he looked a little panicked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"Have I seen you somewhere?" you asked and he chuckled nervously, and you noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Maybe you've seen me paint here." he said but you still weren't convinced.

"Maybe. You come here often?"

"I'm trying to make some money to buy a gift for my lover." Hyunjin smiled fondly and you smiled back.

"That's sweet."

"Thank you. Your portrait." he said as you stood up.

"Oh, thanks for that again. Bye, Hyunjin." you said as you grabbed it.

"Bye, miss." he yelled behind you as you walked away.

-

Finally, you took Minho down to your basement. You put him in safe distance from all the chemicals as you got ready to begin your work.

Minho sat in the corner, his eyes twitching a few times as he stared at your skilful hands. You worked almost on autopilot as you have done this a hundred times, rinse and repeat.

It took a few hours but the man finally looked at peace, you had reconstructed his face as much as you could for an open casket, the embalming process taking up most of the time after that.

After putting the body away and cleaning everything up, your eyes fell to Minho and you friend's words rang inside your mind.

Maybe you could take a little peak inside him? You stood there contemplating, remembering that he did in fact bleed when you pricked him, so if you cut him it might be even messier. You didn't want to hurt him but as always, you were too curious for your own good.

Minutes later, your dolly was shirtless on your table, a scalpel in your hand. Never has your hand trembled but as you brought the blade closer to his skin, your fingers twitched ever so slightly. Your heart sped up as you took a deep breath, pressing the scalpel softly against the doll's skin.

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist, his eyes moving to look at you as you screamed, trying to step back but he held on tightly, taking a deep breath that sounded somewhat painful.

"Don't hurt me." he pleaded, his voice raspy as he took in shallow breaths.

You snatched your hand away, the scalpel clattering on the floor as your wide eyes took in the sight before you. Your dolly was alive.

"I always had this irrational fear that some day one of the dead bodies I was working on would wake up." you chuckled.

"I wasn't dead." he sat up slowly and you rushed to him, seeing he was dizzy.

"I know. You bled when I pricked your finger."

"By the way, that hurt." he gave you a look and you shrugged with a smirk.

"What about the part that came after it?" you asked breathlessly as Minho's eyes softened.

"That was more fun." he smirked, making you chuckle. "Can we go upstairs? The fumes are making me nauseous."

You helped Minho up, taking him to the kitchen where he drank four glasses of water quickly while you heated up dinner.

"So, you were aware of everything the entire time?" you asked and he nodded, his cheeks becoming rosy. "I figured as much. Something was fishy ever since you came here. I knew you were alive."

Shadow appeared in the kitchen, jumping up on Minho's lap immediately and he wrapped his arms around the cat, caressing her. She meowed and started purring as she pushed her head into his hand.

"She approved of you from day one."

"I'm glad she did."

"Here, eat and then we can talk." you said, as if this was the most normal thing ever.

-

"It's so nice to be able to move and be outside in the fresh air." Minho noted as the two of you decided to take a walk in the woods behind your house.

The woods were comforting always and even more beautiful now with all the autumn colors painting the leaves. It was a bit chilly but you dressed well, the fresh air was helping you clear your mind.

"I bet it is. So, what do you remember before being here with me?"

"I remember a lab. Tables like the ones in your basement, I remember I didn't look like this from the beginning. I also remember I could walk and move and talk before they put something inside us. We were plugged to something and suspended in water tanks. There was eight of us."

"Oh, I saw the others on the site! Do you remember them?"

"Yes, I do. We all had our cells before they put us in the tanks. Chan was made first. Then there was me, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and lastly Jeongin." Minho explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin?" you suddenly remembered the artist you ran into.

"Yes, he liked to paint."

"I saw him today!"

"You saw Hyunjin?" Minho's eyes widened. "Like this? Alive?"

"Yeah. Do you think the others are somewhere around here too?"

"Could be. I really miss them. We tried, y/n. We tried to fight the company but there were too many of them and we were kept in such a controlled enviroment. They kept injecting something with these big needles, it would make us sleepy."

"Do you remember anything before the lab?"

"As much as I dig around my mind, I only remember the lab."

"What do you mean, you didn't look like this the in the beginning?" you asked after a quiet moment of taking in everything Minho had told you.

"Well, I don't wanna gross you out with gory details." he said and you laughed.

"Honey, I'm a mortician."

"Right, you poke around dead people." he smiled teasingly.

"What a way to put it." you chuckled.

"Well. If you must know, they added skin later."

"Oh... Oh. So, I'm guessing maybe you're not human? Or at least, not entirely?" you said.

"I have no idea." Minho shrugged with a sigh.

Your hand brushed his as the leaves crunched under your feet.

You took hold of his hand, noticing his shy smile and rosy cheeks as your fingers entwined.

"We'll figure it out."

It's been about two weeks since Minho woke up and you had no idea your dolly would be so shy.

He avoided talking about what he was actually made for and never mentioned you using him for your pleasure multiple times. Minho enjoyed cooking for you and playing with your cat as much as he enjoyed watching you work and being the one to hold you during cold nights.

It was safe. It was comforting. You had found someone who was genuinely interested in what you do. Even when he was a little annoying, asking question after question like a curious child, his shiny eyes staring at you closely as he breathed in your personal space and kept asking stuff like 'What are you doing now?', 'What is that?', 'Why are you putting it there?'.

It was adorable as much as it was irritating, and you loved it.

Outside, it rained hard as you sat on your window bench, reading quietly while Minho sat on the sofa, cuddling with Shadow.

You gave him time to get used to everything, but you were feeling kind of impatient at the same time. Minho was observant, he learned all your little movements, the tone of your voice, what your sighs meant. He loved all the little details that made you you.

So, he stood up and made his way to you which got your attention, and you looked up from your book just in time as he stood in front of you.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and your eyes widened.

"Of course." you smiled then, your face heating up.

Minho sat down close to you, gently grabbing your book from your hands and putting it aside before he touched your face softly. He leaned in and you waited with bathed breath for his lips to collide with yours.

It wasn't what you expected, fireworks and passion, it was more gentle, more profound. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

"I'm sorry I made you wait. It's just, I'm scared that somehow I will go back to how I was before. And I don't want that to be in that... prison anymore. Being able to see and hear it all but being unable to react, it was terrifying and I still have nightmares about it." Minho confessed as you ran your hands through his soft hair.

"That's not gonna happen, okay?"

"How are you so sure that it won't?" Minho asked.

"Because... I love you and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." you said, Minho's lips trembled as he searched your eyes before a sweet smile spread on his lips.

"I love you too, my kitten." he smirked before leaning in, this time giving you a more passionate kiss.

It didn't take long for the kiss to escalate as Minho pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. Your hands tangled in his hair as his roamed your body, exploring your curves and dips like he had always wanted to.

He kneeled between your legs, his knee pressed against your core and you whimpered into his mouth as he smirked against yours.

"My sweet kitten, I've always wanted to take care of you." he looked at you, eyes darkened with lust as you gripped onto his strong arms, your hips moving on their own as you rubbed your clothed pussy against his knee.

"M-Minho." you whined, throwing your head back and his lips attached to your neck and collarbone, traveling down between your breasts as he left hungry kisses everywhere. His hands gripped your waist before sliding down to grab your ass and lift you up.

You squealed as he turned your body towards the window; the view outside was breathtaking, all the leaves twirling in the wind, the rain dragging them down and washing them away just as the sky darkened.

"Here?" you gasped and he chuckled.

"Everywhere." he whispered in your ear before lifting your little nightgown and revealing your lacy panties.

"Very sweet." Minho grabbed handfuls of your ass and you moaned, nails scratching at the bench you were just sitting on. His fingers slid on your folds, your arousal soaking through the lace as he kept touching you, giving you a few spanks with his other hand.

You moaned his name, pushing back into him, your body craving for more; you were so touch starved that you lost your mind immediately, melting into Minho and giving him total control over you.

He wanted you as much as you wanted him so he slid your panties down just enough to have access to your wet pussy as he slid his pants and boxers down at the same time.

"I promise I'll take it slow later. I just need to have you right now." he breathed out as you felt the tip of his hard cock press and slide against your folds.

"Take me, Minho, please!" you pushed back again and he spanked you quickly, making you whimper.

"Stay still, kitten." he purred as he slowly pushed in and the stretch was perfect, your pussy taking him in easily until he filled you up completely.

"You feel perfect around me." he groaned as he started moving slowly, his hands splayed on your ass as you pressed your forehead into one of the decorative pillows on your window, little gasps and moans escaping your lips.

"Ah!" you moaned loudly when he hit your spot, biting down on the pillow as Minho's hand tangled in your hair, lifting your head up slowly.

"Let me hear you, kitten." he said, fucking into you harder, the sounds of skin slapping skin making your ears warm up in embarrassment. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the window, seeing the expression on Minho's face sent shivers down your spine, your pussy clenching around his cock.

You let go and started moaning loudly, and the louder you got the faster he fucked into you.

"Just like that." he whined and you gasped, cumming around his length, making him more slippery and wet as he held onto you.

It only took a few more erratic thrusts before Minho exploded inside you, his warm cum filling you up deliciously and making you cum once more at the feeling of it.

"Oh." he gasped as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly for a few moments. You finally turned around, grabbing his face and giving him a sloppy wet kiss.

"I love you." you smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

"I love you. I'm glad I came to you." he whispered.

"Me too."

The two of you were cuddled up with Shadow under a blanket, watching a horror movie per Minho's request when your doorbell rang.

"That must be Emily." you stood up quickly and Minho looked at you with a panicked look in his eyes.

"You sure she won't freak out?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, she's literally seen everything with me." you chuckled as you went to open the door. Minho sat still on the couch, cuddling Shadow to calm his fast beating heart.

"Emily, I'd like you to meet someone." you pulled your best friend into the living room and she looked at Minho confusedly for a moment.

"Didn't we meet already?" she chuckled and Minho's lips fell open.

"She's not gonna faint is she?" he asked, making the both of you laugh.

"Not that I know of." Emily said with a shrug. "Look Minho, when you're friends with y/n for years, nothing really surprises you anymore. Plus, she told me in advance. Everything that happened and what you remember." she added as you served some tea for her.

"Minho sometimes has nightmares about the company." you added.

"Did you remember any more details?" Emily asked after taking a sip of tea.

"Not really. Just bits and pieces, it's more like feelings. Fear, dread, isolation. I especially hated when they experimented on us, the tables. I don't know what they did to us cause I couldn't move and look down but it hurt. The water tanks seemed to alleviate the pain though." Minho explained.

"Okay, now that is creepy." Emily said and you nodded.

"Did you manage to find anything on the site?" you asked her and she shook her head.

"I tried hacking it. It has top security on it, it's out of my skill range." Emily sighed. "I wish I could be of more help."

"Hey, you being here is enough for me." you grabbed her hand as she smiled.

"Oh, do you maybe know where the company is?" Emily suddenly remembered and Minho shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to think of the location.

"Ugh. I can't remember no matter how much I try. I don't remember traveling from there to your house." he looked at you.

"It's okay. We can try again another day." you said, caressing his back to calm him down.

It was all so suspicious and you were too interested in finding out more about where you dear dolly came from.

You were enjoying an afternoon nap when a loud clatter jolted you out of your dreams.

"What are you doing, Min?" you rubbed your eyes as you walked into the kitchen.

"Oh. I'm making dinner for us. It's been exactly five months since I came here so I wanted to do something special." he said, his cheeks rosy.

"Aw, you are so sweet." you melted instantly, making him chuckle shyly.

When you sat down to eat the delicious meal he prepared, you got to thinking.

You've never been so happy or felt so seen. Living with Minho, sharing the day and night with him came easy to you. Everything seemed more lively since he came into your life, even death became an afterthought when you spent time with Minho.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner." you smiled.

"Of course." he stood up and you followed quickly, almost knocking your chair down.

"Wait here a sec." you told him before running off to your room. If he had made an effort with the main course, you were going to make effort with the dessert.

Minho decided to tidy up as he waited for you, his heart beating hard in anticipation. While you were sleeping, he saw the lacy set you had put out in your closet earlier and he was so excited to see you in it... or take it off of you.

"Min, come here!" you yelled from the room once you were ready and Minho all but tripped over his feet, the carpet and Shadow who was lounging in her spot before he came to you, looking as cool as a cucumber. He leaned on the wall and smirked at you.

"What do you think?" you asked, giving him a little twirl. The lingerie you wore left nothing to imagination.

"I think you look stunning." he said, somewhat breathlessly as his face heated up.

"You gonna do something about it?" you taunted and he made his way to you, his eyes filling up with lust.

His hands landed on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you pressed your body as close as you could to his and his hands slid down to grab your ass.

You moaned into his mouth as he started massaging it, then giving it a few loving spanks.

"Fuck, let me take care of you, my love." you pushed him towards the night stand and Minho's eyes widened as you got down on your knees.

"Oh." he let out a quiet sound as you slid his pants and boxers down, not wanting to waste any more time. His cock was already hard and ready for you to play with and you were just too eager.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his length as you leaned in closer, giving a few kitten licks to his tip, collecting the drops of pre cum on your tongue.

Minho breathed in sharply, his hands grabbing at the night stand behind him. You smirked, swirling your tongue around the tip, occasionally dipping it into his slit and trying to tease him as much as you could.

"Kitten." Minho moaned quietly, his hand tangling in your hair as you started sucking on the tip gently.

You were sure you couldn't take all of him but you were even more sure you were going to try anyways, so you slid down, taking more of his length in and trying to get used to it.

"You look so beautiful right now." Minho smirked, gripping your hair and holding you against him tightly. You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body as you slid down more.

You bobbed your head up and down, wetting his cock with your spit and gagging around him multiple times and Minho couldn't help his desire as he slowly started to fuck into your warm mouth.

"Ah, y/n!" he groaned, accidentally pushing harder and making you gag. You slid off of him and he looked at you with panic in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his palm gentle against your cheek.

"No, I'm fine." you said, biting on your lip. "Just very needy right now."

"For what?" he smirked and you whined.

"You."

"Get on the bed, kitten." he said and you stood up immediately, lying down on the bed.

Minho climbed in after you, kneeling between your legs as he pushed your panties aside.

"This what you need?" he smirked, sliding the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

"Mm, yes." you moaned, already arching your back at the slightest touch.

"Hmm, I'm not convinced." he smirked.

"Please!" you whined desperately, making Minho chuckle.

"Okay." he said but you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and you knew he was going to tease you some more.

He pushed in just the tip, fucking you slowly with it.

"Ah, Min!" you whined as he kept smirking, giving you a minimal amount of stimulation.

Your eyes teared up in frustration as Minho kept fucking you only with the tip, your pussy clenching and begging for more.

"Please, please!" you cried.

"More?" he teased, pushing a bit more in and staying still.

"All of it."

"As you wish darling." he said before pushing all of his length in and fucking you slowly.

You moaned as you wrapped your arms and legs around him and Minho held you close as he kept rocking his hips into you.

You reached bliss together, wrapped up in each other, completely content.

"Wait." you giggled as Minho started getting up so he can get a cloth to clean you up.

"What?" he asked and you pulled him closer, patting his head gently.

"Oh." he giggled cutely before standing up and almost running off to the bathroom.

While you laid there waiting for him, your phone started ringing.

"Ugh." you groaned and rolled over to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Miss l/n?"

"Yes, this is she." you sat up, thinking it was someone calling for your funeral services.

"We are calling regarding our dolly collection. We understand you have purchased our dark doll, Minho." the cold voice on the other end said.

"Yes, I have."

"We regret to inform you that the collection will be pulled back from the public and we will be taking all the dolls back to our company due to a malfunction. You will get your refund of course. We will come pick the doll up tomorrow morning." they said right as Minho came in.

"Okay, thank you for calling." you said politely before finishing the call.

"Who was that?" Minho asked.

"It was your company, apparently they are taking all the dolls back to the lab due to a malfunction."

"What? Please, don't let them take me! I can't go back there!" Minho looked angry and scared instantly.

"Oh they can come here. But they won't find anything. I have a plan, my love." you smirked.

You were not about to let anyone take away your happiness.

The doorbell rang at 9am sharp and you took a deep breath before opening the door.

There were six men in black suits and emotionless faces standing there and looking at you.

"We've come to pick the doll up."

Suddenly, you hiccuped and started crying.

"He is gone! My dolly is gone! I woke up this morning and looked for him everywhere. But there is no trace of him. I-I put him in my bed like always but he disappeared!" you cried and the men exchanged a look.

"Mind if we take a look around?" one of them asked.

"Please, go ahead." you let them in and they started snooping around immediately. Shadow hissed at them, running away as soon as one of the men came anywhere near her.

They were definitely dangerous.

"W-what kind of malfunction happened to the dolls?" you asked, blowing your nose in a napkin.

"We aren't allowed to discuss that." they answered.

"What's downstairs?" one of them asked.

"My preparation room. This is a funeral home." you said and they gave you suspicious looks.

"Can we take a look there?"

"Of course." you nodded and opened the door.

Then men looked around as you followed them, still crying silently and hiccuping a few more times.

"Well, he is not here. Don't worry about it, miss. You will still get your refund and the doll will be found." they finally gave up after checking every nook and cranny, or so they thought.

"Okay, thank you for coming." you said as they left.

You waited for them to get into their van and drive away before you ran back downstairs.

"They left!" you quickly opened one of the caskets and Minho sat up, taking a deep breath in.

"Gosh, I almost suffocated. I could hear them walking around here, it was so scary." he said as you grabbed his face gently.

"But they didn't find you." you smiled.

"No, thanks to my genius lover." he smiled back at you as you leaned in to kiss him.

"What do we do now?" he asked when you parted.

"We wait to get the refund. And then we'll see what our next step will be."

"Are you sure they won't come looking for me here again?" Minho sighed.

"They can try. But I won't let them take you away from me. I promise."

Minho wrapped his arms around you tightly, putting all his trust into your hands.

You knew you were running a risk as long as you stayed here, but there were preparations needed to be done before you could get away.

And you wanted to make sure there was no trace left for the wrong people to find you.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0

[karemandohan1999]

365 days since the war in Gaza🇵🇸

One Year After the War in Gaza: A Never-Ending Nightmare

It has now been a year since the war on Gaza began, and yet the suffering continues. The people of Gaza are trapped in a relentless cycle of devastation, poverty, and despair. Homes, schools, and hospitals have been reduced to rubble. Families who once had a future now struggle to survive each day in unimaginable conditions. The lack of clean water, food, and electricity has turned daily life into a constant fight for survival.

The health system is on the verge of collapse, with few resources left to care for the countless injured and ill. Children, who should be growing up in safety, instead bear the scars of war—physically and emotionally. They go to sleep hungry and wake up to the sounds of bombs, if they can sleep at all.

My husband and I have lost many important people to us 👇👇👇👇

I am Kareman Dohan, a Palestinian mother and educator. Before the war, I taught young children, hoping to shape a better future for them. But that future was destroyed when my school was bombed, and I lost my job. My husband, Ayman Alwan, was a fisherman, but our boat—the only source of income we had—was shattered and lost to the sea.

The most heartbreaking part of our struggle is watching our son, Hamoud, suffer. He is just 17 months old, and due to the lack of food and access to clean water, he is now malnourished. No parent should have to witness their child in pain, hungry, and helpless. Every day feels like a fight for survival, with bombs constantly raining down on us. We live in fear, knowing that at any moment, our lives could end.

All we want is to escape this nightmare, to find a safe place where we can start over, but we simply do not have the means to do so. My son needs urgent care, proper nutrition, and a future where he can grow without the shadow of war hanging over him. We are trying with all our might, but the burden has become too heavy to carry alone.

I am pleading for your help, for your compassion, for your generosity. Any donation, any act of kindness, can give my family the hope we so desperately need. Your support could save us from despair, and we will be forever grateful.

Donate and share

Donation Link 👇

[fictionalmenmistress]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, so I wanted to share that Logan's rant monologue insulting Wade in the Honda Odyssey, before Wade decides to beat him up and they ~fight~ all night... that so clearly to me, was Logan projecting. It started as a tempered rant to cope with how annoyed and pent up he was, with the heat of everything and with Wade's muchness that makes him, him, but the longer he went on, the more he started ranting and exposing himself in the process.

"THE XMEN REJECTED YOU, AND THEY'LL TAKE FUCKING ANYONE!!!" That was my first hit, that he was referring to himself. He sees himself so lowly, so failed, that's canonical to the film. And canonically, he didn't even quite originally feel worthy or want to be with the XMEN. Didn't feel like there was a place for him there, a place for him anywhere. One of his biggest healings was Professor X not giving up on helping him believe that he deserved to be there, was wanted, was worthy, was a good guy. That's canon to his character. So we know he was speaking about himself. He was chewing Wade out, but he was also talking and focusing moreso on what upset him about himself. (He sees himself as just any jo shmo, when he IS literally THE X MAN ㅠㅠ)

He was seeing himself in Wade, how he "can't even save a relationship with a gd stripper", (he sees himself as not able to save anything either, and he's angry for that more than anything else he's angry or annoyed at) projecting SO HARD as he pieced together saying it out loud, that Wade was exactly like him. Logan hated himself for not saving anything. For being a "loser", a "failure", for all of the same reasons he was lashing out at Wade for. He was so angry and annoyed by Wade reminding him of himself, because he related to him. Wade was his reflection, in his eyes, calling him out so loudly with his own behaviors. And he hated himself. He deeply was suffering with that hatred for himself, and as a result, he lashed out on Wade when really he was chewing out himself, inside, admitting it.

"God's CRUELEST JOKE, IS THAT YOU *WONT* DIE ALONE. BECAUSE YOU! CANT! DIE! SO THE REST OF US HAVE TO SUFFER YOU THE REST OF OUR EXISTENCE!" (something along that.)

He didn't know for sure that Wade can't die. He picked up on that Wade can't be killed. Logan is the one who can't die. They are two flipped sides of the same immortal power coin. When he finished his screaming at him, and everyone was silent at how cruel and shocking the confrontation and his words were, I was sinking with a very empathetically whispered "oh, Logan..." Because I felt his misery. I immediately picked up on him really talking about himself, and I think that was genius and layered. I was upset for how awful that was to say to Wade, heartbroken for Wade taking that to heart, and I was heartbroken that Logan was saying that because he believes that about himself. Because they are, oddly, a lot alike. Very compatible.

This scene here:

I read that Hugh said that Ryan wrote that. He's brilliant with these films. It was so genius. I really needed to share this and bring this thought, meta, analysis to light. For all of us to have.

Is Logan mad at God's "cruel joke" of his immortality, yet ability to feel so much pain through it still? Yes. He punched the roof in rage, because it's not fair. Venting his own pain. He sees his powers, his own and Wade's too, empathetically, as their curse. The curse of being the one who lives, and the guilt with that. The one who can't die. The one who lives, who is forced to live, while everyone who "deserves to live" dies. And WILL die, around them.

"And You can't die. That's on all of US!" Logan says, clearly referring to himself living forever... And "us" being the people HE loved. He saw himself as a burden for existing with them, for them. He deflected that onto Wade, as if the people in Wade's life must feel that way too, but didn't really mean that. He meant it about himself. Logan believes he was a burden on the people he loves, the people he lost. That's probably why he left too, and didn't come back when they called out for him to. He distanced himself to protect them, and protect himself from that fear of rejection that he feels is so imminent, and them not having him, is the one element that led to none of them surviving without him. He was always the key. He was always wanted, and he was always important and needed. He just couldn't ever believe that.

Man, that's why it became so personal for Logan too, when he was shown Wade's photograph of his family. Because HE had a family, and he would do anything now to save them. Just like Wade. He held that photograph all night, he went and got it when it fell out of the car, he kept looking at it. It became personal for him, when he identified with it. That Honda scene really was their turning point of everything. That's when Logan cared with everything. He got it. Wade is the him he couldn't be. But now he can.

I dropped some heat with this one.

Extra little personal context/thought notes: Maybe I just spotted it because I have a natural knack for psychology, I'm hyperobservant, highly empathetic and deeply feeling, and I'm also years experienced of my parents and whole family treating me the same exact toxic lashout way almost every other day. That's a workweek for me to see through toxic lashout anger BS. These are not my gifs!!! They were created by another amazing account. I will refind their @ and tag them!! >>> It's @landoslastnerve ! Thank you friend! 🤍

Also wanted to include someone's tags from those gifs:

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[freyadragonlord]

Recently I’ve been thinking about the different types of love languages in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, The S-Classes That I Raised, and Lout of the Count’s Family…

Not to say that each of the stories describes only one single kind of love language; they are, after all, all novels that focus on Found Family, with many different types of relationships between characters that express their love for each other in as many different ways.

Yet, I’ve noticed how at the core of each of these three stories there is one specific act of love that recurs more than others, and that becomes the true Theme each novel revolves around.

In Lout of the Count’s Family, the main love language is providing food and a home.

“Home” is such an important concept in LCF that Cale collects houses like they were pokemon cards. The source of his trauma when he was a child as Kim Roksu was that he was not given sufficient food, and that where he lived was not truly a shelter where he could feel safe, just a place he was trapped in.

And I don’t think there are ever more than 2 chapters in a row without a character offering food to others, or asking if they’re hungry, if they’ve eaten, why haven’t you eaten, here have some apple pie!!

Cale uses his newfound money and power to make sure his loved ones are provided for. That’s how he adopts bonds with most of his new family.

The first thing Raon does after he’s freed from the prison he’s been trapped in all his life, is to leave food for this hopelessly weak human.

Choi Han, who has lived alone in a dangerous forest for decades, would do anything to protect his home.

The Crown Prince, who has been isolated and untrusting of everyone ever since his mother died, makes sure to always have cookies in his bedroom in case guests “break in” for a visit at any time of the day or the night.

I love you, you’ll never be hungry again. I love you, my home is your home.

In The S-Classes That I Raised, the main love language is words.

Yoojin’s powers are literally activated by telling people “I love you”. Because all he ever wanted was to say “I love you” to his brother one last time.

Because the tragedy that starts the story happens because Yoohyun loved and protected his hyung in secret for years. Silence creates misunderstandings, it creates distance, it leads to loss.

Loving someone isn’t enough, tell them! Reassure them. Remember what they say, because their words are important!!

Ever since the regression, Yoojin always let people know when he loves them and appreciates them. “You’re perfect, you’re cute, you’re so talented, you’re so handsome, you are loved.”

And as the novel progresses, whenever Yoojin is in pain, or doesn’t know what to do, he turns to Sung Hyunje because he needs to be reassured, he needs to know he did well, he needs to hear he is still important to the people he loves.

I love you, please know that I love you! I love you, please tell me you love me back.

And finally, in Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, the main love language is time.

Time is one of the greatest sources of horrors in ORV. Eternities upon eternities of suffering, being trapped for ages in the same, hopeless loop, wishing for everything to just stop.

And yet, time is also the greatest gift characters give to each other.

Because the wounds Dokja suffered as a child, and then again and again through his whole life…. They need time to heal. They need so much time. They will probably take forever.

So let them take forever.

Despite how much pain and worry he causes his companions by giving up on himself over and over again, his companions never give up on him. And he doesn’t understand why!! He doesn’t think he’s worth it. But it’s not his choice, it’s theirs. And they will go through as many tries, as much pain, as much time as it takes, before they can finally save him.

I love you, so I will wait fifty years for you. I love you, so I will live through thousands of lifetimes to find you. I love you, so I will read and reread your story for the rest of time, just to keep you alive.

[megaderping]

I feel like when people emphasize Akechi's murders, they often act like his motivation only boils down to "daddy issues" or they really make light of the impacts societal discrimination can have on a person. "But Futaba didn't end up like Akechi," I've seen people say, but the thing is, Akechi is meant to show the worst case scenario. Someone without anyone left to uplift him, to ground him, and to give him a reason to be better. Futaba had Sojiro, though that hardly justifies her mother's death, nor the horrible mistreatment from her relatives or what Shido put her through by framing Wakaba's death as a suicide. Futaba was in a very dark place, and she needed a helping hand. The Phantom Thieves saved her. But Akechi didn't have that helping hand when he needed it most. He lost his mother at a very young age, endured the foster system, never finding a new forever home, and at his absolute lowest point, was granted power he didn't understand with no one to guide him, and wanted to get close to Shido to one day backstab him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The murders came later, when Shido "instructed him." And given the way Shido yells at Akechi about what happens to people who cross him, and given what he did to Futaba (the men in suits), his cleaner, and how many people he had on his side, on top of Sojiro making it very clear how cutthroat Shido was to his enemies... Akechi was screwed no matter what. His face, his name, all of it could be used to ruin him in the real world. Alone, he would not have been enough to go through Shido's Palace, given how much trouble the Phantom Thieves had as a group. Plus, y'know, this:

Something so many people ignore when they talk about Akechi and his murders and ignore everything else the narrative tries to say about him.

What P5 tries to say about Akechi is so important to its core themes. That, if Akechi hadn't been a victim of so much injustice, he might have never gone to such lengths. That doesn't undo the damage he's done, but it's so important to understanding why the game approaches him with sympathy rather than writing him off as pure evil. Because it didn't have to be this way. If he had just met Joker sooner, if he had just had somebody. Akechi represents what can happen to vulnerable children who are failed by systems meant to uphold justice and other ideals, and how those who have nothing, who have only ever been hurt, are far more likely to lash out in turn. Persona 5 places so much importance on the suffering of children and the ways society needs to improve for the sake of children. That, I think, is one of the key reasons Akechi is framed as a victim. He is a warning, a cry to do better.

[multific]

In Sickness and In Health

Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Paul fears leaving you while you are sick.

Paul hated to leave you alone, especially since you haven't been feeling so well lately.

Paul knew he needed to go with his father, but he didn't want to.

"I will take care of her." his mother tried her best to reassure him, but Paul was worried.

The love of his life, his beautiful wife has been forced to bedrest for the last few days.

The doctors examined you and determined that you had a simple illness.

A simple one, yet you suffered greatly because of it.

You had a high fever, you could barely eat and sleep was a difficult task.

You were separated from Paul the second day of your illness, now, he was only allowed to visit you.

He was kind enough to bring you books or read you some of his own.

"You must go, Paul, your father expects you to."

"I do not care. I don't wish to leave you alone."

"I understand, but I will be fine, I do feel better already, so please, don't worry too much."

"My mother said she will visit you often," he said as his grip tightened around the book he was reading to you. "I still don't want to leave you." he promised to be by your side, in sickness and in health.

"I will be fine." you said with a smile. Your smile made him believe that it might be all fine after all.

Yet, his worry never left him.

The next day, he left with his father.

Lady Jessica kept her promise and visited as often as she could.

You even started conversations with her. And she did enjoy talking about Paul when he was young.

Then, she even mentioned her marriage, and how she wished you and Paul wouldn't have to face the same or similar difficulties.

The week soon passed, and you were much better as you awaited Paul's return.

And soon enough, you were told that he was landing.

You rushed over, by the time you got there Paul was already off the ship, making his way to you.

"Paul!" you smiled as you slowly jogged over to him, he fully started running.

You opened your arms and wrapped them around him as he lifted you off the ground. You giggled into his ear.

"I'm so happy to see you." he said. "You look so much better."

"Your mother gave me a special tea, it truly helped," you said as he finally put you down on the ground and kissed you.

"I missed you so much." he said and you laughed a little.

"I missed you, Paul."

Paul never felt so relieved in his entire life. He was worried about coming back, so when he saw you, full of life and smiles, running over to him, the weight from his shoulders just disappeared.

All his worries left his body in a matter of seconds.

He held onto you tight and strong, afraid to let you leave his sight as he watched your face, full of life, your eyes, filled with love as you looked at him.

Not even in his best dreams did he ever imagine coming back home and finding you like this.

He was forever grateful for his mother for healing you.

He made a vow to never leave your side ever again, and it is a promise Paul intends to keep for the rest of his life.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/