#and the world can always have more pieces of art exploring this

[dairy-farmer]

So I had an idea a while ago but didn't have anywhere to share. Honestly very happy to have found your blog and asks(very fun to read too).

Basically:

Tim has an artistic eye, he IS into photography afterall, which means he can look at, enjoy and find beautiful something most people consider sexual in a completely objective way. Specifically, the human body.

So just Tim wanting to start a personal project where he explores the inherent beauty of anatomy. But he needs models. Somehow he gets his brothers to model for him.

Maybe they had to fight arousal almost from the get go, naked in front of him with all his focus on them. Every ounce of his attention on one person at a time and making them feel not just appreciated and beautiful, but like they were the center of his world for that short time.

Or!

Or maybe there's nothing to it to them. Kid is putting a weird amount of focus on body parts not really all that important, like they'd get it if he was focusing on the parts of them generally considered attractive, but he's not? Go off I guess.

Then they see the final products. They don't know how he did it, but... they feel seen in a way the never knew was being neglected.

Damian sees his hands through Tims eyes. They were always just a tool to him, not all that special even if vital. But somehow Tim has captured them in a way that is powerful and strong, and beautiful and gentle. You can see a paint stain that Tim insisted he not wash off, his calluses from training and the muscles coiled under soft skin.

Jason sees his eyes. His eyes that have become more green since he came back, eyes that he avoided looking at in the mirror because they didn't feel like his anymore. Eyes that now look back at him in a way that were they anyone else's he'd say they look intelligent and empathetic. He sees his lashes in stark detail, beautiful and not pitch black, a few as stark white as the streak in his hair that he never noticed extended beyond that. The corner of a scar that doesn't look hideous, but beautiful.

Dick knows he's beautiful, has been told so many times it's become shallow. He knows which parts of him are lusted after. He expects to see something along those lines. Instead he sees his shoulders. Not as some sensual part of him to be objectified, but... as wide and strong, as load bearing and of steel. He knows he's beautiful, but he's never seen someone even try to look past that in a photo.

Tim took so many different photos of them, but his focus was on picking photos that capture their very essence to him.

So seeing themselves through his eyes? They fall and they fall HARD.

them seeing themselves through tim's eyes and seeing that he thinks of them as art, that he can see the little pieces that make them up. when tim talked about photographing them for some personal project because bruce had told him to get a hobby- they'd mostly laughed it off. they hadn't really been taking it all that seriously they'd just been mostly humoring tim.

but then they'd been in tim's little bedroom studio and tim had been arranging them and his warm hands moving them- adjust posture, cupping heads and hands and moving them a certain way.

tim sees them as pretty and wonderful he photographs them but doesn't make them obejcts he makes them people 🥺💖💖!

[azuresquirrel]

Saw The Boy and The Heron today and I will be thinking about it a lot, and I do generally recommend going in as unknowing as possible, but then again I sure did and sat in the theater at the first scene of the movie thinking "Jesus fucking christ, can I get a break"

[mystiika]

misc tag drop

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: What does your Future lover love about you?[+more deets] Old Hollywood Theme

Pick one of the above three. Left to Right 1->3

Introduction

This is a reading as to how you would appear to a Future Lover.This will take you into a timeline in which you are a person as described in the below piles. Your lovable characteristics and the characteristics as well as the personality traits of the one you will love are included here as well.

Pile 1

What They Love About You: Your future lover is absolutely head over heels for your creativity and unique perspective on life. They love how you see the world through an artistic lens, making even the mundane magical. Your ability to turn any situation into an adventure is something they can't get enough of. You bring color and excitement into their life, and they adore how you're always up for trying something new.

They secretly love it when you playfully tease them or challenge their opinions. Your quick wit and cheeky comebacks keep them on their toes and add a spark to your interactions. They enjoy the playful banter and how you can turn a simple disagreement into a flirty exchange.

You in this relationship:

Physical Characteristics: You have a vibrant and expressive style. Whether it’s your hair, your fashion, or the way you carry yourself, there’s always something unique and artistic about your appearance. Think bold colors, interesting accessories, and a confident posture.

Personality Traits: You’re adventurous, creative, and always up for trying something new. You bring an air of spontaneity and fun into every situation. People love being around you because you make even the most boring activities feel exciting and fresh. Your playful teasing and sharp wit keep conversations lively and engaging.

Future Lover:

Physical Characteristics: They might have a relaxed, yet stylish look. They prefer comfort but with a hint of creativity, maybe through a unique piece of jewelry or a quirky hairstyle. Their look is effortlessly cool, with an aura that draws people in.

Personality Traits: They’re laid-back and go with the flow, but they have a deep appreciation for art and creativity. They’re supportive of your adventurous spirit and often find themselves inspired by your ideas. They enjoy the playful banter and have a great sense of humor that complements yours. They’re the type who loves to explore new places and experiences with you, always ready for the next adventure.

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Pile 2

What They Love About You: Your future lover is totally in awe of your nurturing and compassionate nature. They love how you always make people feel seen and heard. Your empathy and ability to understand their feelings deeply make them feel incredibly connected to you. You're the person they can always count on for a comforting hug or a listening ear.

They find it endearing when you act a little spoiled and demand their attention. Whether it’s pouting when they’re not paying enough attention or playfully insisting on getting your way, they secretly love catering to your whims. It makes them feel needed and appreciated, and they enjoy spoiling you a bit.

You in this relationship:

Physical Characteristics: Your style is warm and inviting, with a focus on comfort and practicality. You prefer earthy tones and soft fabrics, creating a look that’s both approachable and stylish. Your smile and gentle demeanor make people feel at ease around you.

Personality Traits: You’re nurturing, empathetic, and deeply compassionate. You have a natural ability to make people feel cared for and understood. Your calming presence and willingness to listen make you a cherished friend and partner. You enjoy being spoiled a bit and aren’t afraid to show when you want some extra attention, but always in a sweet, endearing way.

Future Lover:

Physical Characteristics: They have a sturdy and reliable look, with a preference for classic and timeless fashion. Their style might be understated but always well-put-together. They exude a sense of stability and trustworthiness.

Personality Traits: They’re dependable, caring, and protective. They love to take care of you and make sure you’re happy and comfortable. They’re attentive to your needs and enjoy the role of being your rock. Your lover appreciates your nurturing side and finds joy in pampering you and making you feel special. They’re the type who loves quiet, intimate moments and deep, meaningful conversations.

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Pile 3

What They Love About You: Your future lover is captivated by your intelligence and sense of humor. They love how you can have deep, meaningful conversations one moment and be cracking jokes the next. Your ability to balance intellect with lightheartedness keeps them intrigued and always wanting more. They admire your curiosity and how you’re always learning something new.

They get a kick out of your playful stubbornness. When you dig your heels in over something silly or pretend to be grumpy just to get a reaction, they find it adorable. They enjoy the challenge of coaxing you out of your playful moods and love how it adds a fun dynamic to your relationship.

You in this relationship:

Physical Characteristics: Your look is a mix of smart and casual. You might be found in chic, tailored clothes that show off your intellect while still being comfortable. You pay attention to the details, like glasses that complement your face or a signature piece of jewelry.

Personality Traits: You’re intelligent, curious, and have a fantastic sense of humor. You can switch between deep, thought-provoking discussions and light-hearted, witty banter with ease. Your playful stubbornness adds a fun challenge to your interactions, making you even more irresistible.

Future Lover:

Physical Characteristics: They might have an academic or intellectual style, with a touch of casual comfort. Think smart casual outfits, perhaps with a book always nearby or an accessory that shows their interests. Their appearance is neat, but there’s always something that hints at their curious nature.

Personality Traits: They’re intellectually stimulating, with a sharp mind and a great sense of humor. They love engaging in deep conversations and are always up for a good debate. They find your playful stubbornness endearing and enjoy the dynamic it brings to your relationship. They’re constantly learning and growing, and they love sharing that journey with you. They’re supportive and appreciate your balance of intellect and humor, making your bond both deep and fun.

================================================================================================

[jupiterpilgrim]

Damage Control

Hyeju x Male Reader

word count: 12.8K

It's a very important day for her, and you couldn't care less.

The gallery is a monument to pretension. Pristine white walls, the kind that seem to say: if you don’t get it, that’s on you, with polished concrete floors, where every heel echoes like a hammer of self-doubt. The lights dangle from the ceiling at precise angles, spotlighting the photos with calculated exactness, but also highlighting the insecurities of the photographers pacing back and forth, trying to look more confident than they actually feel.

Hyeju, for example, is dressed in something that is clearly not part of her natural wardrobe. Normally, she’d be seen in practical clothes, loose coats, comfortable pants—something she could lose herself in while exploring the world through her camera. But tonight, oh, tonight she’s a woman wrestling with a dress that’s undeniably expensive and likely borrowed from a friend too rich to care. The dress is black, too tight in the wrong places, and shiny enough to make her feel like a piece of art—not the interesting kind. The heels are high, torturous, and with each step, Hyeju wonders if it wouldn’t be easier to take the photos lying on the floor, where, at least, she wouldn’t have to balance like a drunken acrobat.

Her hair, normally loose and wild, has been tamed into an elegant updo, something that seems more like a modern art attempt than a style choice. She feels as if she’s disguised as someone who knows what they’re doing, an impostor among the real artists—or at least those confident enough to pretend.

And yet, as she catches her reflection in the gallery’s display cases, she tries to convince herself she’s worthy. After all, her series is hanging on the walls, among the others, and maybe, just maybe, that means she belongs here, dress or no dress.

But deep down, all Hyeju can think is: this is too much champagne and too many heels for someone who just wants to be a photographer.

—

She’s standing in the corner, beside her exhibit, her fourth glass of champagne disappearing in nervous sips. She watches the movement around her, but her mind is too occupied to register any useful details. The selection hasn’t started yet, and the photographer, the main critic of the night, is running late. Of course he is.

Important people always are.

Hyeju aspires to be among the top five winners of the contest. The prize? Well, merely having her work published in one of the world's most renowned photography magazines, plus a special tour with her essay showcased in various galleries worldwide; the doors this contest could open for her are endless. And what makes things even more thrilling is that she genuinely believes she has a chance this time. Five people out of twenty will be chosen. She'll be one of them.

But...

Before basking in the glamour, however, she must face evaluation by a judge with an unknown temperament. Still, she's confident that anyone with an ounce of sense will recognize the exceptional quality of her work, transcending subjective interpretations.

She turns to her photos on the wall. The series, the work that might define her career, is there, fixed and unchanging, awaiting the unforgiving judgment of a room full of pretentious people. The black-and-white images of dockworkers—strong arms, faces weathered by salt and years of invisible labor, staring down containers that don’t ask questions. The world’s transience captured there, with cranes bearing the weight of global needs as if countries exchanged desires with the clasp of metallic hands. Each container holds a secret, a demand from the other side of the ocean, and the workers, small figures in the photos, turn the wheels of the world unnoticed.

Hyeju tries to find flaws. Maybe the lighting in this shot is too strong, or perhaps the framing is slightly off. Or maybe...

No, maybe it’s just the champagne.

“Excuse me,” a female voice interrupts, pulling her out of her self-deprecating thoughts. It’s a young woman, likely an assistant, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, with the programmed friendliness of someone who’s delivered the same news dozens of times today: “The selection is about to begin.”

Hyeju mutters something that could be a “thank you” and tries to steady her breathing, handing her champagne glass to a passing waiter with such force she nearly topples the tray. Each contestant will get their five minutes of attention. She surveys the other exhibits—some incredibly well-composed, others almost amateurish. She might have a chance, maybe, if the stars align and the critic isn’t a complete jerk—or worse, utterly pretentious.

Time passes.

Then, suddenly, the group appears. Journalists and other professionals in similar fields, all carrying that aura of critical wisdom. The same assistant from before is in front, efficiently guiding the flock. Hyeju sees them approaching her wall, and her mouth instantly goes dry. The assistant begins explaining the series’ theme. “The port as a hand reaching across the ocean…”

Hyeju smiles at everyone, trying to appear friendly, interesting, accessible. She barely hears the words, lost in growing nerves. But then… she sees him. The last person in the group, hanging slightly behind the others. An unreadable expression, with a gaze that seems to measure the worth of everything in the room��including her.

It’s you.

She trembles slightly as she shakes your hand, and the moment your fingers touch: Hyeju knows. It’s you the critic.

Great. Of course, it’s you.

But would you… nah, impossible. Completely impossible.

It was years ago.

Hyeju wasn’t anyone in the photography world then.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” you say, in a gentle yet distant tone, almost too professional.

“Nice to meet you too, I am Hyeju,” she replies, trying to sound steady, but her voice falters slightly at the end.

"Yeah, I know."

You’re there, standing before Hyeju’s photos, pacing like an inspector evaluating construction work—only here, what’s being judged isn’t a building but someone’s soul. Each photo on the wall seems to scream in silence, as if trying to convince you of its importance, of its worth.

But you’re in no hurry.

You never are.

The first photo shows a gigantic crane, its mechanical arm hovering over containers like a titan ready to devour the world. The overcast sky in the background gives a sense of melancholy, of an industrial late afternoon, and there’s something intriguing in the way the black-and-white contrasts highlight the weight of the scene. Not bad.

You take two more steps, looking at the next image: a worker, face covered in sweat, calloused hands gripping a rope. The detail in his face is impressive, each worry line drawn with precision. The guy looks like he’s contemplating every economic crisis of the last century all at once.

Points for drama.

And then, of course, Hyeju tries to make small talk. Like they all do. As if conversation could save a photo that can’t defend itself.

“I chose black and white because I think it brings a kind of… timelessness, you know? Something that transcends the digital era we live in. Color can sometimes distract from the real meaning. I wanted the shadows to be… the main narrative.”

“Hmm.” You don’t look up, your eyes fixed on a third photo, an aerial shot of the port. The docks, packed with stacked containers, resemble a game of Tetris gone incredibly wrong. Thousands of boxes, ready to carry the anxieties of an entire world. “Transcendence, huh?... Got it.”

She watches you, uneasy, as you use your iPad, seemingly indifferent to her tense existence. Hyeju has that glimmer in her eyes all young artists have—a mixture of desperation to be seen and the faint arrogance of someone who thinks they’ve discovered something others missed. You’ve seen it so many times you could give lectures on the subject.

She continues nervously. “I know your work, by the way. I really admire your series, especially the one you did on the desert. The way you capture emptiness…”

“Oh, really?” Another note on the iPad.

“Yes! Actually, it was one of the biggest inspirations for this project. The way you captured emptiness, solitude… it was, honestly, brilliant.”

You finally look up, but not at her. At another photo. “Interesting.”

Hyeju clings to the chance to extend the conversation, like someone fallen overboard reaching for a piece of driftwood. “I really admire how you can convey so much with so little. I mean, the desert is literally… nothing. And yet, you make emptiness feel full of meaning. I tried to do something similar with the port, you know? A place of transition, of constant flux, but full of invisible stories.”

“Hmm.” Another silence. You step back, observing the photos with a clinical eye, as if trying to determine if the thread holding the world together is hidden somewhere within them.

“That’s why I wanted to focus on the workers,” she continues, clearly desperate to keep the contact. “They’re like… the gears no one sees. Without them, nothing would work. They move the world, but they’re always in the shadows.”

“Yes, yes, shadows. Fascinating.” You type something more into the iPad, your fingers moving across the screen as if her words carried tons and you were determined to move them quickly. “It’s interesting how black and white can create this illusion of depth. Or it can simply look… dated."

She blinks. “Dated?”

“Hmm, yes. Depending on the intent, of course.” Your eyes are back on the iPad. “But many photographers turn to black and white when they want things to seem deeper than they are. You know, to give that air of seriousness. It doesn’t always work.”

Hyeju laughs nervously. “Yeah, of course. I wanted it to have that seriousness, but also… you know, without being pretentious.”

“And isn’t that everyone’s aim?”

And that’s it. A rhetorical question that falls like a stone into a quiet pond. Hyeju looks at you, hoping for a more elaborate reaction, some sign that you really grasped the depth she wanted to convey, but all you offer is silence as you study the final images of her series.

Finally, you turn to the assistant. “Shall we?” you ask with the calm of someone who’s already made up their mind long before the end of the exhibit.

She gives a brief nod, confirming. "Yes. Let's move on to the next exhibits."

You pause, and then, as if it were just a minor detail, add, "Afterward, I'll speak with you privately, Miss Hyeju."

The group begins to move, but Hyeju lingers, feeling as though she's been left hanging, your words hovering in the air without resolution. She watches you walk away, the iPad still in your hand, typing something that could very well determine the fate of her work. But what unsettles her most is the way you treated her, and something about your distant posture makes her wonder if you know anything.

—

The gallery is noisier now. Artists, finally free from the duty of guarding their works, gather in small groups, praising each other with enthusiasm that ranges from genuine to visibly forced. Glasses of champagne are raised in toasts barely disguised as self-affirmations, and the hum of voices fills the space, echoing off the high ceiling.

Hyeju, however, doesn’t join in. She remains near the wall, watching from a distance as you, surrounded by journalists, finish evaluating the last of the exhibits. Her hands are clasped tightly, nervousness etched into each small movement. Her eyes track your every motion, trying to read the verdict that awaits.

From afar, she witnesses the first decisive moment. An older photographer, whose work felt like an ode to glorified boredom, receives a hug from you, smiling with a relief that only someone who’s faced countless failures can mask. Further ahead, a young woman with an eccentric look shakes your hand, her eyes sparkling with joy.

But not everyone is so fortunate. Some walk away from you with mixed expressions, caught between polite disappointment and the certainty that their work simply wasn’t understood. The more courteous ones offer faint smiles—the kind that are more social reflex than genuine feeling. Hyeju recognizes the tension even from afar. But when you finally start walking toward her, the anticipation becomes suffocating. Each of your steps seems to echo across the gallery like a solemn march, and Hyeju feels time slowing down.

You stop in front of her, a slight, formal smile on your face. It’s a smile she’s seen so many times that night it might as well be part of your uniform.

"Hyeju." Your voice is soft, almost cordial. "I liked your theme."

The words strike like an electric shock. For a moment, her world comes into focus. She smiles, surprised and, for a second, relieved. Maybe all that anxiety was for nothing.

"Thank you," she says, her voice trembling with barely-contained emotion.

You tilt your head slightly, as if acknowledging a job well done. But then, you continue, in that calm tone that only serves to prepare the ground for the fall. "However, I have to be honest... As I said, the theme you chose is already dated."

The word dated hangs in the air for a few seconds, like a blade poised to drop. Hyeju's smile falters.

"What do you mean... dated?" she asks, hope clearly trying to cling to something.

"Well, the port, the workers, industrialization... this idea was novel and revolutionary, let’s say, in the days of... the industrial revolution." You pause, looking at the photos on the wall as if re-evaluating the work for a moment. "Today, it doesn’t impact the audience the same way. It’s almost like you’re trying to remind us of something we all already know. In other words, the obvious."

Hyeju swallows hard, her mind beginning to race faster than she can handle. "But the point was precisely to show how these things are invisible today. People ignore what goes on behind the goods they consume, as if everything just magically appears on store shelves and—"

You raise a hand, cutting her off politely. "Of course, of course. But the problem is, in trying to revive this concept, you end up reaffirming what's already established. There’s no novelty, you see? The port as a symbol of global flow… it’s been debated to exhaustion. The challenge is finding a new perspective on the obvious, and, unfortunately, your exhibit got stuck in trying to remind the audience of something they’re already tired of hearing."

Hyeju blinks, stunned. "But… the black and white, the aesthetic I used… I wanted to convey a sense of timelessness, as if these figures were almost ghosts, invisibly moving the world…”

"Yes, timelessness." You nod, and the formal smile reappears, almost paternalistic. "The problem is, timelessness can also look like unintentional nostalgia. And, in the end, the modern audience wants something that speaks to the present, something that challenges them. We can’t just revisit the past expecting the same impact."

She tries, desperately, to find a loophole. "But… and the contrast? The shadows, the workers… I wanted it to be a reflection of the gears that drive the world, even today. Isn’t that relevant?"

You sigh, a bit more impatient now. "Look, the concept is good. I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s just that your execution felt… too predictable. Of course, you have a very competent technical eye, and your photos are good, but it lacks that element of… surprise, of innovation." You look at her directly, your patience waning. "It’s the kind of work we’ve seen many times before, understand?"

"But I can improve!" Hyeju insists, her voice a little louder than she intended. She seems on the brink of collapse, trying to cling to what little hope remains. "I know I can. If you’d just give me a chance to revise—"

"Look, Hyeju," you interrupt her, this time with a slightly firmer tone, tired of the discussion. "I really appreciate your passion. That’s great. But the decision has been made. Try again next year. Maybe with a different perspective."

There’s a long pause. Hyeju looks at you as if waiting for you to reveal that this was all an elaborate joke, that she’d actually won. But you say nothing of the sort. You simply extend your hand, ending the conversation with a smile that seems to say you did your best, but it wasn’t enough.

She shakes your hand, her grip firm, masking what she feels inside. As you walk away toward the next artist, Hyeju stands there alone, trying to grasp how, even with all her effort, it all ended like this: dated, predictable, insufficient.

But soon, that feeling of disbelief gives way to a growing rage, building in her chest like a volcano ready to erupt. Heat rises up her throat, making her face flush with anger, her hands clenched so tight her nails are nearly digging into her skin. Months of her life dedicated to that project. Endless visits to the port, earning the workers' trust, listening to their real stories, their calloused hands more genuine than any pretty, empty magazine spread. And now? Thrown in the trash. All because her theme was dated?

She’s not going to accept this. She can’t.

You’re heading toward Miyeon’s exhibit, and Hyeju, still fuming, decides to follow you. She already knows Miyeon is a fraud; the rich girl who travels the world and thinks snapping photos with her luxury camera is some kind of artistic statement. Pathetic. Hyeju’s sure you’ll see through it too. So, she waits, hides behind a column, and listens, her body still trembling with anger but with a hint of expectation. You’re going to tear her down too; it can’t be any other way.

"Miyeon, I really liked your theme."

Hyeju barely holds back a bitter laugh. Of course, liked the theme. You say that to everyone; it’s the prelude before you destroy them. She crosses her arms, waiting for the blow.

You continue, your voice sounding... more animated? Lighter?

"The flowers in the urban landscape, this attempt to create small pockets of nature in a space dominated by concrete, by modern life… it’s a powerful metaphor."

Hyeju raises an eyebrow. Powerful metaphor? Flowers?

Miyeon, always with that doll-like expression, smiles as if she’s about to receive a cherished jewel. "Oh, thank you! I wanted to show how, even in places where everything seems artificial, nature still finds a way to exist, to bloom."

"Yes, yes!" you respond, your voice clearly animated. "The idea that these flowers represent a little hope, a breath of life amidst the chaos of cities… it’s really touching. The audience is going to connect deeply with this vision; you managed to bring a softness that contrasts with the brutality of the environment."

Hyeju feels her stomach twist. She can’t believe what she’s hearing.

You go on, pointing to one of Miyeon’s photos: a lone flower growing from a crack in the pavement in Paris. "Look, here. This flower shouldn’t even exist, and yet, there it is, asserting its presence against all odds. It’s an image of resilience."

Miyeon sighs, almost enchanted by her own work. "Yeah, exactly! I wanted each photo to feel like... renewal, you know? That nature, no matter how small, always finds a way."

Hyeju, squirming behind the column, almost laughs. "Renewal?" Miyeon must have just passed by and thought, "Oh, this flower is cute, I’ll take a picture," without understanding anything about what it means to fight for something

But what disgusts her most is your next comment. “You did a wonderful job, Miyeon. Your photos truly captured that sensitivity. It’s one of the most unique approaches I’ve seen in this contest.”

Miyeon lights up like a Christmas tree. “Wow, I don’t even know what to say!”

And then, the bombshell.

“Well, I’m telling you—you’re one of the winners.”

Hyeju nearly chokes on air.

She… won? Idiotic flowers won?

Miyeon, of course, explodes with joy, throwing her arms around you like you just handed her the universe’s biggest gift. “Oh my God! Really? That’s incredible! Thank you so much!”

“You deserve it, Miyeon. I was really moved by how you found beauty in those small moments. And, you know,” you lower your voice, almost… casually, “I’d like to learn more about your creative process. What do you say to dinner tomorrow to celebrate your victory?”

Miyeon blinks, clearly charmed. “Oh, I’d love to! Wow, that would be amazing. You know, I’ve always wanted to learn more about what inspires you. Your work is so… deep.”

You smile, looking perfectly at ease. “Well, I try. And I must say, you look fantastic today. That outfit… elegant, yet simple. Really suits your style.”

Miyeon blushes slightly but takes the compliment easily. “Thank you! And, ah… you’re even more charming in person.”

Behind the pillar, Hyeju feels her pulse pounding. Each word feels like a slow, cruel stab. She was sure her defeat was already a massive injustice, but this… this is outrageous.

You keep chatting with Miyeon, now totally at ease, a brutal contrast to the coldness you offered Hyeju. She realizes, in that moment, what really happened here. He's a perverted son of a bitch. And Miyeon, with all her art girl pretense, is just another pretty fish he wants to hook and take to bed.

She can barely breathe, her anger suffocating.

Miyeon leaves, already brimming with plans for the dinner, and you follow, smiling just as brightly. Hyeju, however, takes a deep breath, trying to rein in the overwhelming fury overtaking her.

—

Hyeju looks at herself in the mirror, her reflection blurred by tears dragging away any dignity her makeup still held. The flawless eyeliner she spent so long perfecting now looks like a bad abstract painting. She dabs a tissue over her face, trying to erase the tear stains, but only makes it worse, smudging everything. Frustrated, she mutters to herself, too lost in her own ruin to notice the bathroom door opening.

She freezes, turning her back, trying to gather what little composure she has left.

“Oh, Hyeju! Hey, isn’t today amazing?”

Miyeon, of course.

Her sweet voice floats through the restroom like a sickeningly sweet perfume. Hyeju mumbles something unintelligible, anything to mask the sensation of being shattered.

Miyeon, radiant as always, places her bag and phone on the counter before going into one of the stalls. The metallic sound of the lock echoes louder than it should, which could mean something symbolic if this were a movie. Hyeju takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and walks over to the trash to throw away the stained tissue.

And then, she sees it.

Miyeon’s phone screen is unlocked, and Hyeju, despite herself, feels her gaze drawn to it like a magnet. Curiosity is a treacherous thing. She takes a step, then another. Just a little peek. She’s not really invading privacy, just… checking something that was already open.

And there you are. Your name at the top of her Instagram chat, with a thread of messages that makes Hyeju want to vomit in pure disgust. A time, an expensive restaurant, the promise of a dinner to celebrate Miyeon’s “big win.”

The stall flushes like an alarm. Hyeju jumps back, quickly distancing herself from the phone. She pulls herself together, struggling to control the torrent of emotions as Miyeon emerges.

The human doll opens the door with a casual smile, washing her hands while tossing compliments into the air. “Your photos, Hyeju, were so beautiful. Really, you captured the essence of the port workers in a way that was very… how should I say… real.”

Hyeju simply nods. “By the way, congratulations on your win, Miyeon. You deserved it.”

Miyeon dries her hands and finally looks at her, noticing Hyeju’s devastated state. The swollen eyes, the makeup entirely ruined. She tilts her head slightly, in an almost childlike gesture, and asks, “What happened? Are you… okay?”

Hyeju takes a deep breath, trying not to sound like she’s on the verge of a total breakdown. “It’s… nothing. Just… frustration, I think.”

Miyeon’s expression softens, as if dealing with a wounded child. “Oh, you’re sad you didn’t win, huh? I get it, it’s hard. But don’t be like that. There are so many opportunities left to show your talent.”

Hyeju wants to roll her eyes but holds back. Opportunities? This coming from Miyeon sounds like a bad joke. But before she can respond, Miyeon, ever helpful, opens her purse and pulls out a makeup kit. “Here, let me fix that for you.”

Before Hyeju can protest, Miyeon is already holding a brush, touching up the mascara smudges with efficiency that only irritates her more. “You’re so talented, you know? Your work has a depth that few have. Just need a little more luck, maybe? It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

Miyeon’s sweet, condescending tone feels like a silent scream to Hyeju. She can hear the fake sympathy behind the words, the barely hidden superiority of someone who’s never had to struggle for anything. Every brushstroke is a painful reminder of how absurdly far she is from Miyeon’s privileged world.

“All done,” Miyeon says, stepping back to admire her work. Hyeju looks at herself in the mirror. There she is, a sad, generic version of Miyeon. Even with the makeup fixed, she’s still just a shadow. “Looks better, right?”

Hyeju mumbles a “thank you,” but something in Miyeon’s sweet tone makes her want to scream.

Miyeon smiles, satisfied, and puts the kit back in her bag. “Well, see you around, okay? Don’t get discouraged, all right? You’ll get there.”

With a wave goodbye, Miyeon floats out of the restroom like she’s on a cloud.

Hyeju stands there, staring at the mirror. The makeup is flawless, but she doesn’t recognize herself. Only one thought passes through her mind in that moment as the heat of her rage boils beneath the surface:

This isn’t over.

—

Hyeju sits at an outdoor table, the evening breeze ruffling the menu in her hands. The restaurant, one of those gourmet traps with plates priced higher than any decent meal should be, offers a spectacular view of the city, the urban lights twinkling below like stars trapped in concrete. Exactly the type of place you’d choose to impress a girl like Miyeon. She’s not there to eat, of course, but she orders a glass of wine, something to keep up appearances.

Time passes slowly, and Hyeju watches as Miyeon arrives. She sits nearby, but with her back to Hyeju, making the plan even easier. Hyeju can barely contain a smile as she hides behind the menu, her eyes keenly watching the pampered, spoiled girl’s every move. Miyeon makes a quick call—obviously to you.

“Oh, of course, always late,” Miyeon sighs, her melodic voice tinged with slight annoyance. “It’s fine, I’ll wait for you. I’m at one of the outdoor tables, remember?”

Hyeju wonders if the lateness is part of the charm, like a cheap trick to make a grand entrance. Always the diva. She sighs. Nothing worth having ever shows up on time.

Miyeon continues to scroll on her phone, seemingly indifferent to the world around her, but Hyeju is on high alert. She lowers the menu just enough to peek, keeping herself discreetly hidden, especially now that a couple sits nearby, offering a bit more cover. She flinches as she hears your voice in the distance.

Finally, you arrive.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say with a smile that should be banned for public safety. And then, of course, a kiss on the cheek. A casual gesture, but enough to make Hyeju’s blood rise. “You know I’m naturally unpunctual,” you add, sitting down with the confidence of someone who’s sure the world revolves around them.

“Yeah, but I’m getting used to it,” Miyeon replies with a light laugh.

—

The conversation flows with a lightness that almost makes Hyeju shrink with discomfort. The two of you laugh at silly jokes, and the flirting... the flirting is ridiculously cringeworthy from a third-person perspective.

She also concluded that what you and Miyeon had for dinner was bad and ridiculously expensive (even without any real evidence).

"So," you say after a few glasses of wine, "I was really impressed with your work, Miyeon. It has a rare sensitivity, you know? The way you captured the delicacy of flowers in the urban environment... so poetic."

The only thing poetic about Miyeon is her endless privilege, which she doesn’t even know she has. Hyeju discreetly takes out her phone, pretending to be uninterested but already positioning the camera.

“Oh, thank you!” Miyeon replies, blushing in a way that seems rehearsed. “I really wanted someone to understand that, you know? You really summed up the essence of what I wanted to convey.”

Captured the essence… Hyeju practically screams internally. If that photo series had any more essence, it would become a perfume. She tilts her phone to a better angle and starts snapping discreet photos. Tiny clicks that get lost in the hum of the restaurant.

The two of you order dinner and keep talking, each word a dagger to Hyeju’s pride.

"By the way, you look stunning tonight," you say casually, and Miyeon smiles, lowering her gaze like a princess in a cheap fairy tale.

"Oh, thank you! And I have to say, you're so handsome. Well, I already knew because of the photos and interviews of yours that I watched, but when I saw you in person yesterday, wow..." Miyeon responds, throwing back the compliment like a golden frisbee.

Meanwhile, Hyeju continues to document it all, like a private investigator who decided ethics are optional. Every shared smile, every tilt of the body, every not-so-innocent wink. She watches the story unfold before her, barely containing her disgust.

This will be beautiful.

—

The night goes on with you and Miyeon in a dialogue that, to Hyeju, might as well be nails scraping a chalkboard. Sitting at a distance, she keeps her eyes on you, wondering for the thousandth time how the universe could be so cruel. It’s not like she wants to be in Miyeon’s place—of course not—but if you had to hit on someone, it could’ve at least been her.

At least her work was good.

"So, what's the secret?" you ask with a charming smile, leaning forward slightly, your voice low and intimate. "How does someone like you, so young and talented, manage to capture these... hmm... deep layers of meaning in your photos?"

Miyeon giggles, a sound that reminds Hyeju of coins clinking in a deep well. "Oh, you're flattering me! I don’t know if it’s all that. I just... observe the world, you know? Try to see what no one else sees." She gives a small sigh of exaggerated modesty, which makes Hyeju roll her eyes. What no one else sees? Is she kidding? Flowers on the streets? Everyone sees that.

Literally everyone.

You don’t back down, your attention fixed on every word from Miyeon as if she were the center of the world. “Humility... I love that in an artist. So many people out there are just pretentious. I already knew you were special just from looking at your photos, but now… well, I can see you’re as impressive as your work.”

Impressive? Hyeju nearly chokes on her wine, forcing herself to keep a neutral expression.

You’re practically drooling over Miyeon.

"Oh, you're very kind," Miyeon replies, blushing again. "I... I just try to do my part, you know? Show the world the beauty that's hidden. That people forget to notice. And I have to say, having your recognition is... well, it’s rewarding."

You smile and, without missing a beat, reach over to touch her arm lightly. "You know, Miyeon, I have to be honest... when I saw your work, I felt something I rarely feel. Like the photos were speaking to me, saying something I didn’t know I needed to hear."

Hyeju squirms in her seat. Speaking to you? About what exactly? 'Buy a flower vase'? 'Do urban gardening'?

Her work had explored the depth of human transience and the flow of life, while you let yourself be captivated by flowers and a rehearsed smile.

She bites her lip, growing anger as she thinks: If you had to pick a contestant to hook up with, you could at least have chosen someone with a decent series. Like mine. At least it would look like a fair and professional decision. Am I not attractive enough? Or maybe I just don’t have that... doll-like quality you seem to like?

You lean over the table again. “You know, Miyeon, I have to admit... I don’t usually feel this way at professional events. Honestly, I think I’ve lost patience with a lot of pretentious photographers. But you... you’re different.”

Miyeon pretends to be modest, covering her mouth with her hand as if she’s shy. “Oh, I just do what I love. Maybe that’s what makes me... different.”

Hyeju narrows her eyes. Different? Only if we’re talking about her bank account.

"Well," you continue, your tone softer, as if you were just chatting with a close friend. "I don’t know... there’s something about you. Your lightness. The way you see the world, through the lens and, of course, in person." You smile, clearly implying something deeper. "I’d love to see more of that."

Miyeon smiles sweetly, as if she doesn’t understand the double meaning that anyone within ten feet could catch. "I’d love to show you more of my work. I think there’s a lot we could share, not just as artists but as people."

Oh, wonderful, Hyeju thinks, holding her phone strategically, ready to capture the perfect moment. She almost feels her camera in her hands again, anger sharpening her focus in a twisted way. She wonders again why you chose Miyeon. What does she have that I don’t? Does this fool just like girls who look like dolls? Or is he afraid of a woman who won’t fall for this fake charm?

"This is perfect, Miyeon," you say, your voice sweet enough to sugar-coat a lemon. "By the way, I was thinking... we could continue this evening somewhere a bit more... peaceful." You lean a bit more over the table, your fingers sliding casually along the rim of her wine glass. "My hotel has an amazing view of the city at night. It would be a crime not to enjoy it."

Miyeon giggles, and Hyeju feels it’s the kind of giggle only someone completely clueless could give. “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? But... I have to go to that birthday party afterward,” she says, making that practiced pout again, like she’s breaking the heart of a poor little puppy. “From that friend of mine, remember? It’d be rude not to show up. I need to be there in less than an hour.”

“Oh, such a shame... I thought there’d be time...” Your tone is so forcedly disappointed that it almost sounds ironic. “You know, I’m leaving tomorrow. Who knows when we’ll get another chance to... enjoy the moment. It would be a pity to waste this night.”

Miyeon holds your hand with almost unbearable sweetness, leaning a little closer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says, her eyes shining like she’s just made a solemn promise. “We’ll see each other again, for sure. And next time, no parties to interrupt.”

"I’ll hold you to that promise."

“You can count on it.”

Hyeju, until then lost in her thoughts of revolt and frustration, almost misses the moment. No way… Are they leaning in for a kiss? Her phone camera is already ready, and Hyeju quickly adjusts the focus. She almost fumbles but, at the last second, manages to capture the exact moment your lips meet. Bingo.

The kiss is brief, almost innocent, but enough for Hyeju to get what she needed. The final nail in the coffin of your reputation, or at least that’s what she hopes. She feels a wave of cold triumph wash over her. Now she had proof. Proof that you chose Miyeon not for her art, not for photographic genius (which was absurd enough), but simply because you were interested in her for... less artistic reasons, to say the least.

Miyeon pulls back with a rehearsed smile. “So we stay in touch?” she asks, already turning her attention back to her phone as if nothing important had happened.

“Yeah, sure. See you, Miyeon,” you say, your tone warm, but with a barely concealed note of frustration. “And I hope it’s soon.”

"Bye honey, thanks for this wonderful night."

Miyeon gets up, grabs her purse, tosses her hair back, and leaves the restaurant as if she’s walking off a runway. Hyeju watches her every step, feeling a strange mix of disdain and envy.

And there you are, still seated, momentarily lost in the direction Miyeon went, until you eventually come back to reality, calling a waiter to ask for the bill. And Hyeju, in that moment, knows she has the perfect weapon in her hands. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Revenge won’t just be sweet... it’ll be public.

You swipe your credit card, and as you wait for the receipt, your gaze lands on something interesting. Comical, really. There, sitting near you, hidden between two tables, is a woman trying to cover her face with the menu—a move worthy of someone trying to blend in like a plant in the middle of a desert. A mysterious woman, let’s call her that. You remember seeing her when you arrived; she’s been sitting there for quite a while without ordering anything, judging by the pristine table. You chuckle softly, intrigued by this peculiar figure.

Who acts like they're in a comedy film?

Maybe it’s the wine or perhaps the high that success brings, but you decide you have to find out what’s going on here. After taking the receipt, you stand up and approach her table. She hasn’t seen you, or maybe she’s pretending not to. Doesn’t matter. You throw yourself into the seat across from her with the confidence of someone who thinks the world revolves around them—because, let’s face it, for you, it does.

“Good evening,” you say in a casual tone, as if invading someone’s space were a natural extension of your personality. “Are you alone?”

She lowers the menu just enough to reveal her eyes, which are, incidentally, quite striking and sharp. But her expression shows the reluctance of someone who knows they’re about to enter a situation they don’t want but have no way out of. “No,” she replies, firm but a bit hesitant. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You smirk, a mix of mockery and sympathy, as if you’ve just heard the world’s lamest excuse, yet you’re willing to play along. “Ah, of course. Waiting for someone. Because, you know, I’ve seen you here alone for... what? An hour? I think, whoever this person is, they’re not showing up. Happens.” You sigh dramatically. “I know the type. Busy people, missed connections... But you know what’s worse? Being alone on such a lovely night.”

She looks at you as if you’ve just claimed the sky is purple. “I’m not alone,” she repeats, her voice sharpening. “My boyfriend is on his way.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly interested. “Boyfriend, huh? Well, if he’s kept you waiting this long... maybe he’s not as interested as he should be.” You lean slightly forward, a faintly mocking smile on your face. “But if he doesn’t show, I could keep you company. I’m told I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

She gives you a look that suggests she’d rather have coffee with the Devil. “No, thank you. I saw you with a girl just now. Isn’t one enough, Mr. Meddler?”

You chuckle, as if she’d just accused you of a minor, harmless offense. “Ah, that lovely woman? Just a friend. Work-related, you know how it is. We just went out to celebrate her win in a contest she entered. Entirely professional.”

The way you say “professional” suggests the exact opposite, but she doesn’t comment, still skeptical.

“Can I know why you’re hiding your face like that? I’d love to see more than just those pretty eyes.”

“I’m shy,” she replies abruptly, trying to cut the conversation short. “Besides, when my boyfriend arrives, he won’t like to see you here.”

You raise your hands in an exaggerated surrender gesture, though the smile remains. “Alright, got it. I don’t want to cause any problems, especially with possessive boyfriends. It just seemed like you might have been... lonely, perhaps? But alright. Lucky you that he’s on his way, then. Hope you both have a magical evening.” You get up slowly, still keeping your eyes on her, clearly trying to decipher the enigma that is this woman with her face hidden.

As you walk away, Hyeju lets out a deep sigh, as if she’d just escaped a scene from a bad spy movie. That was too close, she thinks, her heart still racing.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have hidden,” she whispers to herself as a waiter approaches, still wearing that polite—and slightly irritated—smile he’d shown before.

“Ma’am, would you like to order something now?”

She forces a smile, though it’s obvious her appetite vanished long ago. “I... lost my appetite. Just the bill, please.”

The waiter walks away, and Hyeju remains there, looking at her reflection in the restaurant window, trying to understand how her day, which was supposed to be glorious, led her to this point.

“Well, since I won't be able to sleep tonight, then neither will he.”

—

You’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth with more force than necessary, as if trying to scrub away the bitter taste of the evening. Miyeon is gorgeous, but empty, you conclude. It wouldn’t be the first time you regretted being led by your eyes instead of your head. After all, sleeping with her would’ve just been a tedious side note in your record of bad decisions. You finish, splash water on your face, and are about to settle into bed when a distinctive knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Who the hell...?” You grumble, frowning. It’s late, and you weren’t expecting anyone.

You head to the door, ready to send away whoever’s disturbing you.

But what you see makes you hesitate. Standing at your door is Hyeju, eyes blazing with a fury you hadn’t seen before. Before you can process it, she storms into the room with the grace of a storm about to break.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You shut the door, stunned, as she strides in without so much as a glance, her presence filling the room faster than you can comprehend it.

“You’re fucked,” Hyeju declares.

You turn, confusion turning to indignation.

“How did you even get in here?” you demand, voice rising.

She pauses, as if savoring your disbelief. “Reception,” she begins, as if it were obvious. “I told them I was your assistant and had something urgent to give you before your trip tomorrow. People trust good lies.” She gives a small, humorless smile.

Trip? How the hell does she know you’re leaving tomorrow?

Forget it, doesn’t matter now. You just need to make sure you never stay at this poorly secured hotel again.

Your mouth opens and closes, trying to piece together the absurdity. “Let me guess, you’re here because of the damn magazine, right?”

“Exactly. I demand you put me among the winners.” She crosses her arms, her tone as sharp as a knife.

You laugh, but it’s a harsh, humorless sound. “You’re a sore loser, Hyeju. You lost. Failed. Were defeated. Accept it and stop bothering me.” You step forward, indignation rising within you, but she doesn’t back down.

She laughs, too, but it’s a bitter sound. “Lost? Of course, I lost. Because the brilliant critic was more interested in sleeping with one of the contestants than doing his job.”

The comment hits like a punch, and you freeze for a second. “What?” you stammer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I bet you know exactly what I'm talking about. I saw you two at the restaurant.” She says it with such certainty that a chill runs down your spine. The woman hidden behind the menu... Of course. It makes sense now. “I have proof. Took photos. I was going to expose it publicly, but first, I wanted to see your face... before I ruined your life.”

Your heart pounds, pressure building in your chest. “Proof?” The word barely makes it out of your mouth. Of course, she took photos. And of course, she didn’t just come here to provoke—you’re here to be blackmailed.

“Exactly. And my demand is simple: you remove Miyeon or any other winner and place me there. Though I’d prefer you remove Miyeon, if you don’t mind.”

You try to regain your composure, take a deep breath, and shoot her a scathing look. “You think you can blackmail me like this? I can’t change the results, Hyeju. Even if I wanted to. Besides, why the hell do you think you deserve to win? Besides being a crybaby, you also have a lot of arrogance.”

Hyeju’s grip on your shirt is as sudden as it is forceful. Her fingers curl around the fabric, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you’re so surprised you just freeze. She didn’t just confront you; she dominated you. The proximity is suffocating, and the fury in her eyes brings a sensation you’d never admit: a flash of fear.

“Why didn’t you choose me?” Her voice, low and laced with restrained anger, fills the room. The question isn’t just a demand for an answer; it’s an order. You, the esteemed critic, a giant in your field, feel small for a second.

You try to speak, but your mouth is dry. How did things spiral so far out of control? She pulls you closer, her breath hot against your face, and your heart races, not from fear of what she might physically do, but from her intensity. That intensity burns in a way you find disturbingly thrilling.

"I'm talking to you!" she says, each word leaving her mouth with a fierce heat. "Why did you pick her? The porcelain doll you wanted to take to bed? And why did you leave me out? Because I'm not as 'pretty' as she is? Because I don’t have the shiny veneer of someone who can spend money on stupid trips around the world?"

You feel your shirt tighten against your chest, and though your mind wants to resist, your body… obeys. There’s a pulse of adrenaline you didn’t expect, and for the first time, you genuinely don’t know how to handle this.

“No... that’s not it,” you attempt to protest, but your voice sounds weaker than expected.

"Oh, isn't it?!" Hyeju laughs, but it’s far from amused. "Then explain it to me, acclaimed critic. Why her and not me? Because if your excuse is that my series was outdated, then what was that farce with flowers on concrete? An insult to anyone with half a brain!"

The sarcasm drips from her voice, but you’re more focused on the growing pressure. She pulls you even closer, your faces almost touching, and you feel sweat trickling down your temple, your body tensed between panic and a strange exhilaration. She’s in control, and for the first time in a long time, you’re left without solid ground.

She stares at you with a fierce smile. "So, tell me. Why? What did I do wrong? Oh, let me guess: I’m not some rich doll with a perfectly symmetrical face? Is that it? That I'm not the kind of woman you'd want to take out to dinner and then have sex with?"

You try to regain control, because this is throwing you off balance. You let out a forced laugh, trying to project the confidence that slipped away minutes ago. "It has nothing to do with beauty, Hyeju."

"Oh, no?" She yanks your shirt again, and you stumble forward. "Then why did you pick her? Am I less of an artist because I didn’t give you a seductive glance? Speak up, because that’s exactly how it feels!"

Your body leans forward, practically collapsing under her strength, and for a second you feel the power shift. Her anger is almost tangible, like a force you can feel pressing against you. And you… are at her mercy. Your mind races, but every thought is drawn back to the grip of her hands, to the look in her eyes, a fury that threatens to consume her whole.

You make one last attempt. "You want to know the real reason?" Your voice comes out stronger this time, though still tinged with exhaustion. "Fine, I’ll tell you, you wild thing! I saw that damn tweet of yours."

Hyeju pauses, her grip loosening slightly, eyes narrowing. "Tweet...? What tweet?"

You finally exhale, your chest expanding with momentary relief, but the tension remains. "The one you posted years ago. Calling me a narcissist, arrogant, wedding photographer, saying I had no talent. Conveniently on the same day I won a big award. Remember that? Yeah, I saw it. And yes, I knew it was aimed at me."

She falters, surprised. The intensity is still there, but for a second, you see a flicker of doubt in those previously blazing eyes. "That… that was years ago." Her voice is lower now, almost unsure. "I was just a dumb teenager. I didn’t even know your work properly."

You take a step forward this time, the balance of power shifting again. "I don’t care, Hyeju. You think you can say whatever online and, years later, cozy up to me when you need something? Not to mention this sailor-level crudeness of yours, barging into my room trying to intimidate me. You’re a fake artist. And you know what? This is what you deserve. You’ve already lost. And if you don’t leave now, I swear I’ll ruin your career before it even begins."

She hesitates, biting her lip, her eyes darting toward the door. But the anger is still there, bubbling beneath the surface. "Oh, that’s it? You think you scare me?" she mutters, but her tone wavers a bit. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it, then goodbye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She turns on her heels and heads toward the door.

You take a deep breath, thinking the worst is over, but then the memory of the photos hits you. You move quickly, locking the door, and Hyeju, surprised, takes a step back.

"Not so fast," you say, your tone laced with a new kind of certainty.

She hasn’t finished with you, but you aren’t done with her, either.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow, suspicious. She crosses her arms and looks at you as if she’s seen it all. The air between you isn’t exactly cold; it’s more like that stifling heat before a storm.

“Look,” you start, adjusting your collar as if that might ease your discomfort. “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot, really wrong. How about we try doing this right? Something positive, something that’s mutually beneficial.”

Hyeju narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “I’m not interested in anything other than you pulling Miyeon from the winners and putting me in her place.”

“I can’t do that. You know that. If I backtrack now, what would be left of my reputation? As a critic, I can’t afford to look... indecisive or, worse, corrupt.”

She laughs, but it’s not a pleasant one. It’s the kind that says you got yourself into this mess. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before deciding to screw me over.”

You swallow, feeling the blow, but you persist. “I... I was immature, Hyeju. Honestly. When I saw that tweet... I don’t know, it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. It was stupid of me to hold onto it and let my bruised ego guide my decision. It wasn’t professional, and I know that.”

Hyeju seems surprised but tries to hide it. Her anger, which was so visibly intense before, seems to give way to an internal conflict.

"So it was all because of a tweet?" She lets out a disbelieving sigh. "A tweet? That was years ago! It was just a quick jab. I was frustrated at the time; nothing was going right in my life. Seeing someone around my age achieving so much… I didn’t really mean those things.”

“I get that. And I should’ve realized it. But I couldn’t. I was childish, let my pride get in the way, and ended up… I made a big mistake. And you didn’t deserve that.”

Hyeju hesitates, the words lingering in the air as she decides whether to forgive you. “And I... I don’t see things that way anymore. I criticized you before really understanding your work. What I said—or rather, tweeted—was shallow. I changed my opinion after, started admiring your work and being inspired by it. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even be here. So... I’m sorry.”

She seems to swallow her words with difficulty, but there’s something genuine in the apology. You see it, and something in you softens.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, your voice lower, less defensive. “For the way I treated you. I could’ve been fair, but I let something petty from the past cloud my judgment. Now, I can’t just undo it all. But I can admit your work is excellent. You deserved more.”

Hyeju turns her face, looking out the window, contemplating her next words.

“Alright... so... what do you suggest?”

You take a step forward, seizing the small opening. “I suggest we do something together. A project, a collaboration. Something that shows your talent, without needing any favoritism, where nobody loses. A chance to prove you’re far more than just a frustrated competitor.”

Hyeju looks at you, her head tilted. She’s processing, considering the offer. “And how do I know you won’t screw me over again?”

You smile, tired but sincere. “Because, honestly, I don’t want to screw you over. I did it once and… frankly, it didn’t do me any good. I want to make things right.”

She shakes her head slowly, as if the idea is taking shape in her mind. “Okay. Okay, fine. But don’t think that makes you a saint. I still think you acted like an ass because of a tweet.”

You laugh, a light laugh, almost relieved. “I was. No doubt about it. A total ass. But one who now wants to make things right.”

Hyeju finally sighs, as if accepting that there’s nothing left to do but move forward. “Alright then. Let’s see where this goes.”

The atmosphere in the room starts to relax. You feel the tension drain away slowly.

“And, just for the record,” she says with a wry grin, “Miyeon’s series? Horrible. A disaster. You need to admit it."

You laugh. “You have no idea the sacrifice. I nearly drowned in metaphors trying to explain to journalists that it was at least acceptable.”

“Acceptable? For that series to be called bad, it still has a long way to go!”

“You’re tough with your critiques—I respect that,” you say. “Now, since there’s no more conflict, how about you be a good girl and delete those photos?” you add with a wink.

You watch as Hyeju reaches into her bag for her phone, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She scrolls through her gallery until she lands on the shots she took of you and Miyeon, that innocent kiss in the restaurant now preserved in pixels. And when she turns the screen toward you, the sight of those images suddenly makes you painfully aware of your own foolishness.

“So, what do you think?” Hyeju teases, her tone laced with the knowledge that she has the upper hand. “Should I take up your collaboration offer, or… let these photos go public? It’d make for a juicy career-ending scandal, wouldn’t you say? The photography prodigy, brought down by a cheap affair.”

You laugh nervously, mostly because that’s what’s expected. Inside, your brain is already calculating the damage. “Alright, alright… Hyeju, let's not act on impulse...”

She shrugs, clearly enjoying your discomfort, then taps the screen and deletes the photos with a theatrical gesture. “Relax. I just wanted to see you sweat a little. Poetic justice, you know?”

You blink, caught off guard, unsure if you should feel relieved or resentful. “You really enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

“If you knew me, you’d know I do it all the time.” She slips her phone back into her bag, glancing around the room like she’s already bored. “Guess that’s that. I’ll be going, then.”

Something about her words gnaws at you more than it should. Almost on impulse, you reach out and grab her wrist. “Wait. Stay.”

She looks at you, half wary, half confused. “What are you doing?”

You chuckle softly, as if catching yourself in a slip. “I’d like to talk more with you. About… photography, art, whatever. You seem interesting. Now that there’s no drama, there’s no harm in getting to know each other better, right?”

“I still think you’re a jerk, you know.”

“I can live with that.” You smile—that smile that usually softens people up, the one that says, Yes, I’m a jerk, but a lovable one, right?

She hesitates, her gaze wandering to the mirror across the room. The reflection shows someone who clearly put effort into looking their best: the elegant dress, the perfect hair, all planned for an occasion that now feels like a waste of effort.

“Fine,” she finally replies, with a kind of resigned reluctance. “But only because I’m already here.”

You stand up, victory masked on your face, and head to the mini-fridge. Grabbing two beers, you gesture vaguely toward the bed. “Have a seat. I don’t bite… unless you ask, of course.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, still upright, as if ready to leave at any moment. You open one of the bottles and hand it to her as you sit beside her with your own.

“So,” you begin, taking a sip, “how does a promising photographer and an award-winning jerk end up here after a disastrous evening?”

Hyeju takes a sip, mulling over her answer. “Promising, huh? Look at that, the jerk knows how to recognize talent.”

“I always have,” you shrug, “but sometimes, circumstances… complicate things.”

“Circumstances like… sabotaging me over a grudge and favoring another girl just for a hookup?”

“In my defense she is as beautiful as she is empty, she has a beautiful smile and a lovely laugh… Fuck, you end up liking her…”

“That explains a lot. I knew your choice was questionable, but I didn’t know you had a fetish for wax dolls.”

“Ouch! And impressively accurate.”

Hyeju smirks, a small smile that carries a certain pride. “I’m good with words, as well as photos. Maybe I should consider a career as an art critic?”

“Oh, no, please. We have enough critics as it is. Most of them are bitterer than bad beer.”

She takes another sip, relaxing a bit more. “I don’t have the patience for it. I’d rather be on the other side, creating.”

“I can see it in your photos. They have soul.”

“Trying to impress me?”

“Maybe,” you admit, winking. “Maybe I’m just trying to make up for being a jerk earlier.”

“Keep trying, but it's not like I trust you anyway.”

You feign an offended look, hand dramatically on your chest. “Me? Incredible! Talented! Award-winning! Humble! And you still don’t trust me?”

Hyeju rolls her eyes so hard you almost expect her to get dizzy. “Award-winning? Congratulations on flattering people enough to get awards.”

“First of all, I never flattered anyone to get where I am. And, hey, look who’s talking about flattery,” you retort, taking a sip of beer. “Someone who’s already tried to ruin me with 280 characters and then spent the entire day trying to play nice. What happened to all that digital hostility, sweetheart?”

She leans in a bit, her lips curved into a smile that feels more like a threat. “You want me to be hostile again? Because I can.”

“No hostility,” you respond, smiling with a calm air. “But I’ll admit, I’m enjoying this side of you. Way more interesting than Miyeon.”

“Oh, so you like stressing people out?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “You know… life would be boring without a good argument.”

She takes another sip of beer, like she’s deciding whether or not to keep going with this. “If it weren’t for the tweet,” she starts, in a casual tone, “would you have hit on me instead of Rich Girl Barbie?”

You chuckle, a little surprised by the directness, but not exactly bothered. “Hard to say. You don’t strike me as the type to fall for my usual charm. It would’ve been a challenge.”

“So right now I'm just a challenge to you?” she fires back.

“Hey, hey,” you raise your hands, grinning. “Not at all. But I admit I like someone who keeps me on my toes. Easy people… honestly, they put me to sleep.”

“So you sleep with Miyeon and literally fall asleep right after?” Hyeju shoots back dryly.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. “Well, that’s pretty much what almost happened.”

Hyeju snickers, one of those laughs she tries to pass off as disbelief, but you catch the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

“I know,” you agree cheerfully. “But a charming kind of pathetic, or so they say.”

She shakes her head, smirking. “I don’t know how you can be so cocky and somehow a little likable at the same time.”

“It’s a rare skill,” you reply, leaning back a bit, studying her expressions as if trying to capture every detail. “And you, Hyeju, are very good at being… difficult.”

She meets your gaze, her expression firm. “Difficult? No. I’m just honest.”

“Yes, you say exactly what you think, all the time. And you know what? That’s kind of… refreshing. No one does that.”

“That’s because the world’s full of brown-nosers and idiots,” Hyeju replies, and you realize she genuinely believes that. “I don’t have time for that kind of people. If I think something’s crap, I say it.”

“Like my work,” you say, laughing. “You thought it was crap and tweeted about it.”

She takes a long sip, her eyes never leaving yours. “Exactly. And it wrecked you.”

“Wrecked? Me?” You raise a hand as if making a vow. “I thrive on criticism—it’s my fuel.”

“Didn’t look like it when you ignored me in the exhibition,” she shoots back.

“Maybe,” you admit, smiling. “But, honestly? That tweet was the best backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Hyeju tilts her head, intrigued. “And how did you reach that brilliant conclusion?”

“Because you only went after me because you were envious of my accomplishments,” you say, looking straight into her eyes. “And I can assure you, I worked hard to get where I am.”

She pauses, biting her lip as if weighing her thoughts. “Okay, just as I'm honest about offending your work, I'm also honest about stepping back and reconsidering my opinion, so yeah, I admire your art. And maybe a hundred years from now I'll admire you too.”

“Oh, so there’s a chance you’ll change your mind?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she replies, feigning disinterest. “If you stop being a jerk, I might consider it.”

“Now I have a new goal,” you laugh. “Stop being a jerk for Hyeju. That’s a harder project than any photoshoot.”

“Good luck,” she says, raising her bottle in a toast. “You’ll need it.”

The toast feels like a silent pact. A truce between two forces who clearly enjoy challenging each other. And you realize, against all odds, that you’re genuinely enjoying the night.

"You know," you start, leaning in slightly toward her, "that impossible way you have about you... I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asks, crossing her arms like she's expecting another sarcastic remark.

"Good," you reply, serious for a brief second, before breaking the mood with a playful smile. "Good, but unbearable. I think you're getting me addicted to fights."

"It's an addictive drug, this whole 'brutal honesty' thing," she says, tossing her hair back. "But I can’t promise you’ll handle the addiction."

"Now I want to find out," you answer, not missing a beat.

You lean back on the bed a little, looking at Hyeju with a smile that's half-charm, half-tease. She stares right back, clearly unwilling to drop her guard, though the playful gleam in her eyes is undeniable.

"Look," she starts, still holding the empty beer bottle between her fingers, "You said I’m more interesting than Miyeon, but, let's face it, she's perfect. So perfect it's annoying. If she's your type, then I’m definitely not."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Who said she’s my type? And who said you're not?"

She shrugs, as if it’s obvious. "If you like porcelain dolls, I’m definitely in a different category, dude."

"I'm a man of varied tastes," you counter, leaning in a bit. "And honestly? You’re very much my type."

"Oh, sure. I'll pretend to believe that."

You chuckle, but there's something more serious in your voice as you look at her a bit more closely. "I’m serious. You’ve got those eyes... those eyes that are hypnotizing. It’s like you’re a wolf, ready to pounce."

She lets out a low laugh, her skeptical expression barely shifting. "I'll really pretend to believe that."

"No, seriously!" you insist, laughing too, though your voice drops slightly, almost conspiratorial. "When you grabbed me by the shirt earlier, looked me dead in the eyes like that, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Really."

Hyeju looks at you for a moment, then one corner of her mouth curls into a mischievous smile. "You're saying you like dominant girls, is that it?"

"I’d say so, yeah. And I think a woman with enough power could put me in my place. Some people unfortunately only learn the hard way."

She is silent as she places the empty bottle on the nightstand, then she looks at you with an unreadable, yet quite sexy expression. "You make me laugh," she says, her voice a bit softer now, but with that sharp, mocking edge. "And it’s hard for a guy to make me laugh." You feel oddly complimented, but before you can respond, she continues, "But I think it's because you're kinda pathetic.”

"Pathetic, huh?"

She smiles back, eyes locked on yours as she approaches you on the bed. "Yes, pathetic. In a... charming way, as you said.”

You let out a short laugh, lowering your head for a moment before looking back at her. "Well, there’s something pretty sexy about the way you humiliate me. It makes me feel strange things."

"Oh, yeah?" Her tone is teasing, but her eyes study you with an intensity that wasn’t there before. "I make you feel that way, huh?"

You swallow, but keep the smile on your face. "You do. And I need to be honest, I’m enjoying it a lot more than I expected."

"Okay, you really are pathetic."

"Maybe," you answer, looking directly into her eyes. "And I think that's a good thing for a tough girl; you know, she can do whatever she wants with a guy like that." Hyeju stares at you for a moment as if she's deciding what to do next, but instead of saying something, she just smiles subtly. You feel the atmosphere in the room shift again, this time into something more electric, something that makes your heart beat a little faster. "Oh, and maybe," you add, your voice almost a whisper now, "getting under your skin was the smartest thing I did today."

"Smart or suicidal?”

“Well, I’m hoping to find out soon if it was smart or suicidal," you reply as you hand her your bottle so she can put it on the nightstand.

Hyeju, more relaxed now, slips off her heels and, without ceremony, puts her legs across your lap. You can't help but take a good look at her toned thighs before starting to massage her feet, noticing how tense they are. "You know," you start, your voice casual, "you would have been way better company than Miyeon at that restaurant."

“If you’d slept with Miyeon, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

You pause the foot massage for a moment, reflecting, before shrugging. “Maybe. But, honestly? I think I would’ve regretted it. She’s... well, pretty, but she’s like a hardcover book with blank pages."

“So, what? I’m the more interesting option, but clearly the second choice.”

“Second choice? Look, maybe you’re seeing this the wrong way.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s the right way to see it?” She crosses her arms but keeps her legs on your lap.

You take a dramatic pause, your hand still resting on her thigh. "Well, who knows... maybe the universe got involved in this whole thing just to make sure we’d end up here, now. Maybe Miyeon was just the excuse."

"That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. If that’s the best you can come up with, I think I understand why your art judgment is so... questionable."

You smile, charmed by how easily she can tear you down with a single line. "It might not work for you, but I’m good at adapting to circumstances. And speaking of adapting..." Your hand slides a little further up her leg, an almost innocent move, if not for the way your fingers rest on her soft skin. "I have to admit, you looked absolutely stunning at the exhibition yesterday."

“Oh, yeah? What exactly did you find so stunning?"

"Everything. Your dress, your hair, your perfume, you also look quite cute when you're nervous. It was hard for me to be rude to you… Seriously, I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

Hyeju laughs, a low, almost gentle sound this time, like she's testing you. “You don’t apologize often, do you?”

“It doesn’t happen a lot,” you admit, feeling a wave of genuine honesty that doesn’t usually come up. "But now I want to apologize as much as necessary for you to forgive me."

She uncrosses her arms, and suddenly, the tension in the air shifts again. "It’s in the past," she murmurs, as if she's more focused on the present than on what happened before.

Then, before you know it, she takes her legs off your lap and leans in closer, your faces so close you can smell her soft perfume. "You know," she says, her tone half-mocking but with a hint of gentleness, "for a jerk, you’re actually pretty cute."

And without warning, her lips touch yours.

The kiss starts almost playfully, a silent dare that Hyeju seems intent on winning. She's dangerously close, her hand on your chest, and you can feel your heart pounding. She smiles between the press of her lips, as if she's reveling in your reaction. You feel the texture of her lips, soft yet firm, a kiss with that unstable tension that only makes things more thrilling. Then Hyeju decides to escalate, her fingers tracing the nape of your neck, and your hand squeezing the soft flesh of her thigh, absorbing that delicious heat. The sexual tension isn't just a spark; it's a full-blown inferno. You feel the heat rising from your lips to your face, to every inch of your skin. You try to hold back, to maintain your composure, because right now she's simply enjoying the game, and you don't want to spoil her pleasure. She pulls away for a moment, long enough for you to think the kiss is over, but it's just a cruel tease, because she's back, and this time the touch is gentler, as if she's toying with you, controlling the intensity with maddening precision. And you're convinced this is the kind of kiss that should be studied, because it's layered with meaning—a subtle provocation, a hint of irritating attraction, and an unexpected honesty that doesn't belong to two people who, just hours ago, could barely stand each other. Hatred transformed into pure desire, and it's in everything—the fine sheen of sweat, the exchanged saliva, the air, in the curious hands... The night is just beginning.

"Did you like it?" Hyeju asks.

You smile, that half-sly, half-entranced grin. “The universe definitely knows what it’s doing,” you reply.

“You’re a scoundrel, you know that?” Hyeju mutters, her voice low, as if she’s talking more to herself.

“Scoundrel? Yeah, a scoundrel with no salvation... unless some girl touches my heart.” You chuckle, that self-deprecating tone that just makes the moment even more fun.

She gives you a light slap on your chest. "Stop trying to be romantic. It doesn’t suit you.”

You laugh, genuinely, and run a hand through her hair, moving down to her shoulder. "Who said I’m trying?"

She looks at you with a mixture of disbelief and... something else. Something warmer. "Maybe you’re more interesting than I thought," she admits, almost reluctantly.

"And you," you say, your voice lowering slightly, “are much more than just interesting.”

Hyeju smiles in a way that can only be described as dangerously charming. Without warning, she moves quickly, and before you understand what’s happening, she’s sitting on top of you. Her weight on your lap is both comfortable and destabilizing, like at that moment, the control of the situation has shifted hands. And clearly, it has.

"Oh, so this is how you want to play?" you ask, trying to keep some control over your own voice.

She tilts her head, her hair falling to the side, that smile still firmly on her lips. "Me? Play? Honey, I already won."

And then she kisses you again, this time with an intensity that catches you off guard, Making you lie on your back in bed. There’s no hesitation, just desire carved into every move, every touch. Her tongue meets yours as if she's marking territory, and the sensation is electrifying. Your hands, as if they have a mind of their own, slide up her thighs, feeling the firmness and softness of her skin, moving up her waist until they reach her back.

She leans in more, her lips now moving to your neck, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Every kiss feels like a small conquest, as if she’s claiming pieces of you inch by inch.

"You get goosebumps so easily, don't you?" Hyeju murmurs against your skin.

"Not my fault," you reply, your voice rougher than usual. "You know exactly where to touch."

She lets out a low chuckle, her teeth grazing lightly along your skin. "You haven't seen anything yet."

When she kisses you again, it's a mix of desire and absolute control. Her hands cradle your face, her lips moving with precision, and you can't help but think, in the heat of that moment, it's utterly addictive. Your tongues tangle frantically, as if every second holds a newfound urgency.

"I’m going to teach you a lesson," she murmurs between kisses, biting your lip gently. The brief pain only intensifies your longing.

You chuckle low, trying to keep a trace of your mocking personality amid the chaos. "And what kind of lesson would that be?"

She pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that almost undoes you on the spot. "The lesson that you can’t underestimate someone like me," she says, her hands sliding down your chest. "Because, in the end, I always win."

You give her a lopsided grin, still trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it's clear you've already lost. "Confident, huh?"

"More than you," she responds with a smirk, resuming her kisses as her hands explore every inch of your body. Your own hands are back on her thighs, moving up, feeling every curve, every line. She moves with a fluidity that can only be described as fierce.

For a moment, you try to catch your breath, but she doesn’t give you room. "You really love having control, don't you?"

Hyeju stops and looks at you, that mischievous smile still on her lips. "And you love losing it. Admit it."

"Maybe I’m learning to like it," you reply, your hand sliding along the curve of her waist.

Hyeju pauses, and slowly pulls away, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, before climbing off your body. With a sly smile, she stands, eyes blazing with mischief.

"Hold on, bad boy, we’re doing this my way." She says, raising her hands to finally remove the dress. The zipper slides smoothly down, and with one firm motion, the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her flawless lingerie. Her body is a living masterpiece, the kind that makes your heart both skip and race.

You watch, mouth slightly open, unable to hide your awe. "Damn… I can't take my eyes off you, you're so fucking perfect, Hyeju," you murmur.

"And you think I don’t know that?" She steps toward you, her eyes locked on yours, stopping just in front of you. "Now take off those clothes. Quickly."

Her voice is firm, almost commanding, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "Looks like someone’s in charge today, huh?"

"Are you still talking?" she counters with a half-smile, leaning over you. "I thought you’d already figured out who calls the shots here."

You laugh, but comply without argument. You start to take off your shirt and pants quickly, trying to keep your usual charm, though you know she already has the upper hand. When you're down to just your boxers, Hyeju gives you an appraising look from head to toe, releasing a playful sigh.

"Much better," she says, placing a hand on her hip as she assesses you critically, like she’s judging what's in front of her. "But it’s still not quite good enough."

"Care to give me a hand here?" you tease.

Hyeju shakes her head, stepping forward until your bodies are almost touching. “Are you really incapable of doing anything on your own?" she says, her tone cool, but her face still wearing that wicked smile. "Fine, I’ll help you with this."

She gives your chest a light shove, making you lie back on the bed.

Hyeju approaches, her steps slow, almost like a huntress, until she easily straddles you, pressing her body against yours.

She starts kissing you, her lips hot and hungry, and you respond in kind, running your hands along her back, feeling the delicate fabric of her bra. Her kisses travel down your neck, swift and sure, until she begins to explore your chest with her mouth.

"And to think all that anger at Miyeon was really jealousy," you say, laughing between breaths as she moves lower. "Gonna deny that seeing her with me drove you crazy?"

Hyeju pauses, her lips hovering over your abdomen. She meets your gaze with a sharp look, her smile dangerously mischievous. "Crazy? Yes. But don’t get cocky. It drove me crazy for all the wrong reasons."

She continues her trail of kisses along your body, unhurried, as if she knows exactly the impact she's having on you. Her warm lips slide across your skin until she stops just above the line of your boxers.

"Are you really going to make me wait?"

"I love watching you lose control," she murmurs, before trailing her tongue slowly along your stomach. "And it looks like it's already happening."

She places a teasing kiss just above the bulge in your boxers, pressing down lightly with her fingers, and you can’t hold back a low moan. "If you keep this up, I'll have to pay you back," you threaten, but it's clear you have no intention of changing the dynamic.

Hyeju laughs, squeezing a bit more firmly, her eyes never leaving yours. "I love when you try to act tough. It’s actually cute." She plants another kiss over your boxers before lifting her head. "But we both know who’s in charge here."

She leans forward, kissing your chest again, her skilled hands toying with your nipples as your body responds to her every touch.

"You’ll thank me later," she whispers, her mouth descending again to your boxers, eyes locked onto yours. "You can bet on that."

"Or maybe I’ll be the one making you thank me," you retort, trying to keep up appearances, but knowing she’s already winning.

"Nice try," Hyeju says with a wicked grin, her fingers hooking onto the waistband of your boxers. "Now, let’s see if you can last."

She slowly and deliberately pulls down your boxers, revealing your hard cock, completely at her mercy. She releases an exaggerated sigh, her eyes fixed on you, savoring every second of your anticipation.

"Well, look at this," she taunts, tilting her head slightly as she lightly trails her hand along the length. "All this, just for me? What an honor."

You chuckle, trying to keep your cool. "Feel flattered all you want, but I want to see what you're going to do with it."

She smiles, that familiar look of pure mischief flashing across her face, before lowering her head slowly. She stops just as her lips are about to touch the head, hovering mere millimeters away, and looks up at you. "You're going to learn to stay quiet."

And before you can respond with another joke, she wraps her warm, wet lips around the head of your cock, and you let out an involuntary moan. The sensation is instant, and you can barely hold back. Hyeju works with precision, starting slow, just the tip, swirling her tongue in circles that leave you breathless.

"Still feeling cocky?" she teases, pulling away for a moment, a thin line of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. She smirks, wiping the saliva with her finger and licking it off, maintaining eye contact. "Or have you given up on playing tough?" You try to reply, but with the pleasure surging through you, you only manage an incoherent mumble. This only makes her smile grow. "Thought so."

She goes back to sucking, now taking more of you, swallowing most of your length with ease, her eyes never leaving yours. She makes sure to stay in control, adjusting the intensity and speed according to what she wants from you. Every time you moan louder, she slows down, as if testing your limits.

"How are you feeling, baby?" she asks, pulling away briefly to stroke your wet cock. "I know you love it when I make you wait."

"Not gonna lie," you admit, breathless, your mind spinning from the building pleasure. "But... you’ll have to try harder if you want to break me."

"Oh, I’ll break you, don’t worry."

She leans back down, licking along the entire length, slowly, savoring every part of you. "I'll teach you the lesson you deserve."

Her pace begins to increase, the movements faster and more intense, her mouth sliding up and down in an intoxicating rhythm. She takes you all the way, the wet sound and her soft moans filling the room. You feel the heat and pressure building, as though she's drawing the life out of you.

"Getting close, aren’t you?" she asks between licks.

"You... you know it," you admit, barely able to speak.

"Then get ready," she murmurs, focusing on the head, sucking with intensity while her hand moves to cup your balls. "Because I want to watch you lose control."

And you do. The pleasure is overwhelming, your whole body trembling as she keeps sucking, relentless. The way she alternates between licking, sucking, and squeezing your balls pushes you to the edge. You feel the pressure mounting, your body preparing to explode, but she slows down once again, pulling away and chuckling softly.

"You want to come, don't you? But not so fast," she teases, her lips still grazing the tip of your cock. She kisses the head softly, almost like she's rewarding you for holding out this long. "I'm going to end up killing you with all this teasing, you know that?" She laughs, resuming with a slower, yet equally devastating rhythm.

Each time she takes back control, the intensity climbs gradually, until you're at a point where your mind can barely keep up. Her mouth doesn’t stop, her eyes fixed on you, as if savoring the power she has in her hands—or rather, in her mouth.

Hyeju intensifies her movements, her mouth sliding over your cock with a practiced ease, not letting up. The way she switches between firm suction and long licks is unbearably good, and you feel the pleasure building up to explosive levels.

She watches you from below, a sharp gaze that knows exactly what it’s doing. "I can feel you shaking. You’re almost there, aren’t you?"

"Fuck... yeah, almost," you moan, your body arching involuntarily as pleasure reaches a peak that feels impossible to contain.

She smiles, clearly reveling in the control she has over you. "I know you can’t hold out much longer. But you’re only going to come when I let you. Got it?"

"Got it..." you manage to reply, your voice breaking as your breathing grows heavier. Each second feels like an eternity, your body begging for release, but she keeps dictating the pace, keeping you on the edge.

She leans down again, sucking harder, as one hand wraps around the base of your cock, gripping and controlling every movement. Her other hand caresses your balls, squeezing lightly, pushing you even closer to the edge.

"You’re going to come so hard for me," Hyeju murmurs, pulling your cock from her mouth for a moment. "But only when I want you to. I want to feel that power I have over you."

"You already have all the power," you groan, practically pleading. "Please..."

"That's how I like it," she says with a satisfied smile, going back to sucking, as if she wants to consume you entirely. "Now, get ready. When I give the order, you’re going to give me everything you've got."

She picks up the pace, sucking with devotion, her wet, firm lips around you, each second bringing you closer to the edge. Her eyes never leave yours, as if she's feeding off your expression of pure desperation and ecstasy.

"Are you ready?" she asks, her voice low and commanding. You can only moan in response, already incapable of forming words.

"I want you to come for me... now!"

Her words are the final trigger. The control you’ve been struggling to maintain shatters completely. Pleasure overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan, your whole body convulsing as the first wave of orgasm crashes over you. Hyeju doesn’t let up, continuing to suck with the same intensity, taking each spurt of cum with a blend of satisfaction and triumph.

"Yes... give me everything," she murmurs between movements, her voice muffled as she keeps sucking, swallowing every drop without hesitation, as if she's feeding off you. "Good boy... I knew you’d give me everything I wanted."

Your whole body trembles as she continues, pushing you beyond your limits, until pleasure melds with exhaustion. Hyeju finally pulls her mouth away, slowly licking her lips to clean off the last traces of your cum.

"Wow..." you gasp, unable to keep from smiling, your mind still reeling. "If that wasn't a perfect blowjob, I don’t know what is."

Hyeju laughs, satisfied, leaning over you, her body warm against yours. "I warned you I’d knock you out, didn’t I?"

You nod, still catching your breath. "I underestimated you. But now... I’m completely convinced."

Her lips find yours with renewed heat, the slight salty taste of your cum mingling in the kiss. She explores your mouth with an almost animalistic hunger, her body pressed against yours as your hands trace her back, sliding down to her hips.

You feel yourself respond again, your erection returning quickly under her touch, as if your body has been trained to react to the slightest stimulus from Hyeju. She notices instantly and smiles against your mouth, breaking the kiss to gently bite your lower lip, then sliding her tongue to your earlobe, nibbling it lightly.

"Is your dick getting hard again already?" she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "But I barely let you rest."

You let out a sigh, somewhere between a smile and a moan, feeling the pressure in your cock build as she moves slowly over you. "You leave me no choice. With you, resting is impossible."

She chuckles softly, giving your earlobe another bite before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, her smile full of mischief. "That’s how I like it, baby."

As you try to catch your breath, your mind still spinning, a thought crosses your mind, and you let out a low, teasing giggle. "You know, Miyeon would never swallow like you did... Not even if I paid her."

Hyeju raises an eyebrow, her smile turning into something more disdainful. "Miyeon?" She laughs, throwing her head back for a moment. "That little porcelain princess? Please... Not only would she never swallow, she’d never let you come on her perfect little face."

"Yeah, she’d probably have a meltdown just thinking about the mess," you respond, laughing along.

"Exactly," Hyeju says, bringing her face close to yours again, her lips almost brushing yours. "And do you think she could survive a second with me? I’d destroy the princess."

She kisses you, more intensely this time, as if to drive her point home. Her tongue plays with yours, and you taste a mixture of challenge and possessiveness that only she can convey. As the kiss deepens, Hyeju's hand slides slowly down to your erection, which is fully hard again. She strokes your cock with a skilled touch, but without rushing things.

You let out a sigh, breathless, feeling your body respond more and more to her touch. "And I won’t even lie... Cumming on your face would be way more fun."

Her body presses a little harder against yours, and you feel the rising heat between her thighs as the friction makes you throb even harder.

"You talk about cumming on my face like it's the ultimate goal," Hyeju murmurs against your mouth, while her hand continues working your cock, her fingers gripping lightly. "But you haven’t even started to discover what I can do to you."

You moan softly, your body reacting automatically to her touch. "Oh, I’ve seen enough. And what I’ve seen... has already driven me crazy."

She smiles, biting your lip lightly once again. "Then it's time to show you more, don't you think?"

Before you have the chance to respond, Hyeju lets go of your erection and pulls back just enough to slide her hands down to her panties. With a swift motion, she pulls the fabric to the side, revealing her wet pussy, and just the sight makes you harder than you thought possible.

She positions herself over you, her panties still pushed to the side, and without hesitation, she lowers herself until the head of your cock touches her lips. Her heat and wetness are almost overwhelming, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. Hyeju looks into your eyes, that expression of pure control on her face, as she starts to sink down slowly, taking you in inch by inch.

"Ah... fuck," you gasp, unable to hold back. Her tightness is intense, her warmth making your head spin, and the way she moves down slowly, with total control, only heightens the torment.

Hyeju bites her own lip, letting out a quiet moan as she feels you fill her. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Damn, you got my pussy so wet..."

She begins moving slowly, riding with a steady, confident rhythm, her hips undulating as she dictates the pace. The wet sound of her body meeting yours is intoxicating, and you feel your hands instinctively gripping her waist, trying to keep up, but Hyeju doesn’t allow it.

"Oh no," she says in an authoritative tone, stopping her movement and placing her hands over yours, pushing them away from her waist. "I told you I’m the one in control here. Don’t even think about rushing me."

You obey, smiling with a mix of submission and provocation. "Yes, ma'am. Who am I to argue?"

She smiles back, satisfied with your surrender. "Good boy."

She resumes her movement, gradually increasing her speed, her body sliding over you with devastating precision. Each time she sinks down, you feel her tightness intensify, her whole body vibrating with pleasure as she controls every rise and fall. The sight of her bare breasts only heightens the eroticism and anticipation.

"This... has nothing to do with Miyeon," Hyeju says, her voice slightly breathless, but still with that commanding tone. "She’d never be able to leave you like this... completely at her mercy. You know that, right?"

"You’re right," you admit. "Only you can do this to me, Hyeju.”

She smiles again, her ego swelling with your confession, and begins to ride you harder, the rhythm now faster, the movements more intense. The sound of bodies colliding fills the room, Hyeju’s moans growing louder, but she never loses control.

“That’s it, go on… feel how much you’re mine,” she murmurs, eyes closed as she sinks into the sensation, yet never relinquishing command. “Mmm, your cock goes so deep in my pussy, fuck!”

Hyeju speeds up her rhythm, her body rising and falling over you with a near-cruel precision, each movement keeping you on the edge of pleasure, but still far from release.

Suddenly, she pauses for a moment, her hips pressed firmly against yours, and with calculated calm, she reaches up to her bra strap. Her gaze locks onto yours, a challenging smile forming at the corner of her mouth. She slides the straps off her shoulders and, with a slow motion, unclasps the back. The bra falls away, revealing the breasts you’d been dying to see uncovered.

She holds them briefly, squeezing them lightly, fingers teasing her own nipples before letting out a low, provocative laugh. “Do you like them, baby?” she asks. “I know you can’t take your eyes off my tits.”

You feel your breath catch, the sight of her bare breasts swaying slightly as she keeps you trapped beneath her, mesmerizing. “Well… as a photographer I'm always observing things, and I appreciate natural beauty, if you know what I mean..”

She resumes riding you, now with a more deliberate rhythm, her free breasts moving with the sway of her hips, and you can’t look away. The pleasure builds slowly, but she knows exactly how to keep you on the brink, never letting you fall into the abyss.

It’s delicious torture.

“Go on, say it,” she whispers, eyes locked on yours. “Admit you love watching them bounce while I use you. Tell me how much you love being my toy.”

You moan in response, your whole body arching with the rising pleasure, still holding back as best you can. “Damn… I love it. You know I do.”

She smiles, satisfied, riding with more intensity now, her movements faster, her hips slamming into you with force. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, the sight driving you to the edge of desperation. She leans back slightly, planting her hands on your knees, her body displayed in all its glory, moving with complete dominance.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she murmurs, her voice breathless yet filled with authority.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, the pleasure building slowly but still just out of reach.

Then, she slows down, her movements becoming a tease, provoking you. With an expression of pure authority, she leans forward, her breasts swaying lightly, almost brushing your face. She grabs your chin with one hand and looks directly into your eyes.

“Suck them,” she commands, her voice low and commanding. “I want to feel your mouth on my breasts.”

No further invitation is needed. Without hesitation, you raise your head and bring your lips to her breast, capturing her nipple and sucking devotedly. The soft taste of her skin and the sensation of her so close make you even harder, if that were possible. Hyeju lets out a low moan of satisfaction as you comply, her fingers tangling in your hair, guiding your head firmly.

“Yes… just like that,” she murmurs, her tone filled with pleasure. “I knew you’d be good at this. Go on, suck harder!”

You suck on her breast with more intensity, your tongue teasing her hardened nipple, while your other hand slides up to her other breast, gently squeezing it. Hyeju’s body responds immediately, and she moans louder, pressing her breasts against your mouth as if she wants to be devoured.

“You love this, don’t you?” she whispers, her breath ragged. “You love when I tell you what to do… when I put you in your place. You love being your mistress's toy!”

You only moan in response, unwilling to release her breast, sucking with even more fervor as your hands explore her body. Hyeju laughs, pleased with your dedication, her fingers tugging at your hair as her body starts moving over your cock again, now slower but still tight enough to make you see stars.

“Yes! Keep going… don’t stop,” she orders, moaning as she moves with a calculated rhythm, her breasts still firmly caught in your mouth. “I want to feel your mouth on me while I use you.”

You feel her body tremble slightly as she rides you, and you can’t help but let out a muffled moan, your mouth full of her breast. The pleasure is overwhelming, but you know Hyeju is still in charge, and you have no choice but to follow her lead.

Hyeju keeps riding you with absurd precision, each movement designed to bring you closer to the edge, yet still far enough that she maintains absolute control. Her breathing is heavier now, but the superior smile never leaves her face.

“You know you’re mine, right?” she says, biting her lip as she speeds up her thrusts. “My toy. My slave. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”

You smile back, breathless, but with that cocky look she seems to adore. “Oh, you know, Hyeju. I’d do anything you want. I don’t have a choice, not with you like this.”

She lets out a low, wicked laugh, her hips moving almost mechanically, each thrust driving you deeper, more tightly into the grip she has on you. “Of course you don’t have a choice. Because you love being used. You love when I command. When I make a fool out of you with just a look.”

You groan in response, your hands slipping along her waist, trying to keep up, but she immediately slaps them away, stopping for a second.

“No! I’m the one who moves,” she says, with that authoritative tone that makes you shiver.

You try to hold back, savoring each second of this delicious torture, but Hyeju doesn’t let you settle in for long. Suddenly, she stops moving and lets out a satisfied moan as she leans back, supporting her hands on your knees. Her body, still enveloping you, glistens with a thin layer of sweat, and the sight alone could drive anyone insane.

"Now, I want something different," she murmurs, her eyes narrowing with an idea that already seems to put you in danger. "I’m going to show you what it’s like when I really take control."

She lifts herself slowly, letting out a sigh as your cock slides out of her, and then, without warning, she turns her back to you. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she positions herself again, this time facing away, and in one smooth motion, she lowers herself down, taking you in completely.

"Oh... fuck! I love the tightness of your pussy," you groan aloud, the sight of her back, her hips swaying as she wraps around you again, the kind of torture you’d love to endure far longer than you can manage.

She begins to ride you backwards, the pace fast and relentless, and you find yourself at the mercy of her precise movements. Each time she descends, the grip of her pussy around you feels tighter, more suffocating. The sound of bodies colliding fills the room, and Hyeju lets out moans of pleasure, but you know she’s still in control, even as she’s barely holding it together.

"Now... you’re going to watch," she says, her voice breathy but full of authority. "I’m going to do whatever I want... and you'll just keep lying like this, holding on, like the good boy you are."

You try to grip her buttocks, but Hyeju won’t allow it, pushing your hands away again with a smack, harder this time. "No! I already told you... I'm the only one who can move here."

She speeds up, riding you with force and precision, and you feel on the brink of collapse, pleasure reaching an almost unbearable level. "Damn, Hyeju... you’re going to kill me like this."

She laughs aloud, glancing over her shoulder with that smug smile. "Kill you? I haven’t even started. You’re going to beg for more before I’m done."

Her hips start moving more violently, the wet sound of her body slamming against yours filling the space. The sight of her, those perfect hips, the way she rides with mastery—all of it is a reminder of how completely she dominates you. Hyeju leans slightly forward, bracing her hands on your thighs to gain more balance, and starts dictating the rhythm with unyielding strength, and you get lost in the sight of her pussy going in and out of your cock.

"Tell me, you scoundrel," she says between moans, "do you like being like this? Completely submissive? Seeing that I do whatever I want with you?"

"You know I love it," you respond with difficulty, the moans mixing with your words. "There’s nothing better than being your toy."

She smiles, satisfied, and speeds up even more, the pace now frantic. "That’s how I like it... you adoring me, serving me…" Suddenly, she pauses for a moment, and you can barely breathe from the accumulated desire. Hyeju looks over her shoulder, a mischievous smile on her face. "Now, smack my ass," she commands, her voice full of command. "I want to see if you have the guts to give me what I deserve."

Hyeju moans loudly when the sound of the first smack reverberates through the room, the shock spreading warmth through her body that seems to fuel her. She doesn’t slow down; on the contrary, with each thrust, she presses her hips harder against you, riding even harder as if the smacks were the spark missing to ignite something primal in her.

"Yes!" she shouts, eyes closed in pure pleasure. "More! Don’t stop!"

You obey, your hand finding the soft skin of her ass with a crack. The second smack is even stronger, making her whole body shake, but Hyeju only laughs through her moans, grinding on you, her hips rolling with a mastery that drives you to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck, that’s what I want!" Hyeju demands, looking over her shoulder with a smile that mixes pleasure and challenge. "Hit me harder, don’t hold back. You like seeing my ass marked, don’t you? Go on, hit harder!"

You smirk. "Begging, Hyeju? I thought you were the one in control."

"I’m the one who calls the shots here. And I’m telling you to hit harder!" Her voice is a mix of command and desire, her body moving with an intensity that makes you tremble with pleasure.

Your hand comes down with force again, the smack echoing even louder this time. Hyeju arches her back, moaning so deeply it seems she’s losing herself in her own domination. Her ass jiggles with the impact, but she keeps riding, the sound of bodies colliding louder than ever.

"Go, don’t stop!" she shouts, moving her hips like a machine, not missing a beat for a second. "I want to feel your cock and your hands at the same time! Make me feel like I’m your owner... because I am!"

You don’t hesitate, your hand striking her ass again and again, the sound of smacks mixing with Hyeju’s desperate moans. She doesn’t stop riding; every hit on her skin makes her moan louder, her breathing ragged and movements almost frenzied now. She’s in complete control, even while begging for more.

"More! It’s not enough!" she shouts, her body shaking wildly, hair flying as she rides you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. "Hit me until I can’t take anymore!"

You feel her body trembling around yours; each smack you deliver seems to bring her closer to an insane climax, but she doesn’t slow down. On the contrary, she grips you with an intensity that makes your head spin, the wet sounds of her pussy, the smacks and bodies colliding all you can hear.

"You’re going crazy, aren’t you?" Hyeju taunts between moans, her breath labored but her voice still firm. "I can see it on your face… Mmm, it turns me on so much that you obey me without hesitation, you're so fucking pathetic.”

"Yeah! I’d do anything for you, Hyeju."

She laughs, her satisfaction evident on her face. "I know you would. And you will. Right now."

Suddenly, Hyeju stops riding and quickly gets up, pulling your cock out of her. The emptiness is immediate and almost unbearable, but before you can protest, she turns, facing you, and deftly removes her panties and tosses them aside; without wasting any time, she climbs onto your chest, her knees braced at your sides, with that look of pure authority. Her gaze drops to your face, and you know exactly what comes next.

Hyeju doesn’t even need to speak.

"Open that fucking mouth and do as I say,” she commands, looking directly into your eyes.

She slowly lowers herself, her pulsing pussy hovering over your face, and you obey without hesitation. Your mouth finds her center of pleasure, your tongue sliding between the warm lips as you suck and lick with devotion, her taste filling your senses. Hyeju’s body trembles at the first touch, but she remains in control, pressing her hips down to force you to lick deeper.

"Ah, that... that’s how I like it," Hyeju moans, her voice filled with pleasure. "Don’t stop..."

You move your tongue with precision, exploring every part of her juicy pussy, sucking harder as your hands reach up to grab her ass, squeezing it as if it were your anchor. Hyeju moans louder, her body moving to the rhythm she dictates, grinding against your face, her moans now uninhibited.

"That’s it... keep going... Faster!" she cries, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head against her as she writhes in pleasure. "You love doing this, don’t you? Say it... say you love the taste of your owner."

You try to respond, but the words get lost as you lick more intensely, your mouth fully occupied in fulfilling her every command. Hyeju laughs, pleased with your dedication, but doesn’t let up the pressure. She moves up and down on your face, grinding herself harder each time, as her body nears its climax.

"Ah, fuck... you’re perfect," she moans, breathless, her whole body trembling. "I’m going to cum... and you’re going to swallow every drop of my juice, got it? You’re going to savor your owner like never before."

You can only groan in response, your mouth trapped in the frenzy of her body. Hyeju begins to move faster, her moans becoming almost screams, her hands still gripping your hair tightly as her body trembles above you.

“Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum in your mouth! That's it! Suck my pussy, don't stop!”

She’s completely out of control, her moans filling the room as she cums in your mouth with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

"That’s it... swallow it all… fuck!" Hyeju screams, her body shaking with spasms. "Taste your owner... every drop!"

You do exactly what she wants, drinking her juice, sucking every part of her as Hyeju comes down from her climax, her movements finally slowing The taste of her pussy fills your mouth, along with the smell in your nose, and you can’t help but feel satisfaction from having brought her to this point.

Hyeju collapses beside you on the bed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tries to catch her breath. But the smile on her face is one of pure satisfaction. Without a word, she leans over, her gaze fixed on yours, and in a slow, deliberate motion, kisses you deeply, her tongue finding yours, tasting herself in your mouth.

"Mmm... so good," Hyeju murmurs against your lips, chuckling. "That's my taste you're savoring... and I want you to never forget it. Every time you serve me, it’ll be like this... I'll reward you."

She lightly bites your lower lip, her gaze gleaming with pure mischief but also a hidden tenderness behind her control. "You did so fucking well, but there's still more. I can't get enough of using you. Now, tell me... how did it feel? I want to hear."

You take a deep breath, still recovering. "It was... damn, it was like I was in heaven and hell at the same time. And I’d do it all over again, just to see you like that."

Hyeju smiles, her gaze satisfied and possessive. "I know you would. Because you know I’m everything you need." She pauses for a moment, eyes locked on yours, before adding with a devilish smile, "If I let you, you'd spend the rest of the night licking my pussy. Confess."

Your breathing gets heavy, your fingers sliding down her back, and you can't help but respond. "Fuck, Hyeju, I'd do it all day if you wanted."

"I know you would. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen now."

She starts to move, positioning herself over you, and suddenly, you understand exactly what she wants. Hyeju lifts one leg, turning her body to face away from you, getting on her knees over your head again, but this time she leans forward, her hands already reaching for your still-hard cock. You feel her warm breath close, desire building in the air around you.

"Time for 69, baby," she murmurs, her voice both sweet and commanding. "I’m going to use you again... and you’re going to worship me like I deserve."

Without waiting for a response, Hyeju lowers her hips, pressing her pussy directly against your mouth once more, her scent consuming you. At the same time, she grips your cock with one hand, not hesitating to slide her mouth over it, sucking with that same devotion you felt before. But now, the rhythm is different—more controlled, slower, as if she’s savoring every second.

"Ah, yes... so good," she moans between sucks, her words muffled by your cock in her mouth. "You love it when I suck, don’t you? Say it!"

You try to speak, but your mouth is occupied, licking and sucking her pussy like your life depends on it. Each movement of your tongue seems to make her body tremble, and Hyeju responds by riding your face with more intensity, while her mouth moves slowly down your cock, deeper each time, reaching her throat.

She pauses for a moment, pulling your cock out of her mouth just to speak, her voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so delicious. I’ll never get tired of doing this to you... never."

Hyeju returns to sucking with more intensity, her tongue swirling around the tip, her moans blending with the wet sounds of the blowjob as you keep licking her pussy. Her legs tremble around your head, her body tensing with pleasure, but she doesn’t stop for a second. Even in the midst of an imminent climax, she keeps control, her moans getting louder but never losing that authoritative tone.

"Yes... make me come again, damn it!" Hyeju demands, her voice full of lust. "I want to feel your tongue inside me, until I come in your mouth again."

You obey, moving your tongue with more precision, sucking harder as Hyeju shivers above you. She resumes devouring your cock, sucking with an insane devotion, every movement of her mouth bringing you closer to your own climax. But you know the focus right now is her—Hyeju is in control, and she’ll make sure you know that until the last second.

Hyeju begins to lose control as the rhythm between you intensifies. The heat of her wet pussy pulses against your face, her skin growing hotter as her movements become more desperate, almost frenzied. The pleasure you give her with your tongue pushes her to a point where all her dominance blends with raw vulnerability, visible in the increasingly hoarse moans she lets out.

"Ah... fuck... yes..." Hyeju moans, her voice almost breaking as she keeps grinding against you, her legs trembling around your head. She tries to maintain control, to hold onto her dominance, but you sense that she’s on the verge of completely losing herself in the pleasure you’re giving her. "Don’t... don’t stop... make me come aga—oh fuck!"

Your tongue works with precision, every lick and suck sending Hyeju deeper into this spiral of ecstasy. She tries to keep sucking you, but her movements become uncoordinated, as if the pleasure is stripping away her ability to focus on anything but what she's feeling. Even so, she still tries, her warm mouth wrapping around your cock as her hands attempt to maintain rhythm, though it's clear she’s being overtaken by sensation.

"Ah... fuck... you... you drive me crazy..." Hyeju murmurs, her breath ragged, her moans growing louder as the pressure of her hips against your face increases. "I... I can’t... ahhh...!"

Hyeju starts grinding uncontrollably against your tongue, her movements erratic as pleasure consumes her. She tries to speak, but the words get lost in louder and louder moans, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her mouth barely manages to stay on your cock, the rhythm completely broken, with muffled moans escaping with each attempt at a suck.

"I... fuck, I’m going to come again..." she cries out, her voice loud and hoarse, almost desperate. "Don’t... don’t stop! I’m going... I’m going to come in your mouth again!"

Hyeju leans forward more, her legs trembling around your head, her body on the brink of collapsing under the weight of pleasure. You feel the exact moment when she loses all control. Hyeju’s body arches violently, her muscles contracting with incredible force, and she lets out a scream that echoes through the room as the orgasm tears through her with almost brutal intensity.

"Ahhh... fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hyeju screams, her head thrown back as her hands grip the sheets tightly. Her pussy pulses against your mouth, and you taste the hot rush of her climax on your tongue once again. Hyeju grinds uncontrollably against your face, moaning loudly as pleasure fully overtakes her.

"That’s it... swallow it all... feel me..." Hyeju commands, even as her body trembles uncontrollably. "I... I want to feel you devouring me... I need more... ahh, more!"

Her moans become almost incoherent, and you feel each shudder running through her body as she continues to come intensely, fully giving herself to the sensation. The pressure of her thighs around your head is almost suffocating, but the sound of Hyeju’s screams of pleasure, combined with her desperate movements, makes it all worth it.

She tries to stay steady, but her body gives in to the pleasure and collapses onto you, her hips still lightly moving as the aftershocks of her climax ripple through her skin. Hyeju’s mouth lets go of your cock, now forgotten as she struggles to regain control over herself.

"Fuck... that was..." Hyeju can barely form words between gasps, moans still escaping involuntarily. She leans back, slowly lifting her pussy off your mouth, her muscles still quivering, but a satisfied smile on her face.

You're breathing heavily, lungs burning as you catch your breath. Her taste still lingers on your tongue, and the memory of those last moments is seared into your mind. You take a deep breath, relieved yet wishing it hadn’t ended. The intensity of her pressure, combined with the thrill of nearly suffocating while making her climax, has left you in a nearly unbearable state of excitement.

"Wow, Hyeju... I almost came just from feeling you like that," you say with a raspy laugh, your voice still broken by the lack of air.

Hyeju, still recovering, turns to you. "Oh yeah? You almost came, did you?" She chuckles softly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe you like seeing me like this, huh? Losing control because of you."

She leans closer, hand brushing your jaw as her lips near yours, giving you a soft kiss. "But... you haven't come yet, and I'm not done playing with you."

Hyeju slowly stands, giving you a perfect view of her body, her skin glistening with sweat. You notice her gaze fixed on your hard cock, and the way she bites her lip makes it clear she already has something in mind.

"Stand up," she commands, and you obey without hesitation, feeling the anticipation build in your chest.

Hyeju turns her back to you, her perfect ass arched and inviting. Her body presses against yours in a way that’s almost suffocatingly delicious. Your hands naturally find her breasts, and you grab them firmly, feeling their weight and softness as your fingers brush her hard nipples.

"Now... pay attention, because I'm going to make you beg," Hyeju whispers, tilting her head back, the lobe of her ear brushing lightly against your lips. She slides a hand down, guiding your cock between her thighs, squeezing it between the soft, sweaty flesh. The heat of her body and the pressure of her tanned thighs make you let out an involuntary moan.

"Damn... this feels so good," you murmur, your voice coming out lower than expected, as the wet heat of her thighs envelops your cock. Every little movement she makes, slowly grinding, is a slow but delicious torture.

Hyeju starts to tease with small hip movements as she tightens you between her legs. "I know," she replies, her tone almost arrogant. "I know exactly what you like. You're trembling. Is it from wanting me so much? From being desperate to come." She squeezes more, and you moan again, feeling the pressure build as she continues to tease. "You're going to come on my thighs... and you're going to love it," Hyeju continues, moving her body with a precision that makes you see stars. Every muscle contraction around your cock brings you closer to losing control, but she doesn’t let you relax. Every time you get too close, she slows down, chuckling softly as she keeps torturing you with her body.

Your fingers tighten around her breasts, and you lean forward to kiss Hyeju’s neck, gently biting the sweaty skin, then licking; licks that melt Hyeju, tilting her neck to the side so you have full access to her delicate skin, to worship her as she deserves… All this while the feeling of being trapped between her thighs pushes you closer to madness. "Hyeju, I’ll come if you keep this up... it’s too much."

She lets out a low, teasing laugh, the sound echoing in your mind. "That's exactly what I want! I want all your load on my thighs!" She picks up the pace, her hips circling in small, precise movements.

You moan louder, starting to grind your hips frantically, pushing your cock between her thighs, brushing against Hyeju's wet pussy with a desperate fervor. The friction is maddening, each motion pulling a moan from you that echoes through the room.

"Fuck, Hyeju... I... I'm gonna come..." you murmur, words broken by pleasure as your hands slide from her breats to her hips, gripping her tightly as you rub faster, your swollen cock pressing against the lips of her pussy, each pulsating heat of contact pushing you over the edge.

"Go ahead, baby... show me how much you want me," she responds, her voice sweet yet with that underlying malice, almost daring you to lose control entirely. "Come for me... I want to feel how much you adore me."

Your body completely loses control. With each erratic thrust between her sweaty, tight thighs, you feel the pressure build to an unbearable level. Every frantic movement of your hips pulls another moan from you, a clear sign that you're teetering on the brink of no return. The soft, slippery friction of her thighs gripping your cock tightly.

"Yes, baby... I want to feel it all," Hyeju whispers with that malice, grinding relentlessly. The heat radiating from her makes your head spin. And she's loving every second of it. "I want to feel you explode. Come for me."

You moan, voice thick with desire and desperation. The rhythm of your thrusts becomes uncoordinated, desperate, as if your body has completely lost the ability to keep any cadence.

Your cock presses deeper between her thighs, sliding against the wetness already mingling with precum. Each time you feel her pussy getting closer, the pulsing heat makes you moan louder. Hyeju's pace remains relentless, her movements precise as she revels in your desperation.

“I want to feel every drop of your hot load dripping down my thighs." She tilts her head back, laughing as she senses the power she has over you, and it only heightens your urgency.

You lose the last bit of self-control. With a final thrust, your cock presses harder between Hyeju’s thighs, nearly slipping into her pussy.

"Oh, fuck Hyeju! I'm... I'm cumming!" you shout, voice overtaken by pure pleasure. The climax hits you like a violent wave, and you let out a deep moan, your whole body tensing. The orgasm slams through you with brutal force, and your hands clutch Hyeju's body tightly, holding her desperately as your cock pulses between her thighs.

Hyeju lets out a satisfied moan, squeezing her thighs around you as she feels the hot cum spill, running down her legs. "Yes... just like that, baby. Come for me. Give me everything." Her voice is low, almost a whisper, but full of control as she keeps grinding slowly, prolonging your orgasm.

You're in bliss, every fiber of your body vibrating with pleasure that feels unending. The stream of cum drips down Hyeju’s thighs, and you feel the hot wetness sliding down her sweaty skin. Your hands grip her even tighter, as if trying to anchor yourself as your world spins with overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh, baby... I can’t take anymore... My cock is so fucking sensitive," you groan, barely able to form coherent sentences as her body continues to drain you completely.

Hyeju laughs softly, pleased with the state she's left you in. "I told you I wanted every drop, didn’t I?" She squeezes her thighs one last time, pulling the last shivers from your body. "You came so hard for me baby, good job! You are such a good boy…" You let out an exhausted moan, body still trembling as the final wave of pleasure courses through you. Hyeju, satisfied, smiles and turns around. "You're done... but you liked it, didn’t you? Tell me, baby."

"Yes... yes. I loved it... you destroyed me," you reply, voice still shaking.

Hyeju leans in to give you a deep, warm kiss. Her lips press against yours with a mix of sweetness and possessiveness, as if sealing what just happened.

"I loved putting you in your place," she whispers, her thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, wiping away a bit of saliva. "Seeing you lose control like that… there’s nothing better."

You smile, still panting, your head spinning with exhaustion and pleasure. "Damn, I loved that lesson... I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good being put in my place."

She raises an eyebrow, amused, and lightly drags her nails down your back, sending a shiver that makes you flinch slightly. "Good to know you’ve learned. And the next time I'm pissed... well, I know where I'll take it out."

"Anytime you want. If you need someone to take it out on... I’m available."

Hyeju laughs, pleased with your response, and gives you another kiss. "Oh, baby, you're easy to break... and I love that.”

You're leaning against the window, taking a drag from your cigarette, watching the city below as the buildings flicker their lights like they’re laughing at your somewhat… peculiar life. The room is wrapped in a cozy dimness, and the sound of the shower turning off fills the quiet. Then, Hyeju steps out of the bathroom, wearing one of your shirts that looks more like a dress on her. You admire her as she approaches, hair still damp, her skin glowing from the hot water. She stops halfway and raises an eyebrow.

“What are you staring at?” she asks, her voice thick with exhaustion as she dries her hair with a towel.

“I’m just… happy I managed to convince you to stay,” you reply.

“Oh, really? You think you convinced me? I only stayed because I’m dead tired. Going home right now would be asking to pass out on the subway.”

She steps closer, takes the cigarette from your hand without asking, takes a long drag, and then hands it back, heading back to toss the towel in the bathroom. “And don’t think this is going to become a habit. This sleeping-together thing… it’s a one-time deal.”

“Of course, of course,” you respond, stubbing out the cigarette and moving towards the bed. “Just this once, I promise.”

She turns off the bathroom light and shuts the door, leaving the room partially dark, and as she fluffs up the pillows, you let out: “Since it’s just this once, would it be okay if I… lay on your chest?”

She looks over at you with a mix of disbelief and sarcasm. “You’re asking to use my chest as a pillow? Are you serious?”

“Completely,” you answer, lying down beside her. “They’re way softer than any pillow. A once-in-a-lifetime chance, as you said.”

“Fine, go ahead. But only because it’s the first and last time,” she accepts as she throws herself on the bed, feeling the weight of tiredness.

You cheer and kiss her cheek before turning off the lamp. With a contented sigh, you lie down next to Hyeju and rest your head on her chest, feeling a warmth and softness that puts any five-star hotel pillow to shame.

“Mmm, you’re very comfortable,” you murmur, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, her hand already moving to your hair, giving you a clumsy head scratch, as though she might stop at any moment, but unable to help herself.

“That’s nice; don’t stop,” you whisper, eyes closed.

“Say it one more time, and I’ll stop,” she replies, but the scratching continues.

A pleasant silence settles over you both until, after a few minutes, Hyeju breaks the moment, suddenly asking:

“You know something?” she begins, her voice softer than before. “My chest is definitely better than Miyeon’s for sleeping, right? Just compare the sizes.”

You chuckle softly, head still buried against her. “Absolutely. No contest.”

She smiles, satisfied, letting out a small sigh of triumph. “I knew it.”

“And let me say,” you start, your voice drowsy but playful, “it’s true you lost the competition to her, but in bed… no doubt, you won.”

“Yeah, right? That’s really an honor. Too bad it doesn’t pay the bills.”

You smile, pressing a little closer to her, absorbing her warmth. “Look, after tonight, I’ll make it up to you. Next week, I’m giving an interview about the great photographers of this generation… and I’ll be sure to talk about a certain Hyeju. Praise her work and invite people to check it out, too.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Mr. Art Critic. What would I do without this boost?”

“That’s what I want to know,” you reply in a tone that’s exaggeratedly serious but teasing. “But seriously, I’m excited to work with you. I bet after spending time alone… you’ll want to work with me again.”

“Oh yeah? And if I want to punch you after two hours alone? Does that count as ‘wanting to work together again’?”

You snicker. “Hey, maybe that’s part of the creative process?”

Hyeju sighs, visibly tired but also amused by the whole thing. “Okay, now shut up. Seriously. I want to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, obedient but with a hint of playfulness in your voice.

The room falls silent again, but you can’t shake the need to bother her just a little more.

“Hey, Hyeju,” you say softly.

She lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“What now?”

“Hug me tighter. Please…”

Hyeju shakes her head, incredulous, and you can almost feel her eye-rolling even without seeing it. “If you open your mouth one more time, I’ll gag you.”

You can’t resist.

“Note to self: buy a gag for Hyeju to use on me.”

She gives you a light slap on the shoulder, but in the end, her arms pull you closer, wrapping you tighter, her body relaxing against yours.

And in the quiet that follows, with only the sound of her heartbeat and gentle breathing, sleep finally begins to claim you both. There’s something about this—this way you have of bickering and laughing at the same time—that, just before drifting off, makes you realize that, in the end, maybe this will be the best partnership of your career.

And her?

Well, by the way she’s holding you, even with her tough-girl act, maybe she’s not all that bothered either.

[stra-tek]

This is one of the greatest things ever. Walk around every single version of the U.S.S. Enterprise in photorealistic 3D in your browser, from the Roddenberry Archive. On a phone you just see wraparound 3D pics. On a PC or laptop you get the full 3D interactive experience. They NEED to make this VR compatible, it'll be beyond words.

There are more Enterprises here than Tumblr will allow me photos of, and more will likely be added.

Here's the TOS Enterprise, which appears in several incarnations ("The Cage", "Where No Man Has Gone Before" and TOS proper as well as TAS with the second turbolift!), has the correct original graphics and is perfect.

This is the bridge from the unmade Star Trek: Phase II series (whose pilot episode "In Thy Image" was rewritten to become Star Trek: The Motion Picture), with it's legendary big comfy command sofa seat and tactical display bubble!

The Motion Picture, such an accurate recreation that there's even a very faint flicker on the rear-projection animated screens as seen in the movie.

Enterprise NX-01, looking exactly as it did in "Broken Bow"

Recognise this? It's the briefing room of Discovery season 2's version of the U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701. Although at the front of the saucer on the "real" ship, here it's off the second bridge door which may well be where the set was IRL.

I wasn't expecting modern Trek to be represented equally as the originals in this project, but it is. This is the Enterprise from Strange New Worlds, with Pike's Ready Room located just off the bridge.

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier. My favourite version of the classic bridge, as a kid I drew all these control panels and stuck them on my bedroom walls. And now I can look around and look at them all close-up! They've even replicated the noticable TVs stuffed into the panels for the more complex animated screens.

The Enterprise-C bridge from "Yesterday's Enterprise". This one has always fascinated me, being a low-budget TV set (formerly the Enterprise-D battle bridge, originally built from the rain-damaged TMP set's back wall and redressed endlessly though TNG) representing TNG's immediate predecessor. In the episode they mostly shoot the back wall and imply the consoles make a huge circle, but here you can see the set's real dimensions and the weirdness of the classic movie helm/nav console in front of the TNG con/ops panels. I love it.

You know how much I love the Kelvin movies, so seeing this was amazing. For some reason the consoles don't have their screens lit (hopefully this'll be fixed soon), but you can see the saucer under the window and it's shiny and amazing.

The last thing I expected was the U.S.S. Titan-A/Enterprise-G bridge, but it's here. And the lights are on.

Other bridges available to explore which I'm out of pictures to show: The Enterprise-D (of course), Enterprise XCV-330 (the ringship, based on concept art for the unmade non-Trek series "Starship"), the Planet of the Titans U.S.S. Enterprise (again, based on concept art for a cool multi-levelled set) and the "launch" U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 (based on the very first piece of TOS bridge set concept art), the Enterprise-E, the Enterprise-F (seen on viewscreen for all of 2 minutes in Picard) and the U.S.S. Voyager NCC-74656!

Take a bow lads, you've done good. Now just add VR support!

That link again.

[foxy-eva]

Dad!Spencer Headcanons

(requested by anon for my New Year's Celebration)

Spencer could not be happier when you tell him that you're ready to have kids. He always wanted to be a father.

When the baby is born he goes on parental leave to be able to spend as much time with his family as possible. He might even decide to take time off from the BAU and take on a teaching position so he can be there more.

He is so excited to finally be a dad and reads every book about parenting he can find.

He proves to be a great dad from day one. You can always rely on him to be there for you and your child.

He is used to an irregular sleeping schedule due to his job so it doesn't bother him to get up at night to take care of his kid.

It doesn't take too long until you decide you want to have another child and Spencer is just as excited as the first time to start this journey again.

He loves to read or recite children's books to his kids and they love listening to his voice. Soon they start sharing his love for books.

Spencer loves to watch them grow up and learn new things. His eyes are always filled with wonder and adoration when he sees their unique way of discovering the world.

He is really involved in his children's lives. They feel very safe with him and always tell him when something is on their mind. It warms your heart to see how much they trust him.

He keeps every single drawing and art piece they make. He would never throw away anything his kids created.

He loves to spoil his kids and he has a hard time saying no when they ask for something while looking at him with their big eyes. Sometimes you have to remind him to not overdo it.

Spending quality time with his family is really important to Spencer. It quickly becomes a family tradition to do some fun activities on weekends.

He makes sure that his children can explore different kinds of activities to find out what they like and what talents they have. It doesn't matter if it's art, music or sports, he will be there to support them.

Other kids from the neighbourhood or from school are always welcome at your house. Spencer really likes to entertain his kids' friends with little magic shows. He wants his children to have everything he missed out on as a kid.

Spencer has a hard time letting his children go when they grow older and need him less. He accepts it of course but sometimes he wishes that they would stay little forever.

If you liked this post you should check out my Pregnancy Headcanons and my Family Time Headcanons!

Please make sure to like, reblog and comment. Your support really helps me to come up with more stories!

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @khyleereads

[zoppa682]

For any nonhumans struggling with species dysphoria, I want to help you all as much as I can. I've been experiencing it all week. It can be quite exhausting and put you in a lot of distress, in my case. X(

Here are some tips I'd recommend to help:

1. Mimic the diet of your kintype/theriotype. You are a shark? Eat seafood. A dragon? Maybe try to burn some food a little (or turn it black like my own preference if you want). You kin a character from [Insert source]? Try recreating foods/dishes from their world or dimension.

2. Listen to relatable music. I'd recommend making a playlist of any songs that feel species affirming/euphoric, or even echo that dysphoria further, therefore turning it relatable. (Few of my favorites are Bones by Imagine Dragons, Control by Halsey, Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA, Momento Mori by Fish in a Birdcage, among other songs that feel therian coded to me).

3. Do vocals. Howling, barking, screeching, or roaring are very relieving if you are in the correct space to do them! If you are in a quite space or do not want to out yourself to anyone, try purring, growling, hissing, or other unnoticeable sounds. You have an object kintype? Mimic the sounds of the object, like beeping, clicking, etc. (I personally make microwave sounds just because it is fun). Recite voice lines of your kintype from the source they are in. Mimic their voice and volume to match.

4. Move and physically act like your kintype/theriotype. Quadrobics, mimic the flapping of wings, walk bidepedally, whatever you do, turn your mannerisms and motion to reflect your kintype/theriotype.

5. Dress like your kintype/theriotype. Is your kintype a character? Cosplay them, or mimic their clothing style, clothing color, hairstyle, etc. If they have tattoos, scars, or patterns on their body, copy them on your physical form with paint or pens. (PLEASE USE NON TOXIC MATERIALS. STUFF SAFE FOR YOUR HUMAN SKIN.) Are you a species of animal(s)? Dress in your species' colors, or, once again, paint or color yourself like it/them. Are you perhaps any other form of creature or object? You can use the same tips as the others, and another idea that works for all is that you can buy costume pieces of your kintype/theriotype. Masks, headbands, just normal clothing in general, the options really are infinite.

6. Express your dysphoria through artwork. I love doing art when I am heavily species dysphoric. Drawing, crafting masks, origami, painting, collages, all are forms of art. If you are skilled in music, then you could even create some songs of your own!

7. Go out and explore nature. This one is mainly targeted towards therians, whose types are grounded on the life on earth rather than other dimensions or universes, but just like the other methods, it can be universally used by any types of nonhumans. Collecting things is my favorite way of exploring nature. Collect rocks, shells, sticks, leaves, bugs, plants, anything that makes you feel more comfortable in your own (unfortunate) physical body. Stay grounded in the world around you and you may find the dysphoria slips away. Hiking and going on short walks can also help, building a den, smelling the scents of the outdoors. All great ideas that I personally recommend.

8. Write about your feelings. Whether you are good at expressing yourself through poetry, you keep a diary/journal, or you can project onto OCs for new backstory lore like I do, writing can truly help with any dysphoria. Not only that, but it is sometimes refreshing to come back later and read about what you were feeling before. It can serve as a great reminder that you are a powerful being and you will always overcome the feelings if you try.

9. Research about your kintype/theriotype. It does not matter if you are an animal, concept, or object from earth, a being from fantasy, or a character from the greatest book or show, you learn something new every day. So why not learn about yourself? Read books or watch animal documentaries of your theriotype(s), same thing for you otherkins and your fantasy species. Fictionkins can look up facts about themself as a character, their book, show, game, etc.

10. Talk and interact with other alterhumans/nonhumans. Remember, we are a community, and while you are experiencing horrible episodes of species dysphoria, there are many other beings going through the exact same thing at the exact same time. So why not talk to them about it? Share your experiences, help eachother cope, you may even connect with more individuals that way, building more relationships with others and meeting new beings.

11. Past life meditation. If you are a nonhuman who has a past life/lives, you may find comfort in meditation, where you can truly tap into what you once were, and still are in this life as well. Look to the forgotten, and turn in to remembered. Open up your past and live over again.

12. Listen to sounds. Nature sounds, voices of other characters you know from your world, vocals or sound effects of your kintype. These are all good options to turn to if you want to feel at ease with yourself.

13. Let your emotions out. Sometimes this is all you really need to do when species dysphoria hits hard. Cry, bite things, claw at pillows, LET IT OUT. There is absolutely no problem in being yourself and expressing your heavy emotions in your own, unique, nonhuman way. You may find you feel much better after.

That's all I've got, but I hope whoever/whatever reads this far has an amazing day/night. You are an amazing being, thank you for embracing yourself and living authentically. <3

[johannestevans]

Addressing Common Arguments Against “Consuming Harmful Content”

Challenging purity culture in online spaces and their fears of “problematic media”.

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Photo by Ethan Will via Pexels.

Constant and continuous arguments endure on social media about the dreaded and frightening spectre of problematic media — from television shows that supposedly “glorify” unhealthy relationships or “sexualise” and “excuse” abusive relationships; to erotica, adult books, and 18+ fanfiction that supposedly teach teenagers bad life lessons and impact their ethics; to anime and manga that surely must be the cause of child abuse the world over. 

I wrote an in-depth essay about the intellectual flaws in these reactionary assumptions, delving into their roots in lacking media literacy and rising anti-sex attitudes here: 

The above essay discusses at length many of the fears and anxieties that lead to this reactionary thinking, but does not challenge or explore the echo chambers that can arise in online spaces, particularly in aggressive environments such as Twitter/X, and for young or isolated individuals who are particularly vulnerable to peer pressure and fears of ostracisation if they admit to the “wrong” opinions.

Many of these arguments are used by “anti-shippers” within fandom and online spaces, the term commonly shortened as “antis” — if you’re unfamiliar with the term, these are people who define themselves as opposing one or more specific ships, fandoms, tropes, or kinks, often due to what they perceive to be their “problematic” or inherently “harmful” elements when engaged with or portrayed in various forms of media and art. Because of the virulent and highly aggressive nature of these online communities, these people — many of them young or isolated, often marginalised and disenfranchised from in-person, supportive environments — can become radicalised, and can experience great fear and anxiety at the premise of others holding different opinions or perspectives from the ones these online communities have impressed upon them should be held immutably by all.

In this piece I’m going to be addressing common arguments and assumptions seen on social media one by one — it is not really intended to convert the above, often radicalised individuals, but to provide support and guidance in understanding why their perspectives can be flawed, and how to engage with and deconstruct those arguments. 

It is also intended to provide support and structure to begin to engage with and potentially challenge or affirm your own beliefs and ideas about fiction, art, and other forms of media, and the extent of the impact it can have on you or others — this piece is me addressing these arguments with my own perspective, but I would encourage people to disagree with and critique my rebuttals!

The goal here is always more critical thought, analysis, and understanding, and that doesn’t come from automatically following another person’s line of thought or argument just because it’s well-poised or you particularly respect or like them — no matter who that person or people may be. 

--

“Depicting [a theme] in media is the same as glorifying it!”

Let’s first engage with what people might be discussing when they panic about “harmful content” and “problematic” ships or pieces of fiction.

They might worry about people reading or watching works that discuss or depict anything from violence, incest, sexual assault, age gaps, BDSM, kinky sex, child sexual abuse, trauma recovery, rape, rape recovery, drug use, bestiality, to abusive relationships or anything else, will encourage people to think positively about those acts, those traumas, and those experiences. 

You might look at the list of things I just wrote there and go, “Um, there are big differences between some of those things and the others!”

And yet the same consideration still applies. 

Just because a theme or idea is present in a work, or is depicted in it implicitly or explicitly, doesn’t mean it’s being “glorified” and portrayed as overwhelmingly positive — and even if a theme or aspect is being glorified, this does not mean we shall simply unthinkingly absorb that perspective.

Reading a story that contains something doesn’t mean I’ll automatically think that thing is good or bad, regardless of how it’s portrayed in fiction — the media and art we engage with doesn’t wholly change and adjust our own ethics and morals as soon as we’ve interacted with it. 

We might play a videogame and disagree with the way some themes are presented, have criticisms of them, whilst enjoying and appreciating others; we might read a piece of erotica and find some parts about it very hot, but find others disturbing and a little uncomfortable; we might watch a TV show and just think it’s in very poor taste, despite theoretically being up for the premise. 

Engaging with media does not turn off and on switches in our brains that make us completely “pro” or completely “anti” one premise or other. 

People are more complicated than that. 

We have complex and layered feelings about every argument and perspective there is, every experience there is, because human beings are social animals, and we experience very few things through an uncomplicated, binary lens. 

For me personally, I often seek out works that cover the same traumas and harms I’ve experienced — why? Because seeking out those themes helps me process and better understand what has happened to me, and how I’ve felt about it, how I’ve responded. 

“I don’t have a problem with people writing about certain harmful topics to show them as bad, but some people sexualise or fetishise them!”

I’m sure you’re right. 

Some people might write about rape to work out a complex trauma recovery narrative — others might write about rape in a work as kink. An author might well write with both goals in mind in the same work. 

A traumatic event doesn’t become less traumatic because it sexually aroused us or brought us physical pleasure — in fact, those feelings can add to the impact of a trauma and the inner conflict we experience in the aftermath. 

Some people undercut victims of sexual abuse by saying they “enjoyed” it, pointing out that they orgasmed or showed signs of arousal as signs they “secretly” wanted it, and these feelings can contribute heavily to shame and fear as a victim. 

Sexual arousal is a bodily response. It is not consent, and it’s not an excuse for assault or abuse. Moreover, some people might feel arousal or pleasure but not be fit to consent — for example, if someone is underage, or if someone is drugged or insensible with drink. 

These people cannot give knowledgeable consent, but abusers might still say after an assault that they “enjoyed” it. 

This is purity culture at work — anti-sex attitudes use people’s “enjoyment” of something to undercut their autonomy and right to consent, by implying they “deserve” that abuse — abuse is abuse whether it’s sexualised or not. 

But the thing is, the obverse applies. 

Just as someone’s mixed feelings or sensations of pleasure during a sexual assault does not mean they consented to the assault, or because someone’s feelings of happiness and love for their abuser does not mean they deserved the abusive treatment they experienced from them, a person writing sexually or erotically about a topic, or engaging with art and narratives about that topic, does not mean they actually want that thing to happen in real life, to real people, or to themselves. 

Fiction is not real life. 

We watch a horror film, and it doesn’t mean we want serial killers or demons to run amok, killing teenagers or possessing their victims — similarly, just because we engage with porn or erotica that sexualises certain topics doesn’t mean we’re pro- or in favour of those topics for real people. 

Rape fantasies are incredibly common, despite being highly stigmatised, and just because someone fantasises about this sort of control fantasy does not mean they actually want to abuse someone or be abused. 

“It’s harmful to depict abusive or immoral characters as sexy or desirable.”

If you have never experienced abuse, manipulation, or otherwise poor treatment from someone you thought was attractive, charming, or admirable, if you’ve never been groomed by someone with whom you were enamoured, I’m very glad. 

I’m happy for you, honestly. 

But many of us have. 

People want to believe that all abusers are evil, are ugly, are obvious from a distance, are blatant from the out. People want to believe they can “tell” someone is abusive just from a glance, and write them off — and that anyone who would or might spend time with that person is therefore “asking for it”, or “letting themselves” be abused. 

In actual fact, many abusers aren’t. 

Many abusers are beautiful and charming — some of them draw you in, slowly bring you closer and closer until it’s very difficult to untangle yourself from your need and craving for their approval. They ruin lives, ruin psyches, and they cause unspeakable damage to their victims. 

And yes, victims often feel conflicted in the aftermath of their abuse.

Many of us hero worship or greatly respect our abusers, love them very deeply, crave their good opinion, because we are carefully groomed and manipulated, over time, into relying on their praise and their attention. For victims isolated from other sources of care and support, and especially for young children and teenagers, it can be very difficult to recognise what is happening and has happened to us. 

Even after we know and understand exactly what has happened to us, and also internalised that it was wrong, we can still feel conflicted. 

We are not retroactively deserving of our abuse because we crave our abusers’ good opinion, or their love, still. This instinct does not excuse or justify the abuse we’ve experienced. Victims of abuse are still victims of abuse even if we go back to our abusers, even if we “accept” or attempt to justify our abuse to others, if we try to excuse it, if we don’t ask for help. 

Abuse is never the victim’s fault, no matter how imperfect we are as victims. 

“Writing queer characters as abusive is bad representation!”

If we exclusively write queer characters who are perfect and unimpeachable, we’re not letting ourselves write queer characters who are fully human, with all the flaws and complexities humanity comes with. 

Queer people are not less deserving of this complex representation than cishet people are — and in any case, the purpose of art and media is not exclusively to provide good representation, or to show good moral examples for others.

We create to express ourselves, to reflect the world, to critique it, laugh at it, commiserate over it, to feel our feelings, to connect and communicate with others through shared stories. 

If we only let ourselves do things that might be seen as “good rep”, we rob ourselves of the ability to express ourselves as completely as we might wish to. 

“If you write abusive queer characters, you’re just contributing to homophobia and bigotry in art and media!”

Queer people writing queer stories with queer villains is not the same as cishet people including queer people or queer-coded characters just to be villains. The power dynamic is completely different. 

Queer writers’ writing of queer villainy is often inspired by their own experiences, including of bigotry, and the harm they might do reflects harm by society, the ways harms might be felt more keenly by their victims. 

Writing queer villains as villainous because their queerness makes them (or is used as a shorthand for them being) predatory, cruel, or callous, is homophobic and is often shitty, whether people intend that or not. 

But just having queer villains, having queer characters do bad or abusive things, or just have flaws? 

That’s as much a part of queer humanity as having queer heroes and having queer characters do good and helpful things.

Why would you read about rape when you could read consensual non-consent?

[Consensual non-consent being a kink wherein partners agree to roleplay a non-consensual situation.]

Rape in fiction is a form of consensual non-consent. 

The fictional characters, who are not real and do not have real feelings, are not consenting, but the reader choosing to read is. 

In the same way that two people playing a CNC roleplay game in the bedroom might be a safe and fun way of experiencing or re-experiencing the fear and trauma of assault with an escape clause (a safeword), a reader can do the same — they can stop reading. 

If a television show, film, or videogame becomes upsetting, again, one can stop watching, stop playing. It is a person’s own responsibility to set safe boundaries for themselves and protect their own mental health. 

“Why would someone write about trauma and abuse when they could write fluff?”

Why would someone watch a horror movie when they could watch a romcom? Why would someone eat cheese when chocolate is an option?

People do not have to choose one or the other — many people like both horror films and romcoms, cheese and chocolate, and reading about both horrible shit and positive things. 

“You mentioned that people might engage with media about dark topics to work through their feelings from their own abuse. How do I know if someone’s actually been abused?”

Why do you think it’s your right to ask that? 

Why are you prioritising your personal comfort and curiosity over that person’s privacy? If your instinct is to try to license who is and isn’t allowed to engage with a piece of art or media, why? 

You are never entitled to the details of someone else’s abuse. Your validation is not important enough to potentially trade for someone’s private traumas and experiences. 

“If you write or create about certain topics as a survivor, you’re just perpetuating abuse and you are as bad as your abuser!”

Creating works of art or fiction about people who are not real experiencing fictional harm that is also not real, is not in any way equivalent to real people doing real harm to others. 

If your support of abuse survivors hinges on how palatable their reaction to their abuse is, and you believe that some abuse survivors “deserve” their abuse for depicting their abuse in art and fiction, you’re not actually supporting survivors. 

If you believe that all abuse survivors do or should act the same way, or respond the same way, to their abuses, you are mistaken. 

If you are effectively angry at someone for not looking enough like a victim, for being “impure”, and therefore the same as their abuser, that is a form of victim blaming. 

Do you hold artists who create media about non-sexual trauma or violence to a different standard than those who write about sexual trauma or violence? 

Why? What is the difference to you?

If someone writing about sexual abuse in media is equivalent to real life abuse, is a fictional murder?

“People shouldn’t write or engage with media about traumatic things, they should just go to therapy!”

Therapy is not a moral machine where bad people with bad thoughts go in and good people with good thoughts go in. 

Good therapy and counselling provides us with the tools to manage our own mental health, our own emotional and psychological needs, heal from our traumas, and so forth. 

Many therapists will actually recommend safe re-exposure to frightening or upsetting topics, and also encourage self-expression on the subject of one’s most impactful experiences, which might include creating art and media to explore and discuss their feelings. 

With that said, therapy is as flawed as any other tools for emotional catharsis and healing — therapy and mental healthcare can be very expensive or inaccessible because of one’s working schedule; some therapists and mental health professionals are abusive or bigoted; some people may not be in the right place for MH care or therapy at this time, et cetera. 

Therapy isn’t a catch-all for anything you disapprove of in someone else, and it’s also not a punishment to force someone to repent for their sins. 

“It’s okay to write a story to cope, but you shouldn’t publish it in case it upsets others!”

So long as the work has appropriate content warnings and/or is published or screened in an appropriate space, it is not inherently harmful. In fact, reading narratives and engaging with those narratives can be valuable for us. 

Engaging with media that bears similarity to our own lives, reflects our own experiences, written by other people who we know understand the complicated emotions of survivors — whilst still condemning the actions of abusers or not — can be extremely validating and offer a lot of assurance. 

This is especially useful in regards to media that shows victims having a codependent relationship with or still loving their abusers, or where their abusers are shown as sympathetic, whilst the narrative still shows the toxicity and pain caused by the relationship. 

Moreover, there can be a sense of reclamation and security in exploring stories about similar harm as we’ve experienced whilst knowing we are now in a place of safety and are free from those past experiences, or that other survivors have escaped and we can too. 

“If children read this work or watch this show or play this game, they might think that the things depicted in it are okay!”

Is the work rated G or PG? 

Is it shown on a children’s TV channel, or appear in a section that is marked for children? Is it put on a children’s website, where the primary audience is children? 

In short, is the work aimed at kids?

If no, then it’s not for kids. 

Particularly if a work is marked for adult audiences only, if it’s labelled erotica, if it’s marked M or E or NC-17, if it says it’s for adults or asks people to check a box agreeing that they’re an adult, then the work in question is most definitely not for children. 

Everything in the world doesn’t have to be child-safe just because children exist.

It is the responsibility of parents and guardians to appropriately supervise their children’s online use, and to teach children and teenagers internet safety, some of which includes setting appropriate boundaries for themselves and not seeking out content that might distress them, or to know what to do if they stumble across content that does distress them — namely, to speak with a trusted adult about their feelings and what they can do to manage them and look after themselves, and be looked after.

It’s not the responsibility of random other adults in the world not to make horror movies or watch porn or play adult videogames or anything else, just because a child could potentially learn of their existence. 

“But someone else engaging with that work might think the things depicted in it are okay!”

You’re right, they might do. 

They might also engage with the work and think things depicted in it are bad. Fiction does not exclusively exist for our moral education. 

“It makes me feel uncomfortable or unsafe that people are writing about [a topic] with a tone or in a manner that seems wrong to me!”

Yes, many of us feel uncomfortable with some topics being depicted in fiction, and might find them viscerally disgusting or triggering, consider them to be in poor taste, badly considered, or similar. 

This is normal and okay. 

It’s perfectly natural to have limits on what one can handle in fiction, or to find your ethical considerations don’t match up with the things other people make. 

But it’s our job, as responsible adults who look after our own mental health and consider our own boundaries, to avoid that content. 

You cannot control what other people think about, feel about certain topics, or how they portray them in fiction. You cannot control other people. 

You can only control your environment, your boundaries, and the works you choose to engage with. 

You can limit your time on social media, mute tags or keywords, block particular users or sites, or simply look away or leave the room / close the tab. 

“What about rampant problematic works on Ao3!?”

Works on Ao3 are not a real issue. 

They are not representation. Fanworks and original works on Ao3 are not the mainstream. They are being read exclusively by members of various internet subcultures who read fanfiction in those specific fandoms, after reading the tags. 

This doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t discuss certain tropes and norms in various fandoms — we might address our own biases around race, sexuality, religion, disability, and other characteristics, and how these biases and bigotries can come across in people’s approaches to fandom, the characters and ships they concentrate on, their headcanons, et cetera. 

The same can be said of people’s original creations. 

Ao3 has a robust tagging system, and allows people to mute and block tags they might be upset or triggered by — and in the event one clicks on an explicit work, a window will come up asking people to consent explicitly to moving through to read the work. 

It is people’s own responsibility to set their own limits as to what they can handle in reading fiction — and not to obsess over what other people might or might not be reading, which we cannot control, and is also none of our business. 

“What about loli and shotacon? Isn’t that the same as child pornography?”

“Child pornography” is generally not in use as a term — many people who have been victimised find that terms like “child porn” and CP grate, because “pornography” is work made with willing, adult participants. 

Videos and images produced of children are instead referred to either as CSAM — child sexual abuse materials — or CSEM — child sexual exploitation materials. CSEM is evil because it involves the unspeakable and agonising victimisation of a real life child or children, being abused and manipulated by adults around them, and worse than that initial victimisation, the recording their abuse is another victimisation in itself.

With every share of a piece of this material, that child or children are victimised another time, made vulnerable to more people, and the creation of this material can create more market desire, meaning that other abusers will encourage further abuse and recording of these children’s victimisation, or for the recording abusers to seek out other children to abuse. 

Victims of this sort of exploitation live in terror of the pictures or videos of their worst moments being shared to those they know, of being found by their loved ones, shared to workplaces, disseminated in any community they try to live in and be happy with — it is difficult enough to recover from one’s own abuse without the spectre of it constantly hanging over one’s head. 

People’s cartoons or art of fictional children is not equivalent to CSEM, because there are no real children depicted in it. 

It’s understandable to find these works disgusting or upsetting, triggering, unsettling — but to say that underage art or fiction is the same as or counts as CSEM is patently untrue. As a victim of CSA, it is galling to be told that choices my abuser made to harm and exploit me are equivalent to an abuser choosing to draw or read a comic about a victim that doesn’t actually exist. 

Some final questions to ask yourself: 

None of the above rebuttals are intended to imply people shouldn’t critique or criticise different media or their depictions. 

As well as the initial essay I linked, I actually wrote a big guide on how to approach close reading of text, and I’m working on another about analysing television and film.

In my opinion, it’s really important to be aware of different tropes and themes that you feel are harmful in fiction and art — racist tropes, sexist ones, homophobic ones, and all the rest.

It’s worth considering how works are harmful, and what you actually want to be done about it. 

I personally have criticisms of various tropes in media — I have particular dislike, for example, for the ways in which teacher/student relationships in TV shows and films are portrayed as “forbidden love”, with issue of their positions of power being depicted as one of bureaucracy or technical rules rather than a real power imbalance — I don’t care for the “sexy schoolgirl” trope, and the “barely legal” porn genre unsettles me.

All of the above three tropes often coincide with people’s thinking of teenage girls, especially those in school uniforms, as sex objects, and portraying school uniforms themselves as sexual or deserving of this sort of sexual attention. 

Not all depictions are the same — some works subvert the sexy schoolgirl trope by having those schoolgirls be secret monsters than punish abusers, and some works exist that critique teacher/student dynamics. 

It’s also important to note audience and outreach — a work that’s put on mainstream television channels or put in movie theatres by huge studios have a very different range of impact than an indie published novella, or one person’s fanfic on Ao3. 

Note where you’re holding individual or small studio creators — especially those who are in some way marginalised and are already facing adversity in their work — to higher account than large studios, or fixating on imagined harm their work could potentially cause. 

Is a work harmful, or is it just uncomfortable? Is it harmful, or is it just personally triggering to you? 

Can the work you’re concerned about do as much harm as you’re envisaging? Is it actually reaching the individuals you are worried might be vulnerable to harm as a result of it? Does the work intend to do that harm or hold those harmful views, and are the authors or creators working to address or apologise for that harm?

Is the work discussing, critiquing, or exploring the emotional impact of the dark themes within it? Does it have warnings or disclaimers before the work begins?

If you’re worried about a work “normalising” or “glorifying” a troubling subject — does the work actually do that? What is your evidence for this, having engaged with the text? Is that thing discussed in the text, argued, explored in-depth, or merely mentioned? Do characters show inner conflict and interpersonal conflict over it? Is it actually portrayed as good or normal? Is your concern the characters’ perspectives within the text, or the authors or creators’ opinions? 

Does the work carry ideas that are bigoted or feel like it includes apologism for some shitty ideas or ideology? Is the work a piece of propaganda, or function as propaganda? Do you feel the work is being advertised or pushed to an inappropriate audience for its subject matter?

If you do consider the work to be either likely to be personally distressing or upsetting to you, or potentially harmful because of its troubling or bigoted or just shitty ideas, how do you want to respond? 

If it’s the former, you should set your own boundaries — you should use your mute and block functions, you should avoid the work, you should seek out things that will comfort you, and perhaps discuss the distressing topics with someone you trust, whether that’s a friend or partner, a loved one, or a counsellor or therapist. 

If it’s the latter, you should absolutely deconstruct the piece in question and analyse the ways in which it’s shitty or harmful, or read essays by those who’ve done that work. You can maybe warn your friends about it, or if it’s a work of political concern — if the harm is being done because the work provides financial support to a hate group or a bigoted public persona, for example, you might perform a boycott, or involve yourself in acts of protest in response to the work or its creators. 

If it’s important enough to you and your beliefs that you feel urged to do those things, perhaps you should — if all you feel urged to do is to harass or shout at people online, though, it might be better for your own mental health to take a step back and do something more positive for yourself. 

Sometimes, a piece of work or media will be shitty, and shitty people will love it, and that will kinda suck — God knows I’ll see work that’s really transphobic or homophobic or antisemitic, and it’ll upset me that people I otherwise love and respect seem to be enjoying it so much. 

I can talk to my friends and my family about it, and I’ll do that — and I can mute and block the topic, and critique it in the right circles, or write essays if I’m really inspired to, responding to the work and what I feel its impact is…

But if my instinct becomes to just snipe at people for enjoying it when they really don’t know what the problem is, or have a go at them when they’re doing so unthinkingly, that’s not really helpful to them or to myself. It’s not addressing the harm I feel is being done, and nor is it really constructive. 

I’m an adult, after all — as I’ve said a few times already, it’s our own responsibility to set our own boundaries and consider what we’re doing to safeguard ourselves, and if in setting those boundaries and personal safeguarding limits, whether they’re in line with our own ethics and morality. 

We cannot control other people and their feelings, or the works they create, but we can take care of ourselves, including breaking ourselves out of obsessive moral spirals or anxieties about other people’s thoughts — and personally, I think that’s actually a very revolutionary thing to do given that we exist in a world that constantly tries to encourage (and monetise) that sort of aimless outrage. 

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | @steddielovemonth prompt love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can't tear yourself away from them just yet by @starryeyedjanai | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

Steve came to slowly, like swimming through molasses, his mind caught somewhere between dreaming and being awake. In his dream, he had been lying in the sun, his head cushioned in Eddie's lap, Eddie's fingers running through his hair, humming a soft melody Steve had never heard before.

Slowly, the melody changes to the sound of soft snoring, and the soft thing under his head isn't Eddie's lap, it's his chest, gently rising and falling with each snore. Steve presses his smile into the warm skin beneath him at the thought of Eddie's face when he tells him he snores.

Some things are worth waiting for, though, and he knows the perfect moment to reveal this particular piece of information will come.

He has no idea what time it is. Judging by the morning light filtering into the room, it's just after sunrise, the sun's rays piercing through the blinds and casting a warm, golden glow that gradually fills Steve's hotel room.

Moving as carefully as he can, he cranes his neck to check the aged alarm clock on the bedside table. It tells him that he was right, it's 7:58 a.m., and the sun has risen just minutes before him. The light filtering in is soft and diffused, making the colors seem muted yet rich, with shades of pale orange, pink, and yellow dancing across the surfaces. Long shadows stretch out elegantly, accentuating the contours of furniture and objects in the room.

It's Steve's favorite time of day. There's a sense of quiet serenity in this early morning moment as the world slowly awakens. It offers a brief respite before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.

These days, early mornings hold an even more special place in his heart because it's the only time of day he can just look at Eddie.

Sometimes Steve thinks Eddie is like a hummingbird, always moving until all his energy is used up and he falls into a deep slumber that almost looks like he's dead to the world. It allows Steve to soak him up undisturbed and unabashed. His fingers carefully exploring the hills and valleys of hard muscle and soft flesh, he can drink in the swirling ink on Eddie's pale skin.

It's such a stark contrast from the rest of the day.

Eddie often seems driven. By the perceived expectations of others, by his own fears of falling short. By his own demons, which Steve has only glimpsed. But as the darkness of the night gives way to a new day, Eddie looks at ease.

It's probably too soon to think, but Steve hopes it's because he's now sharing Eddie's bed. That Eddie feels safe with him, safe enough to let go of all the things that plague his beautiful but sometimes overwhelmingly loud mind.

That's why it pains Steve to be the one to wake Eddie from his peaceful slumber and bring him back to reality. But they have a sound check at 9:15 because the venue has had some problems lately and they need to make sure everything goes off without a hitch tonight. This whole tour means too much to them, to Eddie, for it not to be perfect.

Pressing a gentle kiss just above where Steve can feel the steady beating of Eddie's heart, he softly calls Eddie's name. Not surprisingly, nothing happens, so another kiss follows the first, this time on Eddie's collarbone.

"Eddie, c'mon," he tries again, this time closer to Eddie's ear, eliciting a soft murmur. "We have to get up, the soundcheck -"

"Mm, they can check the sound without us," his - Eddie's - voice comes in a slightly drawn out tone. "Don't wanna get up."

Eddie, obviously not fully awake yet, wraps his arms around Steve and buries his face in Steve's hair.

"I know, ba-" Steve stumbles over the pet names that want to come out more and more now that they're so much closer than when he first started touring with Corroded Coffin. "I know. But we can grab a big coffee with enough sugar in it to put an elephant into a sugar coma, and when the check is done, we can come back to the hotel and sneak into your room and I can make it worth your while."

Steve's tone is low, almost a purr, as he says this. The others don't know about them yet, although Steve thinks that at least Robin and Chrissy have their suspicions. And Jeff has been watching them more closely as well. He's sure that they'll tell them soon, but first they want to enjoy getting to know each other this way, without their friends getting involved.

"Five more minutes and I will make it worth your while. Whaddya say, big boy?"

Before Steve can answer, most likely telling Eddie no, we're going to be late and how are you going to explain that to the others, Eddie rolls them both over until Steve lands on his back with a soft umph. Above him, Eddie is smiling down at him, suddenly much more awake than seconds before.

"Hi," he says, nudging Steve's nose with his own.

Steve doesn't even try to fight the dopey smile, even as he rolls his eyes at Eddie trying to get what he wants by playing dirty. It's so Eddie, just like the wolfish grin on his face.

"I'll make this the best five minutes of your life, Harrington. Scout's honor."

Steve snorts. "Scout's honor? I doubt you ever talked to a scout in your life."

"Oh yeah. In fact, I'm sleeping with one. And I'm about to kiss one before I rock his world."

"See, that's where you're wrong."

"Is that so?"

This makes Steve laugh out loud. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," Eddie replies, then hesitates as his choice of words seems to register with him.

Before the moment between them ends in awkwardness, Steve leans in to kiss Eddie on the nose. "How did you know I was a Boy Scout?"

Steve's distraction works, and the worry in Eddie's eyes is replaced by mischief. "Just a guess, but good to know."

"Ass."

"I have it on good authority that you like my ass," Eddie teases, and Steve has to agree. He really does. As much as he likes everything else about Eddie. How much is becoming a problem.

Instead of saying any of these things, Steve looks over at the alarm clock, which now reads 08:04. He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. "I think your five minutes are up, and I have to say, not the world-rocking I was expecting, Munson."

"Oh you..." Eddie growls before swooping in to capture Steve's lips in a deep kiss. It turns into another, and another, the dim light in the room growing brighter around them as they become lost in each other.

Eddie makes it to sound check just in time, while Steve is ten minutes late, carrying five cups of coffee. He hopes no one notices the bright grin Eddie flashes with the first sip of his overtly sweet coffee, or the wink he gives Steve.

A promise is a promise, and Steve intends to keep them all when it comes to Eddie.

[aftgtandn]

We're at a real risk of sounding like a broken record at this point but you guys are AMAZING!

We still can't believe how much support you all have shown the fest. From reblogs and retweets, to comments and joining in all the fun games, it's truly been a blast.

We really, really can't thank you enough! Our hearts are so full to see T&N fest be so fun for the second year in a row — and it's all your doing! Every fic, every piece of art, every work adopted, every meme, every comment left, every full bingo card, every rec. IT WAS ALL YOU.

To our creators in particular: we owe you THE WORLD. Thank you for being brilliant. Please make sure to tag us in all your claim posts so we can reblog them!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... here's the full list of works AND THEIR INCREDIBLY TALENTED CREATORS:

Are you Real? by Whyreme Rated Mature | 6052 words Andrew comes back from Easthaven but Neil isn't at Palmetto, where he promised he would be. If you ever wondered what it would be like if Andrew was present for the immediate aftermath of Christmas at the Nest, this one is for you.

[art] don't flinch. by ghostheroes Rated Gen | Art There's not that much space from the cheek to the eye. In the art piece we have for you today, Lola aims the lighter barely an inch higher.

echoes by doodleishere Rated Teen | 100 words What if Kevin didn't leave the next alone? In this flash fic, Jean gets out too when Riko's anger finally snaps.

Bite the hand by Ateiluj Rated Mature | 4515 words We all have asked the question: what was going through Andrew's mind during The Choking Incident? A question we might have not asked, however, is: what would happen if no one stopped him? Well, this fic answers both of those!

duck duck goose by glittersinnin Rated Gen | 2329 words When Andrew goes through Neil's duffel, Neil holds his tongue. It will take some patience for him to get adequate revenge. Patience... and some experience handling the local water foul.

Let Down by maydaykevin Rated Gen | 4132 words How would it affect Kevin and Andrew's deal if Kevin hit Andrew back when Andrew chokes him? How is their relationship impacted by this unexpected bout of violence between them? Find out in this fic!

If You're Throwing Me to the Lions by orionauriga Rated Teen | 3763 words It's not easy when your boyfriend comes with a whole lot of baggage, especially twin-brother-who-hates-you shaped baggage. It's not easy but it's worth it, for Aaron, and Katelyn knows how to stand her ground.

If I was easy to kill you would have done it already by lazarusthefirst Rated Mature | 9196 words They were always meant to be partners, now it's Jean's job to make sure Neil behaves. Neil isn't great at being a partner, but he knows partners don't leave each other behind. In this fic, Neil doesn't come back to Palmetto alone.

Butterfly Effect! Read More on Page 12 by animediac Rated Gen | 5194 words How much can the death of one character affect the narrative? Through newspaper and blog articles, emails and social media posts, that's exactly what this fic explores. How many lives can the butterfly effect of one unfortunate 'accident' change?

Nathaniel by nyaar0n Rated Gen | Art Neil Josten is a Fox, but what if he never got the chance to be? Nathaniel Wesninski is a Raven through and through, and in this art piece, he snatches the spotlight both on the court and with his partner.

Now it's Time to Live (and Turn to Dust) by Witheredcarnelians Rated Mature | 4573 words Renee makes it just in time to save Jean ... or does she? This fic explores the crushing guilt of leaving behind a loved one, and being unable to save them in the end.

caught up in you by rooftopkisses Rated Mature | 5463 words "What are you hoping for, coordinates?" Neil doesn't lock the door, and Nicky walks in on Neil and Andrew kissing. Nicky can be trusted — mostly because he fears Andrew's knife — but Andrew's tendency toward quiet implosion is a different story.

but i've walked this far by rwnjun Rated Teen | 14556 words When the countdown ends, Neil gets taken. His dad is dead, but manages to make substantial damage before he gets shot. Now Nathaniel gets to be Neil Josten, but who is Neil Josten if he can't play Exy?

i've been feeling smaller by neiljokesten (vykio) Rated Teen | 2433 words Over worrying and wound-tending, Aaron and Neil get caught on a never-ending loop of the pot calling the kettle black over sacrificing themselves to protect a loved one

a familiar face by Shinobimoon Rated Gen | 4184 words How would things have gone if Kevin had recognized Neil right away? Would Neil have run, or still signed with the Foxes? Read more in this fic!

Better Luck Next Time by AllAngstNoComfort Rated Mature | 7812 words What if Riko had gone for Aaron instead of Seth, that night? In this fic, we learn exactly that and how that affects the Foxes.

the most unkindest cut of all by deadangelo Rated Mature | 2550 words Riko Moriyama has been many things to Kevin Day: a friend, a brother, a partner, a monster. The die has been cast. Riko is going to die. This time around, Ichirou has a spectator seat saved for Kevin.

we want the young blood by undermoonwalker Rated Teen | Art What if Elodie was sold to the Ravens? What if Jean had a predetermined partner through all that darkness? This art looks at the possibilities of the Moreau Ravens!

you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) by wesawbears Rated Teen | 1757 words Jeremy Knox can't figure out their newest recruit. But having some secrets of his own means that he can tell when something isn't right, and if there's one thing about the Trojans is that they protect their own.

as soft as feathers by delossanctuary Rated Mature | 4714 words What's a T&N fest without a devastating Abby fic? This year, ponder on this: what if Neil's finger slipped when he needed an airport pickup?

TKO by justadreamfox Rated Mature | 4733 words Remember that busboy Neil paid to knock him out? In today's T&N fic, Neil doesn't get left on the floor of the club afterwards. Not everyone is out to get him.

i know that i did you wrong (but will you trust me when i say that i'll make it up to you somehow) by evenfallwriter Rated Mature | 7076 words Neil gets something different for his 19th birthday: his father's death.

depraved heart by decaflondonfog Rated Mature | 7000 words There is a horrible scene at the Hemmick house. There is a dead man on the ground. There is Andrew, laughing. And then there is Kevin, standing with a bloody knife in hand and something far more potent than fear clawing at his rib cage.

kintsugi by gus_47 Rated Explicit | 4728 words Riko's violence knows no bounds; what if he didn't stop at Kevin's hand? This fic follows Jean as he weathers and grieves the aftermath of the Raven's ugliest secret.

The Mallard's Lullaby by Random2002 Rated Mature | 6313 words The Moreau family are good at business; why sell one child to an Exy empire when you can sell two? Good thing Elodie's got a stuffed duck, a pieced together first aid kit, and her brother. What more do you need?

Light in a prism by sassy_pen_sassy Rated Teen | 1030 words There's a life outside of the walls of the EAU Raven's nest; Jean learns what that's like with Renee by his side in this sweet fic.

not dead (yet) by ashestoashes7 Rated Mature | 13593 words When Andrew is released from Easthaven, only three of his charges are there to pick him up. He always knew Neil was a pipedream. If Andrew cared more, Neil could become a nightmare.

Digits by twolipsliterature Rated Teen | 2700 words A cheerleader and a Exy player on the run from his hitman father walk into a bar. This time, Neil gives Marissa his number instead of being an asshole for once.

shots fired by liaisun Rated Mature | Art Neil threw out the guns when his mother died, but today we take a look at how things might have gone if he hadn't.

Timing by HereBeChickens Rated Teen | 1116 words Kevin scores. Neil falls to his knees. ""You've always known what it's like to be second."" Riko swings. Andrew still gets there in time. But this is where we diverge.

presumably dead arm by kevjean Rated Mature | 15518 words What if someone else had found Kevin first after Riko broke his hand? What if that someone was special in a way that was never allowed before? In this fic, Kevin finds a slightly different way out of the Nest, and discovers something on the way.

and this is just my luck by starwarned Rated Teen | 2107 words Kevin Day is a star. He won't let a gay crisis get in his way. At least, that's the plan -- it becomes difficult for Kevin to maintain that dissonance after he overhears Andrew offering to blow Neil.

n'oublie pas de vivre by FireHeartAW Rated Teen | 5028 words What is left of Jean Moreau without Exy? Can he find a new place for himself without the Ravens even if his injuries prevent him from ever playing again? And what does he need to make that happen?

i am not scared of death, i've got dreams again by liliacskiess Rated Explicit | 5566 words Eden's back alleyway is not the place to be on a Friday night; Nicky learns that the hard way in today's fic which asks 'What if Andrew didn't arrive in time to fight Nicky's attackers'?

Back to the Old House by TearsOfATrickster Rated Teen | 6664 words Neil's not the only one willing to protect Andrew when he's at Easthaven. What if Kevin went back to EAU for Christmas?

Only Human by aquared46 Rated Mature | 2677 words “Shouldn’t I feel different? Powerful?” Neil survives his father, but the encounter leaves him with nightmares that seem like they should be good dreams. Andrew is there to listen as Neil tries to process.

Baltimore Basement by ConventionalExy Rated Mature | Art The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. In this art, Neil is taken to Baltimore by his father's people, but he knows his way around a cleaver.

The Graveyard Shift by KweenDay Rated Mature | 7100 words What if Andrew noticed there was something wrong in the locker room? What if Andrew stayed at Neil’s side? What if Andrew was brought to Baltimore too? In this fic we find out exactly what goes down behind the walls of the Wesninski manor.

the ongoing effects of growing a backbone by favbitchcharlie Rated Teen | 10641 words What if instead of giving Neil the plane ticket to EAU, Kevin tore it up? What if Neil let a bit of Nathaniel slip through? In this fic, Kevin and Neil go to break Andrew out of Easthaven in their own non-Coach-approved way.

The Prince and The Pauper by CherriPips Rated Mature | 8695 words After Riko broke his hand, Kevin went running to Wymack, but what if he saw Andrew first? In this fic, we find exactly how that interaction goes down.

Tear away at the Mask by Moondal Rated Teen | 2779 words What if more than one Fox had crossed paths with Neil in his past life? And what if this one particular Fox immediately recognized him, too? This is a fic about Natalie Shields, Nathaniel Wesninski, and about reinventing yourself.

scavenger's hunt by kiwiaok Rated Mature | 10341 words In a world where Lola survives her gunshot wounds in Baltimore, Neil has to face her once more during her trial, and things come to light that he would rather had stayed hidden.

Neil Josten Is Not Fine by the_greater_grief Rated Teen | 3362 words "In Neil’s dreams, Aaron never shows up to save the day." Neil's nightmares have become a problem even he can't ignore. When his sleeplessness begins to mess with his performance on the court, he gives in. Maybe Dobson isn't so bad, after all.

damage control by seasy33 Rated Mature | 11656 words When Andrew witnesses Nicky kissing Neil, his confidence in his plan to break Neil wavers. What can he stomach in his mission to keep his family safe? And what will it actually take to learn Neil's secrets?

patient violence by Mercey Rated Mature | 6981 words An orderly catches Dr. Proust and Andrew ends up escaping Easthaven early. Where to next? Well, Neil’s in the Nest and Andrew’s looking into a jailbreak. In this fic we find out what happens when Andrew goes to get Neil out of the Nest.

Deadliest Piece by LynxDoesArt Rated Explicit | Art When Neil realizes that something is wrong at the Hemmick's house, he rushes upstairs to find Andrew with the rest of the monsters close behind. What if Kevin got a hand on Neil's racquet before Aaron?

it lives in the throat by timeloops (kunimi) Rated Teen | 14440 words Switching places with your twin is fun, until… technically, Aaron Minyard dies in a car crash with his mother. But the dead body isn’t Aaron and now he must deal with the fallout of it all.

With all the love and appreciation in the world,

Your T&N'24 mods and helpers 💚

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

We're so back baby! Happy weekend everyone, apologies for the delay whilst I've been away travelling. I HAVE been reading lots on my trains however, so here's another round of the fic I've been reading this fortnight whilst not actively flailing over the glorious new episodes. As always you can find previous rec lists here. Some light spoilers for new episodes.

6 October 2024

still the bone remembers, still it wants by @eddiebabygirldiaz in which 'Eddie goes to therapy and learns how to want. Buck helps.' Ohhh I absolutely adored following along on this ride as a wip and now it's complete in all its glory! From his childhood responsibilities looking after his sisters, through the events of season 4 and 5, Eddie struggles with identifying what he wants in life, and Frank gives him homework to make a list of simple desires for just himself. What follows is a beautiful journey of unpacking what's in his heart, with the most gorgeously in love and enamoured Buddie. The imagery in this fic melted me, from the orange tree to dancing and more. Indulgent in the best possible way. I'm still swooning from how much they love and laugh together!

tell you my sins (sharpen your knife) by @sonofatoasterwaffle from sweetness to....Hot Priest Smut! (And yet somehow, still sweet?!) This is gloriously fun and filthy and a little tongue in cheek crack treated seriously, in which Eddie deals with his recognition of his feelings for Buck by fucking a Priest about it....and makes Fleabag eat her heart out. It's 'for anyone who dreams about reclaiming pieces of the religion that hurt them in a fun and sexy way.' Featuring incredibly funny Bobby along the way. Poor guy.

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins) by @capseycartwright on the other end of the Catholic Guilt explorations comes this 'Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.' In which Eddie seeks various methods of support in dealing with the fallout from season 7, from therapy to a veterans group to reexamining his childhood and his relationship with God. Really beautifully achey and cathartic and uplifting.

Take My Oxygen (This Plane is Going Down) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels ahhh I had so much fun reading this! Buck is a succubus, and the firefam a mix of fae and humans in the know about the magical world. Eddie is a new recruit, and he can't help but find Buck mesmerising as they become best friends. But Buck has been coping with his inadvertently fatal (to his partners) natural state through a series of unhealthy mechanisms and it's taking its toll. When we say Eddie would step over the body to help support Buck...this is this fic! And yet it's also so supportive and sexy and a weaves in canon in such surprisingly effective ways!

the moon don't hang quite as high by @glorious-spoon in which 'after Bobby and Chris leave, Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, tries not to punch his new boss, and worries about Eddie.' I am so incredibly obsessed with the dialogue in this fic, it captures Buck and Eddie's voices and idiosyncrasies so well and the patter of their banter and friendly bickering, particularly how weird they are about their own and each others relationships (affectionate.)

The Write Way To Love by @spotsandsocks this was such a cute AU, in which Buck is an anxious children's fantasy author and Chris (and Eddie) are some of his biggest fans. Running an art competition for children to submit their drawings to be printed in his next book, the elusive E. Buckley makes a rare public appearance and bumps into single Dad Eddie, where sparks fly. Can Buck get over the voice in his head self sabotaging his path to happiness? This fic hit very close to home and I had so much fun reading it, and loved Christopher's voice in it so much!

a sweetheart (to hold when i'm alone) by @clusterbuck at all times on my Give That Man A Cat agenda, directly following on from the zoom call in 8x01, Eddie finds a stray in his back yard, adopts her and falls in love. Things might not be healed with Chris but perhaps they can take tentative steps forward. Eddie holding on to the mask even as it fractures, and yet not giving up, finding inner strength and outlets for all the love he holds in his heart.

cool dry place by @gayeddieagenda 'After a long summer, Buck and Eddie try to figure out if this is the right time.' Another which just nailed the voices so well, I love the patience of this fic, a really lovely look at restraint and allowing grace time to heal and feel surety, without punishing characters for needing time, and with a beautiful sense of precipice for a new relationship.

And finally two tumblr fics from @hotshotsxyz, the taste of iron a powerful alternate ending following 8x01 (what if Buck hadn't tackled Gerrard) with a brilliantly effective mirroring of the shooting arc, and a hilarious Brad Torrence POV fic from 8x02 this method acting (might pay our bills) in which we hear his inner monologue whilst riding in the back of the stolen fire engine with Bobby and Buck. Perfection!

That's it for this week, bee seeing you soon after Athena and Jem land this plane!

[hawkland]

Art Masterpost: This Impossible Happiness Story by @friendofcarlotta Art by @hawkland / sidewinder

I'm always happy to get to work with @friendofcarlotta again and I know you are all going to love this story as much as I did! I just had to jump on it during @deancasbigbang claims as I am so keen on stories that reference The Winchesters' universe and explore all that it opened up with alternative worlds in SPN canon. (In fact I'm only bummed I didn't get to do some more art of those specific characters, but time and the extent of one of my other projects for this story got in my way. Maybe if I get the chance this winter when I'm promising myself a little time off from deadlines...)

The first image that immediately called out to me that I had to paint was Cas and Jack talking in Heaven while Jack is creating the skies. I had a really clear image of how to paint it in watercolor, and the biggest challenge was preserving the white of the paper (and I'll admit I threw in the bees to cover a small blemish/accident!) This was a large piece (20"x14") and I had to plan it out really carefully not to mess things up.

I then got the idea in my head that I wanted to try to paint each of the different versions of Cas & Dean in the story in tight close-up, to illustrate how they are the same yet also different. The first is what I called the "Winchesters Universe" versions, where Cas is a professor whom I visualized a lot like Jeremy Bradshaw in Bridgewater. This Dean is younger and has been raised in the hunting life but by supportive parents, so I saw him a lot like young!Dean in SPN but softer, happier.

Then there's " '80s Universe" Cas and Dean, who have had a rougher time of things before reuniting in the story. For Cas I used some reference caps from some tv work he did pre-SPN (particularly CSI: New York) that had a look I felt fit that particular character. For Dean I was thinking about him being of the same age as Winchesters' verse Dean, but having had a harder life. (And maybe a more 80s-style look and hair!)

And then of course there are our Cas and Dean, as we saw them in Season 15 (and for Dean, in The Winchesters finale episode.) There's a particular moment in the story I had in mind for their expressions but I don't want to say too much to spoil the story.

As a final project, I was trying really hard to closely match up these different portraits so I could overlay them and make a gif morphing on into the next. You can find that gif below the cut (or wait to see it when you read the story!)

Thanks as always to @friendofcarlotta for being such a wonderful and supportive bang partner! I loved this story and I know you will, too!

[mokkkki]

the way you write is so beautiful... tips for somebody new to writing who wants to write like you?

YOU are so beautiful, thank you so much! im not sure about any tips i have, but ill give it a shot. these are what i personally believe to have been the most important things:

find your wavelength my writing became a lot more stylized and personalized after i found an author that i resonated with, as well as a couple of themes. it just helps to know what you are actually interested in writing in, versus what you think other people would like to read. im personally interested in writing about relationships and dynamics, so my writing will always be more character than action driven. also, it helps, because youre always going to end up writing what you want to write, even in the smallest of ways, so why not embrace it fully? write what you want to read. otherwise, you wont have fun. and writing is SO MUCH FUN. knowing what youre into and what youre trying to channel gives you a really strong basis for all of your writing - not only will it take time for you to find your wavelength, meaning that youll have to expose yourself to many different genres and authors, which is a must, youll always be able to look back at that ONE creative piece and grab some motivation from it.

expose and explore creativity is everywhere - tv shows, movies, books, fanfics, comics, art, architecture, history (!!!), mythology, sports, reality - literally everywhere you can think of. dont wait for inspiration because its everywhere if you look hard enough. familiarize yourself with the seven basic plots, the thirty-six dramatic situations, basic foreshadowing elements, and other essentials. this isnt something to study or memorize, just to KNOW - its good to be aware of the foundations of literature.

embrace the brainrot and maintain a balance become obsessed w your own ocs, your own plots, your own everything. be your own biggest fan. to enter an abusive relationship with your own work is extremely upsetting, because youre doing wrong by the wonderful world youve made, and doing wrong by that part of you that just wants to be creative, too - and if that happens, its probably because you arent writing what you want to write, or controlling what doesnt want to be controlled. let your characters be individuals, let them go where they want to go, just follow and note what theyre doing. sometimes writing is a passive activity rather than active creation, and thats okay! thats when you know youve built a solid world that can run by itself and you just contribute to. that being said, while theres nothing quite like the hours spent ravenously typing, you need to find a balance. you are as important as your work, because without you, the work wouldnt exist. i also reccomend forcing yourself NOT to write on specific days. some ideas need to marinate, and some people need to rest.

i hope this was helpful &lt;;3 if you ever need more help (and this also applies to those reading), feel free to reach out! im open to being a beta reader or just a brainstorming partner. lots of love!

[cornerstoreclown]

Helooo agaain :P this is not really a request (but feel free to write anything you want ) is more of a "how do you see this" i wanted to ask if you see Art capable of being vulnerable with the reader. Or even showing the itty bittiest amount of affection. I love to explore his character and not only read about the shallow exterior, but to explore a bit more than meets the eye yk? I feel like you capture that essence of him really well thats why i like your writing so much (sorry if i went off topic lol) bye bye 🫶🏻

Always glad to see you! And you truly have a way of flattering me. (It’s working 🙈❤️)

I do see Art as being capable of being vulnerable with the dear reader. I think that it really depends on their personality overall, but vulnerability with Art … It’s reminded me of a quote about Harley Quinn and Joker I read somewhere years ago in my teenage years.

Everyone’s seen the Joker laugh, only Harley has seen him cry. Now, I’m not saying Art has the capacity to cry, because I don’t think he has any functional tear ducts—crying here could be more figurative. Sadness does not always have to involve tears.

Everyone’s only ever seen Art smile and silently laugh. You have the privilege of seeing him when he’s not smiles. The reader has seen his other array of emotions that harken back to his humanity. Whenever he had it. Now how much of said humanity there was is up for debate.

And especially given the most recent movie? DHT believes that Art is now more dangerous than ever and I’m inclined to agree with him. Art is scared now. He’s now physically vulnerable. Our reader would get to see him scared. To the rest of the world he’s a cornered animal and willing to pull out all the stops to survive. And he will. But you’ve seen the fear in his eyes, that primal drive that lingers in every living creature that kickstarts us and fills us with the will and desire to live.

Affection with Art involves being able to share a space with him and not get your skull cracked in. I do see him as more on a grey ace spectrum as he’s primarily motivated by murder and mutilation, but you get intimacy every once in a blue moon. It’s not important to him compared to the joy and euphoria he gets in harming and eviscerating and killing others, but he’ll humor you—so as long as you’re okay with a little pain. Intimacy with him involves a bit of give and take. You can get some moments of tenderness and romance in exchange for your blood and pain and occasional suffering. It’s a very… sadomasochistic relationship and he’s going to drag you down into the deepest depths of hell with him. It’s about ruining you. He will literally be the end of you, but I suppose there’s something to be said for that level of devotion and love to jump for him, knowing what doom awaits you on the other side. You’re going to sacrifice every piece of yourself.

He’s a parasite who will devour you from the inside in the most thrilling, delicious, yet agonizing way possible. But at least he’s funny.

[mrs-snape5984]

“There is a light and it never goes out…”

“Take me out tonight. Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care, I don’t care, I don’t care…” (“There’s a light that never goes out” by The Smiths)

Overstimulation. Disorientation. Light sensitivity. Chronic pain. Fatigue. These are only a few of those symptoms, which are torturing me day in and day out for the past two years, already. Due to them, caused by a disease, that is called “Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome” (ME/CFS), I’m currently forced to live a life within the strict confines of my dark and silent room, mostly enduring my daily existence in solitude.

I miss being a part of this world….and fuck, I miss being a part of other people’s lives! Living like this makes me feel like an old piece of furniture, which has been stored away in a hidden chamber…not worthy enough to be used or seen by anyone, and yet still not bad enough to be discarded.

Some months ago, two wonderful people started taking me out to see their worlds by sending me pictures and videos of the places, they’re heading to. Thanks to them, I’m allowed to get a glimpse of places, I’ve always dreamed of being able to explore them on my own.

Furthermore, something else became apparent whenever one of these precious gems of human nature took me with them: I wasn’t just carried around in their phones, but they carried me in their hearts. This realisation blew my mind! It’s not only me, who’s clinging to them as if they’re my lifelines…no, this little German mess, that I am, became important to these people, too! Words can’t express how grateful I am for our connections…and that I was also lucky enough to find true love in this bond (I love you, R. 🖤).

One of those amazing people is my beloved sister in Christ @vulnus-sanare, who will soon come to visit me in my small world. Finally, I’ll be the one, who can show her the beauty of the tiniest things in my environment…always surrounded by the securing gloominess of the nights. Magda, my heart, I’m going to introduce you to the stars above my town, to the soothing sounds of the Moselle River right next to my house and I hope, we will manage to experience the mesmerising dance of the bats in the vineyards, if we take my wheelchair with us. I can’t wait to have you here and pull you into the tightest of all embraces, sweetie!

I’ve commissioned my dear friend @snake-queen7 to create this breathtaking piece of art of Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules on a nocturnal walk through the vineyards behind my house. Before I caught ME/CFS, I used to enjoy these nightly strolls in order to watch the bats with my children, so I sent her a photo of the exact spot, I want to share with Magda. Since it was Severus and Snapedom, which brought us together, it’s only fair to bring our beloved dungeon bat to this special place as well.

My friend, I’m more than happy with the outcome of your artwork and it’s a pleasure to share it with all those lovely people of our Snapedom. Please take my apologies for taking so long to write this post, but I wanted to honour your work the way, it deserves to be honoured. For this reason, I had to wait patiently for a moment, when my brain wouldn’t refuse me to do its job (brain fog is such a pain in the ass!). Thank you for everything, Natalia! 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤