#the fact that at the end of the day they were doing something on this motherfucker's orders was such a bur under her saddle

[babygirlbdubs]

i grew up having a house with each parenting style. my mom never once hit me or took my things or yelled at me. but my dad did. it’s hard to understand why something is wrong when there’s only the fear of violence to support it.

my mom, like the op, treated me like a human. and, like a human who was learning the boundaries of everything. if i did something wrong, she would explain why it was wrong, and tell me not to do it again. depending on the act, she would also say something like “if you do this again, [x] will be your punishment.” i had to write apology letters, or take a certain amount of time to sit and think about why i did something (i’d have to answer why at the end).

there was one time that i got in very big trouble once. see, my grandfather was blind. i spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ house, and i had an obsession with drawing on anything i could. paper, walls, furniture. one day, my grandfather was the only one looking after me for a bit, and i decided to take advantage of the fact that he was blind and draw on an end table, even though i knew it was wrong to draw on furniture. of course, my grandfather was the only one in my family who was blind, so i got found out immediately when my grandmother and mom got home. i was in very big trouble.

even so, my mom sat my down and asked why i did it. asked if i knew why it was wrong. explained why it’s not okay to take advantage of someone’s disability like that. my “punishment” was to make a sincere apology to my grandfather, and then use my piggy bank savings to “pay for a new end table” (i didn’t have anywhere near enough for something like that). this taught me to take responsibility for my actions. to not just apologize, but to fix it, even if it means sacrificing something i worked hard for. my grandfather put the money back into a savings account for my schooling, but the message i needed to learn had been taught.

the “punishment” was always something to help me learn and become better. it always fit the “crime”. i never had my things taken from me just to punish me. the only reason i might have something taken is if i misused it, or if i admitted it was distracting me from doing something. and i always got the thing back after a lesson on how to do better.

those lessons always stuck better with me and truly made me a better person than the ones where i was miserable. to this day, i don’t remember why i got spanked by my dad, or why all my books were taken away at his house. i don’t remember half the reasons i got yelled at. i remember the lessons my mom taught me, though. i remember to make genuine apologies. to work to fix what ive done wrong.

fear is not what teaches people. kindness and compassion is.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 1 - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi? AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Riddle likes to think he's made great strides not being angry but hearing some utterly disgusting joke about 'how much do you cost?' sends him like nothing else ever has. This guy is tall and so unimpressive, so plain, so average that Riddle can't really recall him at all. Maybe that's just the absolute fury blurring his vision. He knows he's not breathing but his chest isn't burning near as much as his face; the heat is spreading quick and he can feel it in his cheeks and neck. Temples pounding, his vaguely aware of the growl bubbling in his chest as it threatens to slip past his clenched teeth.

Ace calls it his teapot snarl.

Before Riddle knows it, he's flown off the handle and he's going off on a rant. The whole shop is quiet, people physically backing away as he just methodically unravels everything about this cretin from outfit, posture, presence, delivery, unoriginality--everything. Honestly, he doesn't even remember everything he said. The redhead doesn't even tune back into the sound of his own voice until he ends the onslaught with, "You've just paid twenty thaumarks to embarrass yourself but that pales in comparison to the fact that you thought you had a chance with them. You should be ashamed!"

The man slinks away, sad little bag dragging off the counter.

Whispers and giggles diffuse throughout the shop. He ignores the looks that come his way, using the time to come back to himself. Riddle fixes his cute casual clothes, content with the fact you picked them out together. He catches sight of the matching rose clips on your outfit and in you hair and smiles softly. "A strawberry cookie and a cake pop, please." he clears his throat, fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Sam had an assortment of sweets and he was going to capitalize on strawberry's popularity while he could. He saw you root through the display case, carefully considering the designs even though they were all supposed to taste the same (allegedly).

"Sure thing. Your total is 12 thaumarks. Thanks for stopping by Sam's Mystery Shop! Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands you the thaumarks as you take the time to slide the I LOVE YOU cookie in his bag.

----

Deuce is an honors student! He is a good boy that's going to make his mother proud!

HE IS SO GOING TO PUNCH THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN THIS FACE!

His shoulders tense, fist clenching at his side. "Why, you think they're cheap? Something to be bought? What an insult!" his head snaps up as he stares down the slightly taller boy. Deuce's teal eyes turn a dark turquoise; the giddy glint of seeing you and chocolate eggs in one place turns to something sharp and steely. He hands the chocolate eggs to Ace, turning right back around to stare the creep down. Old habits die hard; he's grinding a fist into his hand.

"Aren't you the guy always complaining about limited time sales being unfair? Not my problem you missed the window." the guy scoffs, leaning back against the cashier counter. "Anyways," the guy tilts his head back and starts talking to you.

You look uncomfortable and angry that you can't handle this yourself. Professionalism and all.

"You may have caught the window but I'm about to show you the door." Deuce draws up on him with a quickness people have never seen. Not many people know about all the fights he used to get into. Gripping the guy's hair almost to the point of pulling it out, steering him like a panicked bull, Deuce all but chucks him out the front door of the shop. He turns around to walk back inside and buy his chocolate eggs but that spine-tingling feeling of someone fixing to take a cheap shot makes him pivot and nail the guy with a solid kick to the chest. The guy falls back on his butt, breath hitching.

Deuce scoffs and wipes his shoes on the step before going into the shop. The door is almost closed behind him when he hears a strained grunt. He's been in enough fights to know the guy is off the ground and making one last attempt to catch him from the back. More than done with this and just wanting his damn eggs and to say hi to you in all your festive lace, he shoulder checks the door like he's trying to shove Jack out of the lunch line (which he would NEVER, EVER DO).

The guy falls with a satisfying thud and Deuce tries his best to relax his face as he resumes his place in line. It's red from aggravation and the fact he's fishing for his thaumarks because he's forgotten what pocket he put it in. "Sorry about that," he tries to uncrumple the thaumarks a little before handing them to you. "And the face. My face. Not your face! Your face is fine! Like, you're not ugly! I just, uh--"

"Take the change, Deuce-y!" Ace is standing behind him, guiding his nervous body like a puppet. He makes Deuce grab the change and turns him around, shoving him away from the counter before he can make it any worse. "Now help me move this guy's body! He's out cold!"

---

Ace can only laugh when he hears that line. First of all, it's weak. Secondly, the dude must not have any faith in his game if the delivery depends on you being captive behind the counter. During work hours. With an obligation to be forward facing and listening to whatever he says.

"Why? You worried about your budget, buddy?" Ace laughs, hands laced together behind his head.

The guy snaps up, stick-straight. "N-No! I was just--" his face is blooming pink.

"People aren't products, bro. There's no discounts." Ace shakes his head.

"W-What I meant was, I want to take you on a date!" the guy turns back to you and flashes a big smile. All of Ace's pouty mutters fall on deaf ears. Not because he's being quiet, but because the guy is straight up ignoring him. He's not sure where the idea comes from--he'll blame it on an itchy hand--but he sneaks a couple of small candies in the guy's pocket. Sam's familiar top hat bobs into view, snaking around the shelves.

"DON'T FORGET TO PAY FOR THE STUFF IN YOUR POCKETS!" Ace felt confident in his sleight of hand tricks. It wouldn't be the first time he tricked NRC students. It's actually really easy to do. That works in his favor because if everyone can't get their story straight or agree on what they saw, he's a free man.

Sam materializes at the edge of the aisles and seems to stare into the boy's soul. "Young man, please step aside."

Ace looks like the cat that ate the canary as he moseys up to the counter and slaps the box of cherry cordials down. He buys a cherry sucker at the last second, not seeing it at first. "Thanks, Sweets!" Ace winks at you as he strolls out with the bag.

Sam nearly scares him out of his skin, leaning against the wood just outside the door. Ace finally feels the tug of shadows on his feet. "Speaking of sweets," Ace flinches and hides his ear with his blazer, groaning as Sam hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him into his chest sternly. "I understand your frustration, Little Imp. Young love is adorable in all it's wiles! But mark my words, Little Imp: if you lie about wrongdoings in my shop again, you will not come back. Clear?"

"Yes sir." Ace gulps.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Little Imp."

---

Trey isn't really surprised to hear what he just did. 'Boys will be boys', as the saying goes. Frankly, he's disappointed. He's heard smarter things come out of his little brother and sister.

He adjusts his glasses, mentally trying to relax the knot between his eyebrows.

Should he say something? Of course he wants to. It's you! He's been on the other side of the counter plenty of times and has had vivid daydreams of sticking a customer in a stand mixer. But, then again, he has a reputation to uphold and anything he does could reflect back on Riddle.

And send Riddle into a fit, giving him something else to handle.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd have the element of surprise. People--especially men--don't cook enough to know how much arm strength it takes to lift twenty pound bags of flour on the regular. Or the stamina it takes to walk said bags from Sam's shop to Heartslabyul. Even the small five-pound bag of sugar in his basket would suffice as a weapon; the sugar was packed enough to hit like a brick if he lobbed it.

Trey's running the options through his head, almost settling on just saying 'how much for you to stop?' when he sees the end of a sucker rolling between the guy's teeth. Too easy, Trey pushes his glasses up on his nose, hand hiding his smile and the quiet incantation for "Paint the Roses".

All of a sudden the guy is gagging and running for the door. You and everyone else are wondering what the hell just happened. He doesn't come back in. One brave soul suggested he had a really bad gag reflex and the sucker did him in. Only Trey knows it was a mix of sour milk and the pungent soy sauce tart nightmare he tricked Riddle into making once.

"Just this, please. Oh! And what Sam had on hold for me." Trey hands you the sugar, relishing in the brush of your hands.

"Candied violets and a bag of sugar. Twenty thaumarks, please."

"Thanks." Trey smiles at you, laying the sugar flat so his delicate, delectable candied violets don't get crushed.

"Thank you." you smile brightly, handing him the change.

----

Cater wants to gag. Normally Valentine's confessions are cute and IN THE RIGHT SETTING pickup lines are amazing. This? This is a tragedy. Mostly because there is ZERO chemistry and you look #uncomfortable.

He's big on consent since he's always looking for collabs and people to pose with on Magicam so maybe that's why this scene bothers him. Aside from the fact that you're out of this guy's league, obviously. Like, it's really an insult to your time.

'How much do you cost?' Really? You're #priceless.

His brows furrow, lips thinning as he wonders what to do. He plays with the idea of Split Card and creating a small crowd of copies to boo and jeer the guy but the store would be even more packed than it already is. Cater's green eyes twinkle as it hits him. Turning his phone longways, he zooms in on the guy and tells him to keep going because he's live on Magicam. "Don't worry! I've already got all the V-day tags on there! Everyone will see it!"

He's friends with practically everyone at NRC so this guy will be seen by everyone.

Something sick and unfriendly and satisfied swirls in him as the guy's face pales in real time. If he zooms in a little, he can get the beads of sweat in there. "I'll, uh--another time, okay?" the guy darts off and abandons his handful of candy at the register.

"Haul coming later! 'K, bye!" Cater sends a peace sign to the camera, smiling at his own face. He swipes the little chocolates into his basket nonchalantly. He's not even the biggest sweets person but those are his now!

"Gonna have a spicy Valentine's Day, huh?" you ring up the cups of spicy ramen.

"You know it!" he laughs.

"I get it. You have to balance out how sweet you are." you smirk up at him. "Twenty-four thaumarks, please."

#in love. #kiddingnotkidding. #sendhelp. #downbad.

----

Leona doesn't even know why he bothered to show up to Sam's. He could just send Ruggie to get whatever he wanted. The variety of jerky was somewhat tempting but he could just as easily take the bus and get a proper meal off campus. And yet, he stood there with a gloved hand in his pocket, tail swishing back and forth in mild agitation. His green eyes sweep over the winding line until they land on you at the front.

His cheeks warm a little and he scoffs at himself, pretending to pick through the hanging strips of sunflower seeds as the line moves. Every step gets him closer to this soft, powdery scent with just a hint of sweetness. He starts to blame it on all the chocolate and candy and sugary shit exploding out of every possible spot in the store but there's this unmistakable undertone of skin.

Your skin.

He's only caught the scent a million times while hiding from people in the Botanical Gardens. Or when he's forced to attend class, catching a hint of you in the halls.

Leona's not sure why he cares anything about you because you're not magical. You're not interesting.

You shouldn't be, but you are.

You're literally the only person he's ever met from another world. You have no context for the Sunset Savanna or the hierarchy of it. To you, everyone is impressive. He can be something to you.

Why does that matter? He doesn't even know. That's what he tells himself, anyways. You say you have no magic but Leona thinks you can read minds. The look you always give him isn't a pitying one, but a curious one that seeks to dissect him and force him to face everything he keeps shoved deep down inside himself.

Part of him is waiting for the day you pull the right thread and he comes undone in the way he knows he need but can't find the strength for. Somewhere in that knotted mess is his true feelings for you. The stuff he can't admit.

You stand admirably on your own two feet, roughing it out like Ruggie, but you're so far from the intimidating women of the Sunset Savanna. You're approachable and soft; you're built like prey but you have the quick thinking of a predator.

Something in your demeanor changes--your hands pause and flutter nervously--and he's on alert. He's careful to relax his grip lest he crush the box of protein bars for Jack. His ears sling forward and his eyes narrow as he catches that half-baked flirting attempt. Leona doesn't even bother to hide the sneer twisting his face.

Just the thought of you with that hopeful schmuck is nauseating.

Suddenly the scent of all the males around you is overwhelming. Disgusting.

"If you have to ask about the price, you can't afford it. Haven't ya ever heard that before?" Leona 'hmphs' triumphantly, one hand on his hip as he bends down slightly to stare the chump in the face. "Askin' about the price is tacky."

"Wh-what was my total again?"

All Leona had to do was stare at the back of the human's neck. Humans, much like prey animals, grew really squirmy when a predator stared at them too long. Or encroached on their space, much like he was doing. It was for the hell of it at this point.

Leona made a mental note of the guy's face as he scampered off like a terrified cub and looked forward to the day he could send a stray spelldrive disk in his direction.

"Hey Herbivore," Leona plunked the basket down unceremoniously.

"Hey Leona," you looked down at the random stuff in his basket, trying not to smile at what just happened. Something warm and--dare he say it?--proud welled up in his chest when he realized you were happy about him scaring the guy off.

The heart-shaped stickers he kept finding on everything when he got back to Savanaclaw helped, too.

----

Ruggie lived for the holiday specials at Sam's. He was a bit put out that he wasn't picked to staff the Valentine's shift but the in-store discounts were a small consolation. It'd be better if he could stack them with an employee discount but he'd take what he could get! His mouth started watering as soon as he entered, sniffing out deliciously fluffy donuts.

Hopefully people would be distracted with the lollypops and chocolates and leave his donuts alone!

He choked down the occasional nervous whine when people gravitated too close to the donut display, distracting himself with the decor and wondering what would be most profitable to flip. His eyes began to wander to the people in front of him; Ruggie tsk'd at how casual and unguarded they were. Ripe for the picking, he looked at their wallets and fistfuls of thaumarks just out in the open.

If he wasn't worried about being banned from Sam's and losing some gigs he'd--

"How much do you cost?"

EXCUSE ME?! Ruggie freezes, eyes going wide and ears twitching when he hears that. The dude said that and LIVED?

Oh, right. You're not a Savanna girl. The girls back home would beat him up and make him pay them to stop. Or just smack the shit out of him hard enough to put him in a coma. Maybe break his jaw so he can't drop anymore awful lines.

Women are to be respected! Not treated like something you can purchase!

Given that you weren't a Savanna girl and were bound by the rules of 'I'm currently on the clock', Ruggie took things into his own hands. You could just treat him later!

"Laugh with Me!" Ruggie hisses, backing into the closest display. It was a little bump to him but far more to the guy up front. He waved his arm around, skimming the bags of gummy candies while the guy at the register knocked down a whole tower of balloons on a stick. Bending over just enough to line the guy's head up with the counter, Ruggie lunges forward.

WOMP!

Oh it was so satisfying. The guy is hopelessly, helplessly stunned. He gathers his bearings and Ruggie slides his foot out; the guy loses his footing and slams into the counter again.

Only two times before he gives up? Kind of weak-willed, Ruggie thinks with a little smirk as he side-steps the disoriented guy and waits patiently to check out. Sam tends to him while you get the donuts he's been craving.

They'll taste even better because they smell like you. Happy Valentine's Day to him!

-----

Jack is usually very stoic but a lot of people mistake his stoic observation for irritation. He would blame it on his intimidating physique but he's not sorry and takes great pride in his appearance. He's a beastman--a Howl!--he's supposed to be intimidating! Intimidating appearance aside, Jack is also a very helpful soul.

A good boy, if you will.

The only reason he's in Sam's is on Ruggie's behalf. He was tasked with picking up a few things and was more than happy to help out his senior. They were from the same dorm, after all! Practically a pack! You have to help your pack!

He's not really bothered by the amount of people, more focused on keeping his tail out of people's way and making sure he doesn't knock anything over. All at once, the atmosphere changes a little. There's a hint of sour in the air and a noticeable hike in someone's pulse.

It's your pulse. You look...distressed? Why are you distressed? Where is the threat?

Whatever it was, he missed it and he's cursing himself.

His ears swing forward as he catches bits and pieces of conversations. Some people are complaining the guy is taking too long, other people are laughing at his crappy pickup line. Some people are wondering if it's going to work.

This was a weak display if he ever saw one. The guy didn't even look confident in himself! All of your body language has now firmed up into rejection but the guy's not getting the hint. He's trying the 'oh, c'mon!' thing his siblings do when they want to play.

You don't know it, but you've been feeding Jack when he trots by in wolf form. He likes to finish off his morning jogs in wolf form to really stretch his joints and obliques. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, him following the tantalizing aroma of food to your door. Your cooking is fantastic and while you don't know that you're a pack mate, you're a pack mate!

You're just a pack mate who feeds him and gives him occasional pets. And these to die for scratches that he'd kill to feel with his real skin instead of fur. Any touch would be fine, really. Not that you'd ever know.

Jack doesn't even know he's growling until people start moving out of his way. The growl crescendos as he walks towards the guy. Tail bristling, Jack opens his mouth to show off sharp canines. "Get lost! They're not interested in you! They're just trying to work!"

As expected, the guy tucks tail and runs. Jack snorts, licking his lips that have suddenly become dry. His ears don't know what to do, caught between catching all the murmurs behind him and wanting to press down in embarrassment.

It's quiet but he hears it. "Thank you, Jack."

"Don't mention it," he crosses his arms, looking everywhere but you as you scan his items. He was avoiding looking at you directly but he notices you slip a few extra beef sticks into his bag. He blushes.

Yeah, don't mention that either.

[smuttysabina]

AriaSaki Earns Some Mortgage Money

(Aria Saki x Male Reader, 5.3K Words) Tags: Prostitution, Regrets from selling your body, Getting off to selling your body, Unexpected creampies, Vaginal and Oral Sex, Tittyfucking, She really should just release an Onlyfans, No handholding, Protected Sex (lol)

AriaSaki looks glumly at her computer screen, her eyes glazed over as she wracks her brain for some way out of her current predicament; her mortgage. Who knew something so mundane could bring so much stress? How was Aria supposed to have known that her org contract would fall through literally right after she bought herself a house! So she had spent the last year streaming constantly, doing everything she could to make her monthly payments, going live for days on end to try and make it through another pay period. I mean sure, she had also been splurging on pets, oh and on Pokemon cards, and on figurines, and... um well lots of things actually. But now Aria was truly struggling to keep up, and she had no idea how to make things better. She had spent her early years as a cumdump for LCS players, before transitioning to helping the nascent OTV group around the house, and then finally moving to streaming fulltime herself; aside from her cooking skills, she didn't have much to make a living with if streaming fell through. Well, there was one asset she still had left, but her parents would disown her if she started an Onlyfans to show off her voluptuous body to her fans; so she couldn't do that! Even that slut Jaime was coy about openly showing herself off, she would just tease on camera but keep the juicy stuff for her rich benefactors... Wait a minute, if Aria couldn't sell her body online, what if she could sell it in person?

Aria shudders in revulsion, was she seriously considering prostituting herself for some easy cash? Yes, yes she was...

You had always enjoyed perusing the escort listings, imagining yourself with the girls on display, stroking furiously to the thought of spending your hard earned cash on the chance to cum inside a woman. Of course, you had never actually paid to sleep with a prostitute, it was just arousing to browse and fantasize, especially since some of the girl's prices were nothing short of absurd. You nearly choke on your own spit as you read one listing, ten-thousand dollars for only one hour! At that price you might as well rent her for a whole year, and though her body was nicely shaped, there was no way she could possibly be worth so much. You shake your head in disbelief, what sort of moron would burn so much money on a simple fling? Probably just some rich brats who didn't know any better, and the escort's face was even blurred out as well, this was more likely than not just a scam. But that haircut did look oddly familiar... Frowning, you scrutinize the few pictures the lady of the night had on display, realization scratching at the rear of your brain as your mind attempts to connect the dots it had been given. You had seen her before, you were sure of it, though from where... You continue to beat your meat even as you drink in the sight of those saggy tits framed by that severe hime haircut, a sense of deja-vu filling you as you discern that you had masturbated to this view before. Your eyes boggle as realization finally dawns, perhaps $10,000 an hour was not too steep a price to pay after all...

Almost a week later, and you found yourself standing in front of an upscale hotel room door. If anything, the past week of paperwork and extensive background checks had left you even more convinced that the girl you were about to meet was in fact AriaSaki. You had signed no less than five separate NDAs, each more strictly worded than the last and filled to the brim with draconian punishments should you even think about this encounter in public. And the fact that she had dredged up drama from back in middle school to confront you about indicated that this was someone with a paranoid streak more than a little wide. The fact that the hourly rate was so obscenely high also was a glaring indicator, Aria had always been wont to splurge, and so probably was looking to buy all sorts of expensive junk to hoard. So you continue to wait awkwardly in front of the door, having knocked several times already, with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you had somehow been scammed and that this entire endeavor had been a complete waste of time. But before you turn to leave with a heavy heart, several loud clunks sound from the entryway, and the door opens a smidgen, allowing an elegant hand to reach from the darkness within and frantically beckon you inside.

You gingerly push open the door, stepping past the lady into the gloomily lit interior, before it is shut behind you and thoroughly locked. You turn to examine her, but she hurries past you into the hotel room, before collecting herself with a huff, clearly she was as nervous about this as you were. In the dim lighting you strain to make out her features, her face concealed behind a dark facemask with her olive-shaped eyes peering out above it; her hair was shorter than in her photos, but it matched how Aria's hair had looked on stream recently. Her voluptuous body was tightly constrained by a sleek black dress, showing off her noticeable curves without making her look like, well, a whore. The woman coughs before speaking in a rather familiar voice, "Okay, so before we do anything, you're going to need to transfer the money over to my account," she holds out her phone, with her bank account's QR showing on the screen. You dutifully pull up her account on your payment app, hesitating a moment before tapping in the desired amount to transfer. $20,000 might take a while to work off, but it would certainly be worth it... The girl sighs in disbelief as the notification pops up on her phone, "Wow. So this is for... two hours then? Whew!" she appears to hyperventilate for a moment before calming down and giving you a nod, and slowly undoes her mask to full reveal the face of your favorite streamer: AriaSaki

Aria grimaces awkwardly at you, "Okay, so I have never done this before so, um, I guess let's get this over with then?" She starts walking towards the bed before whirling, "Wait! Okay, um, so no anal, no oral, no kissing, don't ejaculate on me, I won't give you a blowjob, and you have to use a condom at all times, got it?" She glares sternly at you before you agree fully to her terms, and only then does she stalk towards her bed, grabbing a plastic tray from the nightstand and placing it beside her as she clambers onto the mattress. Aria gets on her hands and knees, her back inexpertly arched as she looks back at you in trepidation, "Um, I don't know how large your... penis is, so there's a bunch of different sizes in the tray. Oh! And lube." Then she waits, studiously ignoring you as you undress, and she twitches nervously as you climb onto the bed behind her. Feeling a little let down by the lack of intimacy, you nonetheless find your manhood fully interested in the situation, and you rummage through the tray before finding the correct size to cover it. Your cock's enthusiasm remains undiminished even after sheathing it in cool latex, and you crawl forward on your knees until you are in position behind the streamer. Aria flinches when you pull her dress up over her waist, revealing her pale ass that neatly compliments her juicy thighs; and nestled between her cheeks was the thing you had been lusting after for years.

AriaSaki's pussy was a deep brown, its sunken shape endowed with some sizable lips that were no doubt the reason her camel-toe showed up so easily. And of course, like the lovable gamer gremlin that she was, she had obviously not bothered to shave in several weeks; well at least she had showered recently, you had been somewhat worried she would not have... Aria stirs nervously, "Are you done looking at me, are you not going to stick it in?" Remembering her warning, you apply a hefty dollop of lube to your dick before grasping her waist with one hand to hold her steady as you guide yourself in. Your tip presses against her folds before angling upwards enough to find her entrance, slipping suddenly inside of Aria's hole and causing her to jolt in surprise. Aria lets out a despairing groan as your cock fills her pussy, "I cannot fucking believe I'm actually doing this right now..." Whatever reservations Aria might be feeling went ignored by you as the sordid heat of her cunt can be felt even through the condom, and the pressure of her folds around her shaft had your eyes rolling. The streamer placidly stays in position as you thrust away at her rear, her lack of enthusiasm not bothering you in the slightest due to how excited you were to be fucking AriaSaki herself! This truly was a wet dream come true...

The steady slap of flesh fills the room as you plow Aria's bent-over form, the streamer gasping and groaning in a mixture of disgust and natural pleasure; her pussy cared not a whit about the moral implications of this coupling, merely that it was being filled. So as you continue to fuck her, the wet squelching noises that accompanied your sex seem to be growing louder with every passing minute, until... Until you can't hold on any longer, and with a moan you clutch at the streamer's waist as you thrust as deep as possible inside of her, your cock pulsating with pleasure as it fills the condom with semen. Aria gasps at your sudden motion, her butt clenching rhythmically as her body shudders, and you feel a film of wetness drips down your balls, "Oh my fucking god, did I just... from this?" Aria whines in horror, "What kind of slut climaxes just from some random guy cumming in her?" She buries her face in a pillow and screams into it, her feet drumming against the mattress. Once her tantrum subsides though, a red-faced Aria looks back at you and asks petulantly, "Are you going to pull out, or do I have to feel you going soft inside of me?" With such a bitchy attitude, in your post-coital clarity you were starting to question whether even your favorite was worth nutting inside for 20,000 dollars.

Acceding to Aria's wishes, you gingerly unmount her, allowing your cock to slip out, along with the reservoir of semen dangling from the tip of it. The streamer collapses onto her side, and then gawps when she spots the massive load contained within your condom, "What the heck," she squawks, tentatively poking at the yolk-like mass of jizz hanging from the end of your dick, "That would... that would have all gone... in me?" You blush at Aria's prodding, you had saved up all week for her, but even you were shocked by the sheer quantity of cum you had unloaded for her; and that had been with minimal help from her as well. When you start to remove the condom she stops you though, seemingly mesmerized by what it contains. Aria breathes rapidly, and appears unaware that one of her hands is getting rather busy between her thighs, as her face slowly moves closer to the object of her obsession, "I-I came, I came from this?" Aria's face becomes completely flushed as she masturbates while you watch, "I-I'm a slut!" she gasps out, her fingers furiously churning her cunt, "I'm a prostitute, a fucking whore, oh fuck it feels so good!" Aria's eyes narrow as she drowns her shame in a tide of lust, she knew what she was doing was wrong, and it filled her with a lustful mania to be doing it. She pants as her tongue lolls, and she hesitantly licks the swaying sack of seed, before letting out a sultry groan as she orgasms, her entire body shivering until it passes; and she looks up and gives you a lascivious smile.

AriaSaki reaches up and gently removes your condom for you, though you had grown so flaccid that it was about to fall off anyways, and then to your complete shock, empties it into her mouth. The streamer lets out a muffled moan as your thickening seed fills her mouth, her tongue visibly roiling it around as she savors the harsh taste of your semen. Well savor might perhaps be a touch too strong a word, as Aria gags violently, nearly expelling the load all over the bed before recovering and returning to attempting to swallow it. All the while her finger's continue to be busy stirring her slit, as she fights to overcome her disgust through sheer pleasure; until with a grimace the foul fluid slides down her throat. Aria trembles as yet another round of squelches come from between her shivering thighs, and when she opens her eyes again to stare up at you, her face is a mask of arousal. Her ample chest heaves as she struggles to breathe, "I think... I think I'm down for round two..." Aria glances at your cock and seems unsurprised that it is nearly fully erect once more. Naturally, watching your favorite streamer swallow your cum while masturbating, had indeed made you hard once more, powering through the aftereffects of your first orgasm with gusto.

Aria tentatively grasps your cock, slowly stroking it while judging your reactions, "Are you ready for it again?" she asks, making you nod frantically in affirmation, causing a sultry smile to spread across her lips, "Fuck, I'm ready for it again..." The streamer promptly turns about and bends over once more, though this time her back is lasciviously arched and she spreads her cheeks with both hands. She coughs pointedly when you slap your bare member against her slit however, even lost in a fugue of lust, she still expects you to wear protection. This time when you take Aria from behind, she is far more vocal about it, screeching into the sheets while your cock churns her sopping cunt until it is gushing all down her thighs, wailing for you to fuck her harder. The slap of her surprisingly well-sized cheeks against your crotch echoes around the room as you relentlessly plow her, now you truly felt like you were getting your money's worth pounding away at AriaSaki's sloppy pussy! Her folds tighten greedily around your shaft as you fill her, desperate for the seed that would invariably fill the condom, yet dumbly hungry for it anyways. Your core burning from your efforts, you slow down, switching to slow, long thrusts as you struggle to catch your breath. Aria glances back at you in confusion, tears glistening on her cheeks, "Wait, did you finish already?" she says in exasperation before hearing your frantic denials, "Okay good. Want to swap positions?"

After taking a minute to recover, Aria rolls onto her back and spreads her legs for you, showing off the sopping mess you helped make between her lower lips. She smirks as you lean down to closely examine her pussy, drinking in the details that you missed during your only cursory inspection of it framed by her butt. Aria puts a hand on your head and guides you in, gasping with delight as you dig into her swollen folds, "Oh fuck yes, taste it, fucking eat it!", she quivers delightfully as your tongue laps its way up her slit, "Fuck I cannot believe this feels so good..." By the time you are finished, a fresh slick of juices spills out and soaks her asshole, and she is more than ready, and you more than rested, to continue. With a sleazy grin, Aria pulls her legs back until they are behind her head, her meaty tits squished between them, and her pussy completely vulnerable to your attentions. As you slap your hardening dick against her, you comment on how much she looks like a fleshlight like that, which only seems to excite her even more, "Oh yeah? Does it turn you on thinking I'm just a filthy pocket pussy for you to dump your loads into? That I'm just a whore addicted to random guy's fucking cocks?" she snarls up at you. Well, she said it first...

You mount Aria then and there, slipping your covered cock into her hole and placing yourself atop her thighs, your body weight squishing down onto her in a classic mating press position. Your sex was fantastically intimate, face-to-face as your manhood plunges deep inside of her, it was only natural that you begin to sloppily make out; you had already fucked her twice and this was the first time you had kissed her. Aria's lips were as soft as you had expected, though her tongue was almost off-puttingly aggressive as it forces its way into your mouth. As enjoyable as being pressed against your favorite streamer with her arms locked tightly around you was however, your thighs were already starting to scream from the effort; this position was far more difficult than porn had made it out to be... So after taking a short rest laying on her soft body you reluctantly pull out of her embrace, much to her obvious bemusement at your lack of stamina. You haul Aria to the edge of the bed, her dress dragging against the sheets, bunching uncomfortably up against her breasts and revealing her fertile belly. Who blushes at the reveal of her somewhat pronounced tummy, but she is soon distracted from her gloomy thoughts as you spank her clit with your cock once more.

Now you are able to get more solid thrusts in, while being able to grind your member deep inside of Aria's guts had been quite pleasant, pounding away at her contorted body like a cheap toy was even better. And Aria seems to agree, if her rising voice is any indicator; soon she is howling as loudly as she had been when you had mounted her from behind for the second time. Grasping her sweaty thighs to hold her steady, you relentlessly slam your cock into her sloppy folds, her juices soaking the sheets beneath her as she leaks uncontrollably, "Oh fuck, I'm getting used," Aria groans, "My pussy is getting used like a fucking onahole, why does it feel so good to be a fucking whore?" Her cunt sloshes excitedly, squelching loudly as her entire body starts to quiver, "Fuck, it's happening again! I'm fucking cumming again! Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck, OH FUCK!" Aria gasps as a stream of fluids gushes out of her pussy, her eyes rolling back as she shudders, squirt spraying with every convulsion as her folds spasm around your shaft. You nearly join her in orgasm, but her shaking is so violent is expels your cock, the streamer unfolding herself and laying on her side until the pleasure surging through her finally subsides. Aria looks blearily up at you, "Fuck... I haven't squirted in like a year... Why am I enjoying this so much?"

Shaking off her reflective lapse in arousal, Aria returns to her cock-hungry state for ignoring the moral implications of selling her body, and needily spreads her legs for you once more. But after that last effort, you were exhausted, sweat slicking your skin while your back and abs scream with soreness, you might need a few minutes... But Aria doesn't have a few minutes to wait and ponder her situation, so instead she orders you back onto the bed, "Okay, just... just lay down, I'll get on top this time..." You are admittedly more than happy to let her take charge, her bossy attitude while streaming had always scratched at a particular itch, and your dick shows its enthusiasm by staying at attention. So you clamber onto the bed and settle down onto your back, your condom-sheathed cock resting stickily upon your chest, the rubber made almost opaque from Aria's juices. The streamer winces as she straddles you, her own legs a touch cramped after spasming while stuck behind her head, but she shows no sign of stopping to stretch out a little. Instead she seems intent on stretching out her pussy some more using your manhood, as she slides salaciously upon it, smearing yet more of her honey onto it. Giving into a whim, you reach up and yank the top of her dress down, allowing one boob to pop out while the other remains awkwardly caught in the tight fabric.

Rolling her eyes, Aria properly pulls her breasts out for you and leans back, allowing you to drink in the sight of her weighty tits sagging down her chest. She seems somewhat self-conscious about showing them off, but you are quick to reassure her by vigorously groping those flesh globes. Aria's thick, brown nipples harden quickly from your attentions, her pillowy boobs so large they are nearly spilling out of your hands, "Geez, you guys always love these so much, don't you?" she sighs, grinding all the harder upon your member, "Fuck, I need it..." Letting you continue to freely maul her tits, Aria squats over your cock, pulling it upright against her folds before sitting on it. You both groan as your dick slides into the familiar warmth of her pussy, the streamer taking it to the hilt and pressing her puffy lower lips against your crotch. Slowly, but swiftly starting to speed up, AriaSaki rides your cock, her thighs pistoning up and down your length with a frantic energy, her juices splattering across your chest with every bounce. Her face is beet ride as she fucks you, before she had been able justify her shameful arousal from letting a stranger use her for money with her passivity, but now that she was on top, she had no excuse to be enjoying this as much as she was, "Oh fuck!" she screams, "I'm a fucking whore! I'm a fucking whore! I'm fucking cumming on some rando's cock like a slut! Fuck, this feels too good!"

A fresh gush of squirt heralds Aria's climax, and she collapses down onto you, shuddering uncontrollably as her cunt floods her brain with pleasure. Your hands fervently roam her back, groping her squishy ass with glee until she recovers enough to continue riding you once more. Her pussy was so wet you could practically feel it slathering your shaft with every bounce, and it's burning heat made it feel as if you were not wearing a condom at all. Aria's messy hair sticks to her sweaty face as she fucks you, her face locked in a paroxysm of lust, "You fucking love it, don't you?" she salaciously licks her lips, "You love watching your favorite streamer turn into a slut for you? You love watching me begging it for it? Fucking give it to me!" she snarls, "I want your fucking cum!" she shrieks as she slams herself down onto you again and again, her folds gripping you like a vice. Having nearly finished twice already, your balls were more than ready to mindlessly empty themselves into this virile slut, and you hold desperately onto her waist as she rides your load out of you; her breasts flopping wildly as she does so. With a loud moan, you creampie AriaSaki, every fresh spurt of cum sending shivers through your body, filling the condom to capacity with your thick seed. The streamer quivers atop you, your sweaty skin stuck together as you both gasp for breath, and you felt as if you had just lost a year of life from orgasming so hard. Aria smiles blearily down at you before her face twists in confusion, "Wait, why is it...?"

Aria scrambles up off of you, hurriedly unmounting you before shoving her fingers into her cunt before dragging out a string of creamy fluid. She looks at the goop coating her fingers in shock, before you both look down at your cock as realization dawns; it turns out you had been feeling her wetness. Several inches of bare skin stands proudly above the yellow wrapping of the torn condom, streaked with your conjoined juices; insufferably proud of itself. Aria gawps at it for several moments before stammering, "Wait wait wait wait, that means... oh gOD YOU CAME IN ME?" she frantically scoops out yet more of your semen, hyperventilating as she processes the scale of this disaster, if it was as big as your last load then... "Oh FUCK," she groans in despair, "Am I gonna get pregnant? Did I really just get knocked up by some random guy?" her fingers stop scooping and instead start churning instead, "Fuck this is so risky! I need to... I need to..." her eyes roll back as she shudders once more, too busy drowning in pleasure to do anything about the unwanted creampie drying in her cunt. Desperate to continue outrunning the inevitable crash, she tears the remains of the condom off before bending down and taking you in her mouth.

Aria throws herself into the blowjob with reckless enthusiasm, her teeth scratching against your shaft while she gags violently from your tip banging against the back of her throat. You wince as your cockhead grinds against her molars, and you hesitantly suggest you take this to the edge of the bed once more...? "Oh, um okay?" Aria looks up at you in confusion, clearly worried that she was doing something wrong. She understands though when you get her to lay on the mattress, her head tilted back over the edge, and her tongue lolls expectantly as you rest your dick against it. Your brain was working overtime to overcome the usual post-climax downtime, and the stimulation from Aria's hole would assist greatly in that. And this time when you fill her mouth, you are easily able to push onwards into her throat. The streamer gurgles as your meat fills her throat, and a noticeable bulge shows in her neck, the sight of which dispels any lingering hesitations. Grunting like a beast, you fuck Aria's face with abandon, your cock roughly stuffing itself down her hole again and again, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically as she struggles to breathe. Spittle pours out of her mouth and erupts out of her nostrils as your balls slap against her nose, running down her forehead and into her hair while she steadily continues to masturbate even as her mouth is getting abused. Her breasts wobble enticingly upon her heaving chest while you relish the warm, wet hole you are fucking, and you know how you want to finish.

You pull out of Aria's mouth, and your dick is soon followed by a fresh gush of spittle that pours down her face as she gasps for air. She hurriedly scoops the frothy fluids out of her eyes as you haul her back onto the bed and clamber onto her chest, and she smirks knowingly as you grope her breasts, "You fucking want-" she coughs, "my fucking tits don't you?" her hands shove yours off of her breasts so she can squish them around your cock, and you start thrusting before she is even able to position it properly. You groan as the soft flesh of her boobs presses in around your shaft, it felt even better than you had fantasized, and you feel your balls quickly rising as you continue to hump her chest. Aria bites her lip and nods frantically, "Oh yeah, you fucking love my boobs, don't you? How many times have you beat your cock to my huge fucking tits?" she leans forward and sticks her tongue out, licking at your tip whenever it peeks out between her fleshy mounds, "I know you fap to me all the time, thinking about me on my knees with my slutty fucking tits out out for you... Yeah? Yeah you fucking do you fucking pervert! Oh fuck! Do it, fucking do it!" You are almost blubbering as you reach your orgasm, desperately fucking AriaSaki's massive breasts while she naughtily urges you on, precum already slopping out down her neck. With a howl you explode between her boobs, your load filling her cleavage before your cock slips out and your next ropes splatter against her open mouth and face. You frantically stroke your dick, working out the last dregs of sperm from you balls as you cover Aria's nipples with thick globs of cum, "Oh fuck yes," Aria exults as you paint her chest with your semen.

Aria happily sucks you clean, and while she does an idea pops into your head that you cannot ignore. You reach for your phone, which surprisingly had not been launched off the bed by your vigorous sex, and the streamer smiles dreamily as you hold it above her. You heart hammers as you drink in the sight through your camera: the famous AriaSaki with your softening cock resting between her tits, her breasts streaked with sweat and lines of cum, throwing up a double peace-sign while her spittle and jizz slathered face was twisted into the most depraved ahegao you had ever seen. It was almost enough to get you hard again, almost. But then Aria's alarm goes off on her phone, and you both glance over at it, realizing that your two hours were up, just in time. The streamer coughs awkwardly, and you scramble off her as she woozily lurches upright, giving you a shell-shocked look as she processes what she had just done. Sure, she was up 20,000 dollars, but now she had a stranger's semen roiling in her stomach, his sperm was wriggling its way into her womb, and his load covered her entire upper body. Aria lets out an exhausted sigh, before giving you a gloomy glare, "I think you should leave now," she says testily, before collapsing back onto the stained sheets. Not wanting to endure her infamous rages (by this point the poor neighbors had probably heard enough screaming already), you hastily dress before departing. And as you leave you hear her groan, "Oh my fucking god, he CAME IN FUCKING PUSSY! NEVER! NEVER AGAIN!", and you promptly slam the door shut to drown out the rest of her enraged shrieks.

A month later and you were at it again, perusing the backpages for hot escorts to masturbate to. Your time spent with Aria if anything had increased your arousal towards escorts, and when you were not pounding one out to her streams or your own memories of your time with her, or even that picture, you were pumping away to images of some lady of the night. Your heart nearly stops though when you come across a familiar advertisement for an insane price, it couldn't be. She said she would never do it again... But when you open it, you see that it was posted recently, and unlike before the description now was for a "No limits prostitute, please get tested so that you can fuck me raw in any way you want, my curvy Asian body is yours to use!" You are shaking as you type out a message, inquiring when she would next be available, and you almost pass out when you receive a response. A lewd selfie of Aria with her tongue sticking out, her arm pushing up her fat tits, precedes the message: "You again? Make sure to get tested this time so you can fuck me bareback properly this time! I love being your nasty little whore..."

Well, it seems like you will be spending the rest of your life ruinously in debt, but at least you will be spending it balls deep inside of AriaSaki's pussy!

[feluka]

"I haven't heard of him, so he's not real" ~smartest person in these notes.

Ahmed (90-ghost) has been on this site for a decade before 10/7 (easily verifiable through looking in his archive. Here's the link for you.)

He has been interviewed by TMV on his experience fleeing from Gaza, in which he names GFM as his source for donations.

You believe they are scams because you WANT them to be scams. Everybody in the reblogs thinking they're putting their detective hats on and being so clever then the "evidence" they cite can be easily explained by the simple fact that most of these people are communicating with machine translation on a site they're unfamilair with, a fact many of you would understand if you bothered to SPEAK to those people.

Fortunately Arabic is my mother tongue so I've been able to easily communicate with and befriend many of those people. They regularly update me with recent photos, videos, and voice messages of their situation daily.

Many of my friends who don't speak Arabic have been able to communicate, though awkwardly, with Gazans as well, and have been able to set up those GFMs for them, as GFM isn't available in Gaza so you need someone abroad to set it up for you, so I know you could've done that.

But you won't do that, because it makes you uncomfortable, because you want to forever think of Gazans as an anonymized, out of reach group that you can vaguely think of as "oh, these poor things" (that's me being generous on your stance) instead of being confronted with the reality that they're closer to you than you think, able to speak for themselves and are actively pleading through this genocide.

You'd rather pat yourself on the back and deluding yourself into thinking you're the smartest of the bunch, the one of the few remaining people capable of critical thinking on this site, unlike the rest of us dumb fucks, when really every point you've brough up as a concern is something that the rest of us have looked into deeply before engaging, instead of looking at the first superficial "mistake" and going "Ha! this is so obviously a scam. Everybody else is an idiot. I'm the only clever person around here."

You'd rather ignore the English-speaking Palestinians on this website who have put aside so, so much time at the cost of their health during the incredibly painful experience of witnessing the genocide of their people, to weed out the actual scams, and develop a system to organize and set apart the vetted families from the scammers, as well as blogs like @kyra45 that are putting in the good work of investigating scams and keeping tabs on those changing URLs to avoid being scam busted, and providing ample proof of those being scams beyond the superficial "this non English-speaking person used a copy-pasted template with emojis in it!"

I hope one day you'll realize the real harm you're causing for real people that are trying to make ends meet in a dreadful situation, but I'll never forget that during the most difficult time my friends have been going through, people like you were constantly decrying them without proof and rallying this already racist website against them.

I guess I should thank you for the free blocklist.

don’t worry you can trust THIS gofundme because it was vetted by a tumblr blog you’ve never heard of that is almost identical to the ones posting the ebegging link

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hey can you do a reader oneshot where the player ended up become heavily emaciated from enduring starvation for so long to collapsing in the cave where Doey found them and take them to the Safe Haven where they interact with the Toys( and getting some food to be fed )? Something dark yet ended up getting a good ending

You, the ex-employee, have spent days or perhaps weeks starving, a shell of your former self. Your body, once strong and capable, is now reduced to little more than skin and bones. The hunger gnaws at you from within, twisting your thoughts into a blur of desperation. The world around you feels distant, as though your senses are failing, and every step you take becomes more of a struggle. 

time seemed to pass so differently where the light reached nowhere, you left it awhile ago. falling into the cold and cadaverous crypts, you could truly feel the full force of the torment that went on for the experiments here.

"sonuva-" You curse, taking another ragged step. the shortness of your breath was not left unnoticed by you yourself, it felt as if you were a shot-down tail-spun plane. there was no love here, not for you. you shake your head, trying to vy for some unforgotten strength you didn't muster just yet.

however, it seemed that wasn't the case.

unfortunately.

Collapsing into the cold, damp embrace of a forgotten cave within the Playtime Co. facility, your body gives way to exhaustion. You lie there, barely conscious, drifting between the waking world and the comforting darkness of unconsciousness. The hunger, the cold, the pain—each one seems like an insurmountable force in itself, but you no longer have the strength to fight.

the human body could be and has been impressive, proven in many cases. able to take on pain like nothing else or just even react faster and quicker then the average species of planet earth.

though, your body was nothing short of that. it was just that, average as anything else. in fact, it was already impressive enough that you managed to muster the energy to continue going on after the sudden self-imposed train crash after you had incidentally freed poppy. something you began to regret doing.

back then, you had repeatedly questioned poppy. to which she had only said a few decent answers, pick and choose you suppose. some seemed to hit home deeply, leaving her to deflect those specific ones. however, it's not as if you had a choice in the matter anyway. having no where else to go but----forward.

forward.

how ironic.

even if you had dearly wished for the children of playtime, each and every victim to have justice for their strife. you just couldn't keep going, you were just a human. only a human, against all those wrapped in monster-skins and facades.

you let out a sigh, wondering what you have done in your life; or any past lives for that matter as you cast an agonizingly long glance despite the pain, at the cold and desolate corners and hallways. the lights that flicker, and the shadows that the monsters prowl from within. you just wished something, or someone had ended you already.

people lost lives to this damned facility, what's one more?

It is there, in the deepest shadows of your despair, that Doey finds you. The plump, clay-like creature, bright and colorful in contrast to the gloom, seems to appear from nowhere. His long, playful limbs extend towards you, lifting you carefully from the ground as if you're nothing more than a fragile doll. Despite his cheery appearance, there is a certain understanding in his movement—a deep empathy that shines through the usual cheerfulness. Doey knows the pain of being lost, of enduring torment. 

you let out a low groan as the strange toy had jostled you to a safe position within his arms, or something on his body, you couldn't tell.

"Why?" is all you ask your savior.

though he didn't respond---that was something you had often asked of anyone and everything, in the factory of Playtime, that was all you seemed to ask. Especially since that very question circulated with finally finding out the bigger bodies initiative had existed, you weren't a higher up, no way; so you had no knowledge of such a thing.

not up until now.

The faint hum of the factory’s empty halls echoed through the long-abandoned Playcare dome. Dust and neglect had taken hold of the once-vibrant space, but none of this phased you now. your hand clutched the tape you had found hidden deep in a forgotten cabinet. It wasn’t the regular assortment of old company VHS tapes. No, this one was different. Something about the way it was buried, shoved aside, felt off. 

you slipped it into the player, fingers trembling. The grainy images flickered to life on the screen, an old commercial featuring Poppy, the doll that haunted you in your nightmares. But as you watched, you realized that something was wrong. This wasn’t just a commercial. The footage had been tampered with, and a series of frantic scribbles beneath the screen flashed warnings—"The bigger bodies initiative... They've been watching... they're still here..."

The tape abruptly cut off, and you stood frozen, mind racing. The implications were horrifying. The factory had always been a place of mystery, but this? This was worse. This wasn’t just about the toys. They had known about them—about you. And what had happened to the others? The missing employees? They weren’t just gone. They were still here. The realization was a bitter pill lodged in your throat, one you couldn’t swallow.

you growled, low and guttural, as anger boiled in your veins. The truth was out. And they had been hiding it from you and everyone else at the time. The bigger bodies—what were they doing here? Why weren’t you told? your thoughts spiraled, the once-seemingly innocent world of Playcare now twisted by the weight of this new knowledge.

The factory—your former place of employment—had become a prison of shadows and manipulation, its walls now hiding dark secrets beneath every creaking floorboard. you couldn't shake the feeling that it had always been like this. The sinister undercurrent had always been there, but you had never been able to see it until now.

you could feel the fury building in your chest, breaths coming quicker and quicker as you paced back and forth in the empty hall. The VHS tape had given you more than answers—it had opened a door you weren't prepared for, but now you couldn’t just walk away from it. No, there was no turning back now. 

your mind raced with the consequences of this discovery. There had been whispers among the employees, hushed voices passing around rumors of experiments, of something far more sinister happening in the darkest corners of Playcare. But you never took them seriously. you thought they were just scared, or paranoid. 

But now… now you saw it all for what it really was.

you gripped the worn edges of the tape, squeezing it so hard your knuckles turned white. your body tensed, ready to take action. This wasn’t a place to get scared. No, this was the moment for revenge. The factory had betrayed them—you—and it was time to find out who was behind this horrific "bigger bodies initiative." Whoever they were, whatever they were planning, you were going to stop them.

you headed for the deepest part of the factory, the place where the truth always seemed to lurk, hidden beneath layers of deception. The bigger bodies—they would pay for what they had done. 

And you would make sure no one ever came back here again.

You don’t know how long you’ve been out of it, but when you open your eyes again, you're in a place far brighter, warmer. A safe haven. The walls are decorated with worn-out toys that had long sought refuge, old but somehow still exuding life. You feel a strange sense of comfort in this room, where light and color seem to welcome you rather than mock your exhaustion. Doey, ever kind and patient, places a small meal in front of you. It's simple, but it's enough. The warmth of food, the comforting presence of someone who cares, stirs something deep within you—a feeling you thought had long since withered away. 

"thank... you" you rasped, barely managing the words you so wished to say.

Doey nods, as if he was conflicted for a moment, but then returns your sentiment with a gentle smile; "don't worry, you just rest up. we'll talk later." He pauses for a moment, almost trying to think of something else to say. Maybe words of comfort.

but he doesn't, and instead says, "okay?"

you nod simply, leaving your mind to wonder about your allies poppy and kissy missy.

As you eat, the toys around you, though broken and tired, offer their own forms of solace. Some of them play quietly nearby, others rest, and a few approach to offer small gifts or gestures of comfort. Among them, Doey's eyes—those holes where his face should be—soften, as if trying to reassure you without words. You are no longer alone. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight of starvation, fear, and loss lifts. You don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, you are safe. The darkness that once seemed suffocating begins to lift, and you realize, for the first time in a long while, that maybe—just maybe—there is still hope. The twisted factory and its horrors are far from over, but in this small corner of the world, you have found a sliver of peace.

Doey, ever the protector, watches over you as you rest, and though the path ahead may be fraught with danger and uncertainty, you are no longer alone. You have found the strength to carry on, even if just for another day. And in that, there is hope.

[steveseddie]

come sleep with me

written for @steddielovemonth day 14 “come sleep with me: we won’t make love, love will make us” | the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event, prompt: mutual pining | the @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: love

rating: t | wc: 915 | no cw | tags: friends with benefits, mutual pining, idiots in love

read on ao3

Any other day Eddie would be thrilled to have Steve like this– half-naked under him, flushed and squirming from Eddie kissing all over his chest. 

Part of him sure is interested, but the rest knows that when Steve called earlier and asked him to come over, he probably should’ve said no. 

But if there’s something Eddie isn’t good at, it’s telling Steve no. 

Otherwise, how would he end up hooking up with Steve on the regular while knowing fully well that he was setting himself up for heartbreak?

So Eddie said yes, and he came over despite being physically and mentally exhausted from an entire week of awful nightmares. He thinks he’s doing a decent job at shoving it all away to pay attention to Steve. That is until he feels Steve’s hand grab hold of his neck and use it to pull him up so he can look at his face and ask– “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Eddie shakes his head, his hair falling around them. “Nothing,” he lies. Badly if the way Steve arches an eyebrow at him means anything. Eddie heaves out a sigh. “I– I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve had nightmares all week. I’m so tired and there’s just so much in my head right now–”

Of course, Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to act mad or disappointed but he’s still surprised by how gently he brushes Eddie’s hair off of his face, his eyes soft as he stares up at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Eddie lets out a snort. “Yeah because telling the guy you’re making out with that you can’t stop thinking about demobats ripping into your flesh is such a turn-on,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Tugging at Eddie’s hair, Steve half-heartedly rolls his eyes. “I meant earlier, Eds.” 

“I guess I was hoping that this was what I needed,” Eddie admits, shrugging. 

“What you need is sleep.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

When Steve gently shoves Eddie off of him, he takes that as his cue to leave. Especially when Steve walks over to his closet and puts on some sweatpants. Now that he knows nothing is happening between them tonight, it makes sense that Steve is getting ready for bed.  

Which means Eddie should probably get out of his way. 

He just found his jeans and is about to put them back on when Steve tosses something at him. It lands at his feet– a pair of sweatpants.  

“Do you need a shirt too or are you sleeping shirtless?” Steve asks, still rummaging through his closet. 

Eddie stares blankly at his naked back. “Um, what?” 

“Do you want to borrow a shirt?” He asks, glancing at Eddie over his shoulder. His lips tug up into a smirk when he adds, “I have a Tears for Fears shirt you’d look great in, I think.” 

Eddie takes too long to think of a comeback and Steve frowns, probably expecting him to jump at the thought of wearing a shirt of a band that plays anything other than heavy metal. And he would, if he wasn’t busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that Steve seems to think he’s staying over. 

He’s never done that even after they started hooking up. 

Steve’s eyes dart to the jeans Eddie is holding in his hand. “You weren’t planning on sleeping in those, were you?” He asks with a chuckle. 

“No, I– I was gonna go home.”

Steve’s mouth twists downward. “Why?” 

Because they don’t sleep together. They have sex and then Eddie leaves. It hurts every time, but he knows it would hurt more if he stayed and woke up next to Steve –or, god forbid, in Steve’s arms– only for it not to mean anything to him.

“I– we never– we don’t do that–”

“I know,” Steve says, sucking his lip between his teeth. “But what– what if I want us to do that?” 

Eddie blinks. “Sleep together?” 

“No, yeah,” Steve rubs a hand against his neck, “but also, um– other things.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Like?”

“Like going on dates and cuddling and holding hands, maybe not in public but like, in front of our friends if you’re okay with that and–”

“Steve, Stevie, are you– are you saying you want to date me?” Eddie asks, his voice an octave higher, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

“Yeah,” Steve softly admits and Eddie can’t help but gasp. “But I– I promise I didn’t feel this way when we started this, and I was going to say something to you, but I was nervous that you didn’t–”

“I did! I do! Feel that way. Since before we started this, even. If anyone should’ve said anything, it’s me,” Eddie stammers out. “I thought I was setting myself up for heartbreak when you eventually found someone else and stopped wanting me–”

“I wouldn’t, I won’t. In fact,” Steve says, starting to smile. He moves closer to Eddie, one of his hands brushing against his fingers. “I’m crazy about you, Eds.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie mutters, and then he’s cupping Steve’s face and bringing him closer so he can kiss him squarely on the lips. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but it’s definitely different.

“So,” Steve starts, pulling back only enough to get the words out. “Is that a yes?” 

“To dating you?” Eddie asks, their lips brushing together. Steve nods. 

And well, Eddie still can’t say no to Steve, so he says–

“Yes.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Operation Lovebirds (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- oneshot

Happy belated Valentine's Day! In the spirit of making myself feel better, here's some unashamed fluff in between updates of The Gambit!

Summary: You make plans for the team to get drinks together after work on Valentine’s Day in an effort to make yourself feel better after a sudden breakup. The team decides to play matchmaker instead 😉

Warnings: oblivious reader, oblivious Hotch, PINING, YEARNING, past relationship/breakup woes, gender neutral terms for reader's ex, hotch is divorced but no foyet arc, awkward flirting (i think), happy ending ofc!!!

WC: ~5,200

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Aaron Hotchner since you started working at the BAU a year ago, it’s that he doesn’t go out.

You’re not really sure what it is that stops him, because even Rossi comes out with the team most nights, but in the year that you’ve been here, Hotch has come out three whole times. Three. In a year.

So, naturally, you’re the first to let the pure surprise show on your face when Hotch agrees to go out tomorrow night. In fact, you laugh.

He doesn’t.

“Oh my god,” you pause, smacking Morgan’s arm. “He’s being serious. Somebody get the champagne! Get me a calendar, I need to mark it.”

Hotch rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a small smile fighting at the corners of his lips like always when he hears your jokes. “Don’t get too excited. I might change my mind.” 

(The truth is, after seeing how excited you are, he won’t change his mind. He hasn’t seen you smile in a week.)

A week ago, the person you were dating broke things off rather randomly. You aren’t even sure if you can consider them as someone you were in a relationship with, since based off their final message to you, it seems they didn’t see things that way. Regardless, it ended, and it was something that, for the first time, you had high hopes for. You thought it might’ve been real.

So, yeah, Hotch hasn’t seen you smile in a week. He knows something is wrong, but hasn’t had the courage to ask, in case he’s overstepping. The two of you get along just fine to work together, and you’ve had a few heart-to-hearts over the months, especially on late night flights when everyone else is asleep and you’re the only two wide awake. But those feel…different than this.

Hotch is just happy that his idea worked. He knew if he could joke about going out, it would put the bug in your ear, and you’d make the plans. Which is how he found himself agreeing to go out to a bar tomorrow after work.

Tomorrow just so happens to be Valentine’s Day. So what if Hotch selfishly wanted to spend the day with you in some capacity outside of the office, but was too scared to ask outright? So what if he’s a little happy at the fact that you have no plans other than inviting everyone out to drinks?

He’s a little worried given that he thought you were seeing someone, but he thought that was his imagination. You never mentioned dating anyone to anyone on the team, Hotch was just putting pieces together to hurt his own feelings.

Except. You haven’t smiled in a week, and you’re suddenly free for drinks after work…on Valentine’s Day.

Hotch tries not to think about it too much. He doesn’t want to think about you being sad any more than he’s had to this past week with your silent moods and halfway smiles. That alone has already twisted something into a knot in his chest.

“This is perfect!” your excitement is palpable. “This might be the first time I get everyone out at once. Derek, do not let me down. Bring your date!”

“Fine, fine,” Derek concedes. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come -- after her and I have had a very romantic dinner,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder in the same sibling way you always interact with Morgan, but Hotch watches you carefully, noticing the hint of sadness behind your eyes.

Fuck. You were seeing someone. That’s the only explanation, and they broke your heart -- a week before Valentine’s Day, might he add -- and it must’ve felt real to you because why else would you have that devastated look in your eyes?

Hotch, unsurprisingly, has harbored somewhat of a schoolgirl crush for you since about a month after you started working at the BAU. It took Rossi precisely one week to notice, but you’re going on month eleven of being blissfully unaware. Morgan has given Hotch a couple knowing looks but has yet to call him out on it. If JJ and Emily know (and they do), they haven’t said anything, least of all to you. Garcia is well aware after she caught Hotch watching you wistfully from his office one afternoon, but she hasn’t mentioned anything to you.

Rossi has, of course, tried to talk Hotch into making a move -- even a half-move, a hint of a move -- but Hotch refuses. Mostly because he had suspicions you were seeing someone, but also because he just can’t imagine someone like you having the same feelings for someone like him. It’s bizarre.

As everyone listens to your giddy pre-planning of where to go for drinks and what to wear, knowing looks are shared by the team -- looks that you and Hotch are left out of.

+++

You’re trying on the fourteenth outfit and trying to hold yourself together when you nearly cancel drinks to lie in bed in a pit of despair.

But that’s dramatic and irrational, so you try on a fifteenth outfit, say fuck it, and grab your car keys.

You’ll be a little early to the bar, but you don’t mind. Might as well get out before you lose the will to go back out again.

You just couldn’t stomach sitting inside, alone on Valentine’s Day, not during this rollercoaster of emotions that you’re feeling. Especially not now.

It’s not that you thought you had found the one, it’s the fact that you thought maybe they are. It’s not the fact that you were certain, it’s that you were so hopeful. You really thought things would go farther than that, and you never thought the crash and burn would be so random. 

You really thought this time was different. Because it felt different, it felt good. Only for it to end the same as always. 

You should be used to it by now, you think. People being uncertain of you. People being uncertain of how they want you in their lives. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a relationship with someone only for them to decide that suddenly they aren’t ready for a relationship. It doesn’t make any more sense than it did the last time, but this one certainly knocked the wind out of you from how unexpected it was.

No matter, though. Because tonight you’re dancing, laughing with friends, and hopefully smiling so hard that you forget about it all hurting so much.

When you get to the bar, you’re the first one there, so you slide up to the bar and wave the bartender down, getting started with your first drink.

Unfortunately, no one cute catches your eye -- yet. You’re not exactly sure if you want to flirt with anyone tonight, but it could be fun. Could take your mind off things.

You’re halfway done with your first drink when Derek texts the group chat. Dinner got a little delayed. See y’all in a bit.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means by delayed. You snort and text back telling him it’s fine.

JJ is next. Couldn’t find a babysitter so Will and I are staying in! So sorry guys!

You frown, but it’s fine. You were worried about whether they'd be able to find a babysitter so soon.

No one else says a word, so you assume they’re all free.

Except that they don’t show.

You’re getting a little annoyed as the minutes tick by until you see, like a knight in shining armor, Aaron Hotchner walks through the doors.

You smile in pure relief and disbelief that he’s actually here, waving him over. He spots you and a soft smile settles on his lips, making a beeline for you at the bar.

Couples are sitting on either side of you, so Hotch stands behind you, your body suddenly very aware of how close he is.

“You look surprised to see me,” he teases.

You stare up at him, mystified. “Because I am.”

Hotch orders a whiskey on the rocks and another of whatever you’re having, opening a tab. Your brain short circuits a moment too late when you realize he’s just bought you a drink.

You don’t mention it, unsure of what exactly it means. Or what exactly you want it to mean.

When the bartender brings the drinks over, Hotch leans down to speak to you over to growing crowds and conversations. “There’s an open booth over there if you want to move somewhere more comfortable?”

Your mind spins with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts as you nod. “Booth sounds nice.”

You were unaware of just how many people had flooded into the bar since Hotch arrived, your focus clearly all on him and how close he was to touching you. Your fingers lightly touch Hotch’s back as you follow him through the crowd to the booth that he can see with his height.

Finally, you spot it, a miraculously free two-person booth at a table with a small lamp in the middle. It casts just enough shadows on Hotch’s face to make him look infinitely more attractive (something you hadn’t thought possible).

You’ve harbored a foolish crush on your boss since, well, the very beginning. It’s embarrassing.

Because you know that not only will he never feel the same way, it’s also highly against the rules at work and would be beyond frowned-upon. So, you suffer in silence, and try desperately not to think about what it might feel like to just kiss him. Just once.

That’s the alcohol and loneliness talking. You need to pull yourself together.

There’s precisely ten minutes of small talk before Hotch goes straight for the heart.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

For anyone else, it’s an unassuming question. It’s simple. It almost falls into the category of small talk, except it doesn’t. Not for two FBI profilers.

Still, you try to deflect with a shrug. “I’m alright. As alright as someone chronically single can be on Valentine’s Day, I guess. What about you?”

He’s not exactly in a different boat. He’s been single ever since his divorce a few years ago, as far as you know -- and you imagine you’d know because these sort of things get around in the BAU. The nosiest unit in the FBI, you always joke.

Hotch mirrors your shrug. “I’m alright.” He pauses, studying you. “I only ask because you’ve seemed…down lately.”

You grimace.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly adds, almost scrambling. “I know this is odd, I’m your boss and we’re sitting at a booth in a bar on Valentine’s Day, but, I want you to know, if you do want to talk -- about anything -- I’m here. I want to listen.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, feeling your facade as it slowly melts and drips away. “Thanks,” you avert your eyes, focusing instead on your drink that has barely two sips left. You have a comfortable buzz now, one that makes you a little quicker to let him in. “I was seeing someone that I was really hopeful about, for the first time, ever, and it ended randomly a week ago. Got a text just out of nowhere.” You pause, chuckling darkly. “I was in the middle of thinking about Valentine’s plans, actually, when I got the text. So.”

Hearing you confirm it out loud only makes Hotch’s heart twist and threaten to break. “I’m sorry,” he says, unsure of what else he can say, unsure of if there’s anything he can say to make it better. “I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Thanks,” you breathe, shaking your head a little to shake yourself out of it. You look up at Hotch and put on a fake, half-smile, the same one he’s seen you wearing the past week. “On to the next one, huh?” you joke. “If there even is a next one. If I even want there to be another one,” you add with a roll of your eyes. “I might have reached my limit for this shit.”

Hotch can’t even say that he blames you. “That’s understandable.”

There’s a trace of something in your eyes when you look at him, something he can’t read, but your smile is a little softer now, starting to look genuine. “Alright,” you clear your throat. “There’s my relationship woes. What about you? Breaking any hearts? Anyone breaking yours?”

He laughs at your change of subject, but shakes his head. “No, no, there’s no one.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t really wanted to, I suppose.” I’m too much of a coward to ask you out on a date, according to Rossi. “Maybe soon, though.”

Excitement glints in your eyes. “Ooh, there is someone, I knew it! Tell me immediately.” 

He just stares at you, fighting back a smile at your unbridled joy that he gets to witness. He is so glad he gets to see this expression on your face. “There’s not really someone, it’s kind of--” He pauses, looking down at his own glass, wondering how much he can say without giving himself away so embarrassingly. “I’ve been too afraid to do something.”

“Why?” you ask, sounding genuinely interested. “Is she dating someone?”

“She was,” he replies, perhaps too fast. “And I’m not certain she feels the same way, or else I’d have made a move by now,” he admits, thinking the whiskey is getting to him. “Maybe.”

“Aaron Hotchner, a shy, hopeless romantic,” you muse, leaning back in the booth with a smirk. “Who would’ve guessed?”

He gives you an almost pained look, hoping the awe seeps through the most. Because you have no idea, do you? You have no idea just what you do to him, just by talking to him, looking at him, making him laugh, letting him hear your laugh. He’s more of a goner than he originally thought.

He laughs off your teasing. “There are my woes,” he says, hoping that’ll be the end of it. “Where are the rest of the team, anyway?”

“Who knows,” you say, sounding unbothered, though you dig your phone out to see if anyone has texted. 

If you and Aaron hadn’t been so caught up in conversation for the past hour, then you would’ve seen that everyone has said they can’t make it or that they’ll be “late” which is only code for they won’t show. You frown down at the messages, some almost forty-five minutes old now, wondering what they’re up to. 

Aaron glances at his phone, too, finding a private message from David. Enjoy your date ;)

Hotch rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone. The team -- most likely led by self-proclaimed Cupid, David Rossi -- decided to play matchmaker. He should’ve known.

And you…you seem completely unaware.

“Whatever,” you exhale, exasperated. “I should’ve known better than to try to get everyone together on Valentine’s Day.” You pause, a sheepish look in your eyes. “I just really didn’t want to be alone, so,” you lightly tap Aaron’s leg with your foot, “thanks for coming and keeping me company.”

“Anytime,” he says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “Should we get another drink?”

You hum. “I was actually getting kinda hungry.”

“You read my mind,” Aaron smiles. “Do they have food here?”

“Probably shitty bar food,” you reply. You look up at him through your lashes, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

He nods immediately, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. I know the perfect place.”

You grin almost instantly, standing up from the booth. “Lead the way.”

+++

The perfect place that Aaron knows is a hole-in-the-wall, family-run pizza joint that he has frequented for years, probably ever since he joined the BAU and moved out here. It’s open late, and half-full of other couples when you and Aaron arrive.

“Hey, Tony,” Aaron greets the owner with a firm handshake and smile. “Table for two, please.”

You watch as Tony gives Aaron a look before repeating his words, “Table for two, you got it, right this way, Hotchner.”

The way Tony says his name is reminiscent of a coach talking to his favorite player, right down to the playful swat of Aaron’s chest. It makes you smile.

“And who is the lucky lady?” Tony asks nonchalantly as he places the menus down on the table by the window.

You giggle, introducing yourself. “I wasn’t aware Aaron had connections here.”

It could be a trick of the dim lighting, but you swear you see Hotch blush as he shakes his head.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony says, standing back as you both sit. “I’ve known him for years, always coming here alone on Valentine’s Day. I’m just happy to see he’s brought someone with him this time.”

“Oh, we’re--” you start to say.

But Hotch interjects with, “That’s enough, Tony, thank you.”

You furrow your eyebrows only a little. He didn’t deny what Tony is implying.

You ignore it. Because you can’t let yourself read into it. That’s what always ends up burning you. You need to ignore it.

Tony leaves to let the two of you look at the menu, albeit going with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, trying to redirect. “Or should we just get a large and split it?”

“That might be easiest,” Hotch agrees. “Let’s do that.”

Tony returns to take your order and brings water with him, promising some wine if you’d like. You laugh him off and tell him the two of you just came from the bar. 

When the pizza comes out, the two of you dig in, both having not realized just how hungry you were. With more water and food on your stomach, the alcohol has begun to wear off. But you’re still happy you’re spending the night with Aaron.

Whoever it is that he’s got his eyes set on, she’s one lucky girl. You know that for sure.

As the night winds to a close, you watch him more closely, wanting to memorize this. Because if you have any say in it, he’s going to get that girl that he’s so hopelessly in love with already. He deserves that. Even if it means you’ll never have another night like this with him.

So, you tell him just that as he’s dropping you back off at home. You turn toward him in the passenger seat, a sad smile on your lips.

“I’m going to give some unsolicited advice, okay?” you begin.

He laughs, clearly wary. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Ask her out,” you say, hating the way you can feel the beginnings of tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. “Make a move. Don’t make her wait any longer. She might feel the same way, you never know, and you’ll never know, if you don’t ask her. So do it.”

He watches you, eyes studying every inch of your face. You don’t know it, but he’s trying to figure out why you look so sad as you’re saying this to him. How can you have no idea that it’s you, it’s always been you? How do you not know?

“That’s all,” you say, blinking the emotion out of your eyes. It’s gone so quick that he wonders if he imagined it. “Thank you for tonight, I really needed it. I’ll see you on Monday?”

He nods, all words foreign to him. “See you Monday. Enjoy your weekend.”

“You too,” you give him another smile.

He watches you leave, watches you get to your front door, waits for you to go inside. He stays there, waiting until he sees the lights turn on in your apartment, until he knows without a doubt that you are safe inside.

He drives away. And starts to think of a plan.

+++

Monday is a slow, tortuous day after a slow, tortuous weekend spent wondering yourself sick about if Hotch took your advice. If he spent the weekend with her, the girl that made his eyes go all soft when talked about her to you. If he was going to come into the office as a new man on Monday, feelings reciprocated, love radiating off him.

He didn’t, which you felt guilty for feeling relieved about.

He brought you a coffee, though. With a heart on the side of the cup. Probably from the barista who made it, you think. 

It’s a paperwork kind of day, so everyone leaves by 4:30, even Reid, though he leaves so early because he has an event at a bookstore to go to. Slowly, everyone trickles out, until it’s just you and Hotch.

You’re avoiding your empty apartment. Hotch is finishing up his work, while simultaneously building up the courage to ask you to dinner.

Time is ticking, this he knows, and he starts packing up as soon as he sees you standing to rinse out your coffee mug.

You’re just finishing gathering your things when you hear Hotch leaving his office, locking the door behind him. You look up at him with a smile.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” you tease, gesturing around at the barren BAU. “Why do we keep doing this?” 

It’s true that you’re usually the last two here, but this time feels different. There’s a different tension in the air that wasn’t here before, and you’re trying like hell to decipher if it’s good or bad.

“What are your plans for dinner?” he asks.

“Just leftovers or something,” you shrug. “You?”

“Well,” he says, letting out a soft, nervous laugh. “I was hoping to take someone out to dinner.”

You deflate a little. He must mean the girl. You try not to let it show in your tone, so you keep your head tucked, putting things away. “Did you ask her out? What’d she say?”

“That she had leftovers or something.”

Your hand freezes on your purse. You’re terrified to look up because if you do, then that means-- He can’t mean--

“I didn’t think I was so bad at this,” Aaron chuckles. “I guess it’s not muscle memory anymore.”

Slowly, slowly you lift your eyes. He’s sheepish. There is a blush on his cheeks, his smile is so damn hesitant, and you’re smiling before you can stop yourself.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Are you trying to ask me out on a date?”

“Emphasis on trying,” he says, looking so boyish. “Would you like to get dinner with me? Tonight, as a proper date?”

You nod right away, then stop yourself. “Wait, what about that girl you were telling me about?”

You’ve been “the other girl” before, and you refuse to do that again, not even for a man who looks like Aaron Hotchner.

But he laughs. Not at you, more at himself, at the situation. He shakes his head. “That girl is you,” he says. “I thought I was so obvious.”

“Wait--” you pause, blinking, the gears in your head stuttering and starting. “Me?”

He nods. “Since you started here. It was getting kind of embarrassing, according to Rossi.”

You giggle, unable to help yourself. Then pieces begin clicking into place. “Wait, so Valentine’s Day--”

“That was the team’s doing,” he nods to confirm. “Rossi got them in on it.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “And tonight?”

“Tonight was…just us being ourselves,” he confesses with a warm smile. “I didn’t tell any of them to leave so early.”

“And I just always stay a bit later,” you add. “Like you.”

“Like me,” he says. “Though you still leave before I do, most nights.”

“Yeah, because you sleep here, it seems like.”

“Hey,” he laughs, feigning hurt for a moment. “So…dinner?”

“Dinner,” you nod. “I’d love to get dinner with you, Aaron.”

“That’s a relief,” he breathes. “Can I take you somewhere again?”

You can take me anywhere you want, is what you want to say, but that feels a bit forward. “Of course,” you say instead. “Lead the way.”

+++

The team finds out the very next day, by pure accident.

Aaron drove you two to dinner last night straight from work, and the both of you were too caught up in it all to realize you left your car at work. Until it’s the next morning, you’re heading down to the parking lot of your apartment, car keys in hand, with your car nowhere to be found.

Aaron is walking through the BAU doors when his phone buzzes with a call from you. His heart skips as he answers, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, my love,” you reply easily. “Do you know where my car is? You get one guess.”

Hotch pauses, thinks, wondering why you’re asking him this question, until-- “Oh, shit,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you.”

“I can just take the bus,” you laugh just as hard. “I just wanted to tell you.”

You? On the bus? When he can easily just come get you? Absolutely not. “I’ll come get you,” he says again. “Let me set my things down, and I’ll be on my way to you.”

“Aaron--”

“Let me, please?” he asks, shoving inside his office to put his things down just inside the door. “I’m already walking back out to my car. We can get coffee and breakfast.”

“Okay,” you concede, finally. “I’ll wait.”

“I’ll be twenty minutes.”

It’s less time than that, actually, but you don’t call him out on it. Instead, you climb into his passenger seat with a smile.

“Long time no see,” you joke, buckling yourself in.

“I’m so sorry,” he laughs. “I completely forgot about your car.”

“I did too, don’t be sorry,” you reply, resting your hand on his arm. “It’s funny. And I’ll just drive it home tonight.”

He doesn’t want you to, he wants to always drive you around like this, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t want to come on too strong. “Okay. Well, for your troubles, we’ll get breakfast.”

“And coffee,” you sigh happily. “My turn to pick. I know the best place.”

He turns his phone toward you, the GPS already up. “Lead the way.”

When the two of you finally make it back to the BAU, the whole team is there, huddled around in the bullpen, clearly whispering about you and Hotch.

See, it’s rather suspicious when Hotch’s things are in his office, but he isn’t, especially an hour after he’s usually already got half the day’s work done. And your absence was noted too, as the minutes ticked by and no one had heard from you. And they knew the two of you were the last to leave last night.

Hotch holds open the glass door for you, laughing at something you’ve said (like always), the two of you unaware of the team meeting until you’re inside.

Everyone wears similar smirks. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Rossi chimes. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

“Just breakfast,” you say with a shrug.

“Mhm,” Morgan hums. “Where’s my breakfast?”

“Go away,” you groan, swatting him. “Why are you all around my desk? Boundaries!”

Just like that, the crowd disperses with some laughter, and Hotch is free to escape up to his office. Rossi is quick to follow him, interrogating him about his night.

“It was a great night,” Hotch replies, not wanting to give anything away. “You are an instigator.”

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi presses on.

Hotch makes a sound of disbelief. Rossi looks appalled.

“You didn’t?”

“There is such a thing as taking things slow, Dave,” Hotch replies.

“Alright,” Dave concedes. “But dinner was good?”

“Dinner was great,” Hotch reiterates, unable to hide his smile. “Now get out of my office so I can get some work done.”

Rossi leaves with a smirk so smug that Hotch hopes his face cramps up.

+++

Later in the evening, when once again it’s just you and Hotch left in the office, Hotch decides to pack up a little early. 

You’re in your own world, completely unaware that he’s heading out until he’s standing beside your desk. 

You lift your eyes, realizing he’s watching you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Ready to go?”

You glance at the clock. “I was actually--”

He shakes his head. “Come on.”

“What?”

“As your boss, I’m deciding you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, really?” you quirk an eyebrow. “And there wouldn’t happen to be any ulterior motives, would there?”

He shrugs, all sheepish again. “If you happened to be free for dinner again, I wouldn’t say no.”

“And if I’m not free?”

He’s unbothered. “Then I’ll walk you to your car and let you get to your plans.”

“Not even a kiss goodnight?” you tease as you start gathering your things.

Hotch goes quiet. “That can be arranged.”

“Okay,” you murmur, standing with your things. “Let’s go.”

He reaches out for your hand which you easily hold onto, walking with him to the elevators. As you wait for one to arrive, you look at him, taking in his side profile. He catches you looking from just the corner of his eye, starting to smile.

Once you step onto the elevator, you break the silence. “I desperately need to sleep early tonight, so raincheck on dinner?”

He nods. “Of course.”

You pause, testing the waters. “Coffee tomorrow, though?”

He smiles. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect,” you reply.

Hotch walks you to your car, as promised, and helps you set your things inside. He even opens the driver’s side door for you. You’re about to get inside when he stops you, one hand on your arm.

“About that goodnight kiss,” he says, a glint in his eyes that has your stomach doing flips.

You place your hands on his shoulders, gently looping your wrists around his neck. “Mm, what about it?”

His hands find your waist in no time, squeezing ever so slightly. “Can I?”

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmur. “And yes.”

You’re both smiling into it, softening when your lips finally connect. You feel it then, how this is what you’ve been missing. 

Aaron is so gentle as he kisses, so timid in a way that only makes you want him even more. His hands never wander from your waist, except for one moment to cup your jaw, to brush his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you one last time.

He pulls back to watch you, your eyes still closed in bliss. When you finally open them, he’s smiling at you.

“That’s some goodnight kiss,” you tease. “Careful, or you’ll spoil me.”

He shakes his head. “I want to,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “And I will.”

You bring one hand to his face, holding onto him in disbelief. “Goodnight, Aaron.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers, giving you one more kiss for good measure. “Let me know when you get home safe?”

You nod. “You as well?”

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nod slowly. “In the morning.”

Neither of you make any move to leave. In fact, it takes half an hour for you to peel yourselves off of one another, and might’ve taken longer if your stomach hadn’t growled.

Eventually, you part, and Aaron shuts you into your car, waving as you drive off before he walks to his own vehicle. He stares at his reflection in a bit of disbelief, wondering what he did to deserve someone like you.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

You're not a god, technically. A god is one of them big ones, the extraterrestrials, see?

You, like everything else in the world, were born here; your beginning is not before time and outside the world. Not a god. You're a daimon. It's a common misconception.

Still, in the space of that misconception there's honest work.

You're not sure the council upstairs (if it's even a council anymore) pays much attention to most of mortalkind, really, otherwise there wouldn't have to be witches to do work scholars are jealous of, but doesn't someone have to?

Sometimes the ones that do enough of it become angels. Sometimes the ones that do something better than anyone else become... well, just what is Silence, actually? Is that still what he goes by? When he was Death All-Devouring he had a few more teeth, you think.

Anyway: when official channels fatfinger a prayer, you have to know, and it's just sort of the case, ethically speaking, that you're to do something about it. Even if only to keep up the illusion that the world-machine works. That's kind of a duty incumbent on all of you immortals, these days. Just until the big boss ... well, the big boss cannot be said to ever be doing or thinking or going to do or think anything, so you're not sure where that was going.

And that's why you're here at this wedding — because a hundred, two hundred years ago they realised the big kahuna might not be listening, deep down, somewhere, and so now you are the wight of the marriage bed. Some say the angel. They're not sure. You're not sure either; you have perhaps a dot more free will than angels tend to, but you find yourself doing a lot of angelic kinda work.

Is the Immanence here, like She's supposed to be? Doctrinally (you are a daimon, you don't really care about doctrine outside the mechanics of your own existence) She doesn't fuck with mixed marriages, but She also conveniently is present every time two men talk about lofty matters, yes, even if they're talking objectively heinous anti-sense about women and children and beasts. So, you know. It's kind of touch and go here. Is mixed marriage more bad than womanhatred? Very important scholars debate the issue even now. Six thousand years of debate have yielded the answer 'yeah idk probably'. You cannot perceive the Immanence. You wouldn't know.

You do, however, know the future, and in the next thousand years, thankfully, they will perfect the shaping arts and learn to make men into women, and maybe they'll all be women then, what the hell. It's an optimistic thought. The other immortals kind of snicker at you and tell you to go look forward at what they do with chymics, self-made new forms of life, in that future, and what they themselves go mad with pain and grief and loneliness and do, for which reason you kind of don't want to.

You might go and listen in on some of those last debates instead, except, again: wedding.

To your profound disappointment, this wedding expects to make you co-in-laws, sort of, with a small unfriendly god, one of the daimons that really believes in it, waves their essence around. This is... about to get really annoying.

You actually don't even dislike Sowulo. Everything you know about them boils down to the fact that they've been experimenting with themself after their mortal followers degendered them — that's the trouble with the overreliant ones, the essence moulds to the understanding of the souls they shepherd and then you end up in no end of annoying circumstances. This would be why personally you've never investigated what gender you're supposed to be. Less for your people to contradict that way. Maybe you predate gender, how's that for a thought exercise? (You don't; you were born in the middle of the Age of Chitin; they don't have to know you're something smaller and duller wearing an old god's pelt.)

And, well, it's just... they're a little weird? OK. They're a lottle weird. You are pretty sure they are, like, super mega ultra weird. The situation is like this: their people, their little guys, they used to be these peaceful cattle nomads. Then the Aeon of Sails and the Great Industrialisation, and the dire circumstances that led them into the ghettos, and so on — and somewhere in that transition, the travelling spirit of the warmth of the sun that was their constant companion came into conflict with the new State doctrine that the stars are unfeeling miasmas of incandescent plasma. (Is that doctrine? That's how you understand most things. You're not sure of the semantics.)

So now: degendered, deprived of influence, a cold light, not a warm one. Invoked, at best, at afterbirth burials, confirmations, weddings, cremations, premarital haircuttings, housewarmings, slaughters, and for the end of winter when it dies under their hand. They're annoying and dangerous and haggard and raw-voiced as a hungry buzzard because they are starving, because they have lost themself, because they don't remember what they used to be and they don't know what they want to be now.

Sometimes a ship launches from the harbour of this city, and you are there because you have one of your people to look after, and they look out at you from shore, forlorn, jealous, abandoned, so hungry. So hungry. Mourning something they half remember, something they are convinced you have. That's why they incite their sophonts to kill yours, maybe. You wouldn't know. You've never asked. You're busy doing your job, keeping those sophonts safe.

They envy you your vitality. They wish they knew what they were. They think you know what you are, and they want you to get off your inconceivably tall high horse.

You're not on a high horse. You just are, and you try to make sure your sophonts can just be, too. But Sowulo doesn't know that.

Sowulo knows that their people are small and broken and scattered, and that each wedding with any other people weakens them — weakens the people and weakens their god.

Sowulo hates you.

And, like, you don't really play favourites, all mortals are the same to you deep down, but you understand that there is a Teensy Weensy little problem, perhaps, with the favourite son of their most warlike clan's Great Chanter running away from home to elope with a witch-midwife from beyond the Pale. Not because she's yours, but that doesn't make it better. Her own huntedness and fear and old pain doesn't do anything for the situation either. Sowulo doesn't understand yet that suffering is a universal condition of settled life.

Your marriage priest, a jolly little roundish woman in veils against the interference of spirits with her work, pounds her cowhide drum and begins her chant. Sowulo's shakes his solar rattle, completely unaware that his god is seething in the rafters of the fane. Are you going to have to save his life, then, before the sun is up? This is going to be a very long, unnecessarily laborious, and probably also very interesting night.

You are a god whose most devout follower is marrying your rival God’s follower. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem except you both are asked to bless the union, and for that both of you must attend.

[inbabylontheywept]

Kartchner Caverns

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk. And after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts), I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety: No more poor-man's time travel. No more ambien. One less morally ambiguawesome parenting decision from my crazy-ass dad.

I was talking with him when it happened.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we woke up my little brother. 

(Nothing good happens from waking the dreamer. Best case scenario, the dream ends. Worst case, it doesn't.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. Our dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. Dad and I both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said. "Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America," my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody bothers to build up because there’s nothing to be gained from density. The city will never be walkable, because the problem isn’t infrastructure. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse upon the inheritors of Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and psychopomp was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

They were beautiful. I can wax poetic at the keyboard, but in real life, my exclamation of wonder is primarily Hot Damn.

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they? Took a few eons to make 'em but I think it was worth the wait."

I was charmed by the way he talked. I knew it was just a fluke of tenses, but there was something funny about the way he described them - as if he personally oversaw each of the dainty little spires. We went further, and he pointed out more formations as we came across them. 

"Behold!" he said just a few feet further. "Fried eggs!" 

And I had to admit: There were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said further still. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. It didn't look terribly shieldlike, but who knows - maybe he made the shields first and got better as he went along. The eggs were beautiful.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down there it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized snake. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And then all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

Now, I want to bring something up right about now. At this point, you might be tempted to write off the unease that I was feeling as claustrophobia. Which would make sense - caves unsettle a lot of people. But not me. I'm borderline claustrophilic. When I was a child, I didn't feel comfortable reading until I was wedged somewhere. Behind a shelf, or in a cabinet, or even underneath the beanbag my parents had intended for sitting. Those were my happy places. I liked being crammed into tight spaces. 

I did not like that cave. 

The section of serpent-stone narrowed the further we went. The room started off maybe six feet wide, but eventually it narrowed down. First to five, then four, then three. Two. And it didn’t stop at one. 

The old man put me in front at that point. Said that if I got stuck, he could just push me forward. Didn't occur to me until I'd gone another hundred feet forward, sideways, that maybe getting dragged out would be better. But I was strangely reluctant to bring it up. I’d already let myself get cornered. There was nothing to be gained from letting him know my thoughts. 

But the only way to keep them secret was by going forward. So I poured myself through the crack, slick as slip.  

There's a grain to the scales of serpent-stone, both in the shape of the formations and in the texture of the individual pieces. They're metamorphic, but there's enough sediment left to ‘em that they have a grain. They bite when you go one way, and slide when you go the other. It felt like I was ratcheting myself in. Even if I could slip forward more, I didn't think I could go back. Not without wearing myself down into something skinless and screaming. 

Water began to pool up in sections. It was cold enough to avoid the stink that still waters normally carry, but things stranger than algae festered in the waters beneath my feet. The puddles felt thick, almost slimy. A dozen steps later I saw little ropes of the stuff trickling down my feet. 

Eventually, it got so narrow I couldn't turn my head. I could still hear the old man behind me, but only through little things - the occasional sharp inhale, or steps just an eighth of a beat off from my own. But never words. I remember stopping at one point, just to get pushed, just to know he was there. And he refused. All I heard for fifteen minutes was his breathing behind me. 

He'd called my bluff. There was nowhere to go but forward. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don't know why it took so long to get dark down there. I wasn't carrying a flashlight, and if the old man had been carrying one, I'd have seen it bob with his steps. There was a sort of soft glow to everything but that had faded hour by hour. Eventually it didn't matter that I couldn't turn my head sideways - I wouldn't have been able to see the man if he'd been two inches in front of me. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and just when I was about to get stuck for real - stuck in a way where I wouldn't be able to step forward, where I'd have to be pushed (or dragged back along the sharpness of the scales) - I popped out of the serpent stone crevasse like a cork from a bottle. 

Plunk. 

I can't tell you the relief that I felt at that moment. It didn't matter that I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I'd never been claustrophobic in my life, but at that moment, I couldn't stand even the proximity of the crevice. I scrambled forward, stumbling over the rough cave floor, desperate and eager to find the next wall. To get some sense of where I was. 

I never did. Even as I calmed down, even as the relief of being free of that infernal vice sat upon me like a crown, I never found another wall. Anywhere. I walked until fear made me crawl, as low and blind as any worm. I crawled until my pants tore and my knees bled and my spine ached. 

And I found nothing. 

When the vastness of the space truly sank in, when I realized that leaving that first wall had been a mistake, I turned back. But some choices can't be unmade. There were no walls. Not anymore. No matter how far I crawled, how hard I tried, there was no end. There was nothing but perfect darkness, broken stone, and endless snaking trickles of cold cavern water. 

I dipped a finger in one of the rivulets. Just to feel it. Just to ground myself in something. I felt the waters slither past, and I found something like sight in their motion. 

Water always goes down. Whatever else I lacked down here in the stone, in that moment, I knew up and down. And for the first time in hours, I had a choice. A real choice. No instinct or panic or too late realizations: Up or down. 

I went down. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I’d visited a rope factory once. Watched the threads dance and spin and weave into something mighty. I got a blind man’s sense of that from my trickle. I felt it meet more of its kind, braiding into them like thread. I liked pretending it was still my rivulet, but eventually, I had to admit it was lost in the mess. Picking out one thread from a rope would be easy, compared to picking out one trickle from a river. 

Funny how water can drown in itself. 

The first contaminant to the water was iron. I could smell it in the air -  strong as blood. It should have unsettled me, but I’d smelled water like that before. My grandpas well-water stained everything it touched rusty red. His sinks, his showers, his fields. Even his teeth. He was wealthy enough that he could've wiped the stains off decades back, but he told me once that he liked the way it made other people uncomfortable. The way it reminded everyone who saw him smile that by sacrament or soil, they too drank of god. 

The next contaminant was the thick water from before. Apparently, the stagnant pools weren’t as still as I’d thought. Somehow, over strange eons, they too could seep through the stone and make their way into this deep river. It was scentless, but I could feel it catch around my ankles on some steps. It seemed like a memory from a different life. I just didn’t feel like the same person that crawled through the serpent-stone crack. I was just some stranger wearing his shed skin. 

Then at long last came a smell of deep sulphur 🜏. It was an odd contrast with the sharply cold air, and the strangely warm waters. It was the least pleasant of the bunch, but I endured it well. I followed until the tears streaming down my cheeks felt as normal as breathing. Until the rush of the river was replaced by the pounding of waves. 

I’d arrived on a beach. I couldn’t see the ocean in front of me, but I could hear how vast it had to be. There was a terrible stench, worse than the sulphur - the smell of some vast death. Godly carrion. A wound in the world long left to fester. 

I sat there on the beach of that ocean. Afraid to let those dark waters touch me. Thinking and waiting and worrying about what would happen next. 

A voice spoke just twenty feet behind me. I recognized it. I never would’ve recognized it before, but there was a knack to the way this place wore me thin. Like a razor getting sharpened instead of a shirt going ratty. 

“You’re very close,” the old man said, and I remembered him from all those years ago - sitting cross-legged in the moonlight by the bank of the canal. Looking up at me, eyes dark, and calling me over to tell me a secret. 

There's one God in this world, he said then. One God. And it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. 

So this is our hell.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I turned around. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have been able to see him. I shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But I could see the outline of where he was on that shoreline. Not as a  bright thing, but as a darker shade of absence. A little hole in the dark. 

I could have run. But that would’ve required taking my eyes off him, and at that moment I couldn’t bear the thought. He was the only thing to see down there. The only reason I had eyes. But somehow, more important than the joy of seeing was the feeling that as long as I kept my eyes on him, he was trapped. Pinned to this world like a butterfly on cork. 

There was a half second pause. The voice was a memory, but seeing through the gaps was new to me. The thing in front of me wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t even good at pretending. I was oddly embarrassed that I’d ever been fooled by it. What I was looking at was something older than this cave. Something trapped down here so long it could not bear the thought of light. The dream of something dead. The sloughed skin of a snake. 

The first apple eater. 

I could see shades of absence. More than the hole in the dark. I could look at the thing and feel the place where its wings should have been. Its first ones, at least. 

It lunged for me. 

I’d forgotten it could do that. 

It slammed into me like the water from the bottom of a dam. The power was nothing compared to the cold. I couldn’t see a thing, but what I could feel made bile climb up my throat. 

It was melting. Running down itself in little streams, like snow melting in the sun. Like the river I followed all the way down here. A hand ran over my face and I could feel it pouring into me, and in my fury I did the only thing I could think of: I reached up, and I wrapped my hands around its neck, and I clenched so hard that I could feel the tendons in my wrist sawing up through my skin, taut as piano wire. 

It was like squeezing wet clay. It deformed under my touch, stretching longer and thinner and smoother even as the muscular length of his impossibly long body wrapped around me. At some point the fists beating on my chest turned into wings. Stolen wings, to replace the ones that were stolen from it, and there was a scream in the cave it was so awful that it wasn’t mine. 

It was a terrible race. We were killing each other the same way. There was no question about someone dying here in front of the empty throne of god. I just didn’t want it to be me. 

Eventually, it could stretch no more, and my hands could crush more than just nightmare and shadow. The wings beat on me weaker, and weaker, until eventually some cartilage in its great neck snapped under the pressure of my thumbs.

It was like cracking a glow stick. There was a flash of light, brief as thunder, and I could see the waves in front of me. An ocean of rotting meat and bones. The outline of some great, dead serpent, fifty feet tall. And a tower of dead bodies, stretching back to ages that I could not recognize. The only corpses I could recognize were those at the top, with their strange helmets and iconic breastplates. 

Conquistadors. 

When the light went out, the body went with it. Most dreams don’t leave anything behind. Even when they’re made by gods. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don’t know how I left the cave. 

I followed the river up. At some point, it stopped being the river I followed down. The tributaries feeding into it spread out like a fan, and fool that I am, I kept picking left. It shouldn’t have worked. Part of me wonders if I somehow bent the river to my will. Filled in for the dead thing bobbing in the lake, or the echo that I strangled on that starless shore. 

Or maybe I just got lucky. 

I can remember finally breaching the incline and seeing an exit into the desert. Not the one I stepped in through, but good enough. I can remember getting closer and closer, before stepping out into the burning sun. I thought it was finally over.

I thought wrong.  

I can remember looking into the bright blue sky and seeing exactly what my little brother saw on that drive all those years back. 

I don’t know what I killed down in the cave. Some dead thing in the dark, dreaming it was alive. An altar of blood and bone, designed to hold a fragment. 

But the real thing sat there in the sky. Curled up so tight and so smooth, you could mistake it for a ball. Waiting, and watching, and hating. Alive but dreaming death. The mould that stamped out the form of what lay in the cave. 

Quetzalcoatl, I learned later. The feathered serpent. 

I moved the month after that. Went somewhere north, somewhere cold, somewhere that a snake wouldn’t follow. Most days now, I look up, and I just see the sun. A flaming ball of gas. A little, red, star. 

But only most.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙 𓇳

Thanks to @qsatisfaction and @foldingfittedsheets for being my editors on this piece. And thanks to @dr-robert-chase-apologist for providing the prompt.

[unholybacon355]

Toxic Till The End

Park Rosé x Male Reader

Word Count: 4.1 K

Masterlist

AN:To be honest I don't feel like a did a good job here, but things are what they are. So I hope you can enjoy this too because was supposed to be a Valentine´s special and also a way to celebrate Rosé's latest birthday.

It was another day in your opinion, a normal day. Well, maybe not that normal. But with what has been going on in your life, and especially in your relationship with your girlfriend, you aren't sure if you should be celebrating anything. Anyways when you keep repeating to yourself that it is a normal day you still got this stupid heart shaped box of chocolates and a red rose.

“It's just a detail.” You whisper to yourself. And yes, you're right. This detail is the least you can do on this day, a day that is supposed to be happy and cheerful; but instead feels different. 

After a long minute of cavitation you put the key on the lock and open the door to your shared apartment with your girlfriend. You're coming back from a long ass night shift and you're sure your girlfriend is still sleeping since there are some hours left till she has to work, so chocolates gonna have to wait. But instead of silence, what you find inside the apartment is the good smell of eggs and bacon being fried. The sizzle sound of food over the pan is what greets you, a sound that you aren’t used to hearing. 

Not that your girlfriend is disconsiderate, but she isn’t the type to do these details very often. She cooks, yeah, as long as you do since both of you are grown adults. But the times she has prepared a special meal for you during all these years, can be counted with the fingers of a hand; and maybe those are more fingers than what you actually need to count. 

“Babe, you come back early” Your girlfriend says, raising her voice over the sizzling sound. “I can’t let this right now or it will burn.”

“Yeah, they let me come home earlier.” You say approaching the kitchen. “Something big was happening and they wanted the whole day shift there to be an hour early, so I had nothing to do the-.” That last word was cut out of your mouth since you finally saw your girlfriend. 

Rosé was holding the pan with a hand and using the other to move what she was cooking with a big wooden spoon; but that was far from making her look any less spectacular than she was looking. To be fair she always looks fantastic, she is very beautiful, with soft features and a button nose that is the envy of all of her friends. But what caught your attention was that she was wearing makeup, done all natural but still make up. Just red lipstick, some mascara on her eyelashes and a bit of blush on her cheeks. What was more spectacular was the fact that she did her hair that morning. Her golden locks were curled into ringlets that fell till barely touched her shoulders, giving her hair a lot of volume.

Also her pajama was different to what she usually wears. This time was a two piece set, all pink and with hearts here and there. The shorts were small, letting you see her long silky legs in all of their glory. The top was also small, revealing her arms as well as a prominent portion of her chest and her tummy.  

Rosé was just too beautiful standing there in the kitchen, so out of place making breakfast for you, clearly overdressed for the assignment. Even the fact that you could see her buns shyly appearing under the shorts couldn't make you not focus on how damn beautiful your girlfriend was that morning.

“I wanted to give you a surprise since I have to work today.” Rosé smiles shyly looking at you. “You know, since it’s a special day.” Suddenly your chocolates and rose feel very stupid and almost nothing compared with what she’s doing for you.

“Wow! You're amazing.” You hug her from behind and kiss her cheek. “But you haven´t to. You have to work and you still woke up earlier to do your hair and all this.” Even the smell of her hair was fantastic, and now you could feel she put perfume on too. “I just gave you this.” You present to her what you bought for her, happy that that kid had been selling those things on the street. Because you didn’t have the dignity to walk into a store to buy something from your girlfriend, instead you just brought it for a few bucks from a kid on the street that was selling those packs. You aren’t even sure if the rose is real or made out of plastic.

“Aaaaawww!! But this are fantastic.” Rosé reach back to kiss you in the cheek. “ Thank you Babe.” 

After some exchange of kisses and words charged with love, breakfast was ready and you two sat to eat what your girlfriend just cooked. The meal was simple but delicious, something that were really needing to recover all your strength after a busy night. And having breakfast with her made it even better.But the best part came after you finished eating and she told you there was also a especial dessert just for you. You were expecting a cheesecake or something like that, anything far from Rosé sitting in your lap and kissing you. 

“I’m your dessert.” She said with her raspy deep voice charged with lust, while she was rubbing her nose with yours. “You can eat all you want.”Although it wasn't what you were thinking, this dessert was much better. So you just grab her tinny waist and glue your lips to hers, this time with much more desire than when you did it earlier in the kitchen. 

Soon Rosé’s hands are over you, and yours are exploring under the hem of her shirt. Even on this day there was no time for more romantic things, maybe latter but not now, so your finger crawl under the fabrics till you reach her small tiddies. Her nipples get hard under your touch while you both put more hunger into the kiss.

A moan is muted into your mouth when you pinch one of her sensitive buds and rolled it into your fingers. Rosé have the need to sit properly over you, and in some way she do it without needing to pull her body from yours. Now her legs are falling from each side of the chair, and the tip of her feet are barely touching the ground. 

“Don’t leave a mark or they gonna make fun of me at work.” She said while you were kissing and sucking the sweet spot of her neck. Her hands run across your abdomen and your lower back, her touch is a mixture between being gentle and scratching your skin with her long nails. If she leaves marks on you no one is gonna see it.

Since the dessert is being that good you grow hungry and need more, more of her, more of your girlfriend, so you lift her and put her over the tablet. Plates are made a side leaving enough space for her. Your next move is to pull her shirt and leave her torso naked. Rosé small but beautiful breasts make you salivate. Her tiny nipples are so hard right now that you think you could lose an eye if she stabs you with them, but that doesn't stop you from sucking them. Those small hard buds are worth the risk, and the way Rosé moans when your tongue hits one of them is a melody to you. 

She palm your erection over your pants while making a mess with your hair, and you do the same with her crotch. Your fingers run up to her silky leg, crossing for her thighs that are open specially for you, and ended reaching the center of her legs. You can feel your girlfriend’s arousal because her pajama is already sticky, which lets you also know that she isn’t wearing any underwear under the garment. But what was the point of wearing panties If she already knew they were gonna end up being a hindrance for what she planned. The only shame is that her cute pajamas will be stained with all of her juices, and of course you're working to make that happen.

While your mouth keeps the attention over her breast your fingers work extra time over Rosé’s clothed folds, making her whimper and moan over the table. She’s already a mess and you think you can make her come just by keeping doing what you´re doing, but she has different plans. Rosé lifts your shirt and you’re forced to take a step back and raise your arms to help her to undress you, but when the garment is gone and rests in the ground with her shirt you’re determined to come back to work between her legs. So you kill the distance between you two, but when your hand is reaching her thigh Rosé stops you. You don’t know what happens and look for a response, but when your eyes meet hers she’s staring at you with ice in her eyes.

“Babe what-” But you never get to ask the question because she pushes you back and gets off the table.

“Who made those?” Rosé points to some scratches in your chest, and you immediately know you're doomed. “I can’t believe it.” Her voice sounded cracked. “ You're cheating on me, again.”

“Babe, this is not what you think.” You try to reach her but she pushes you back. “I made this at work last night.”

“Do I look like a fool to you? There is no way you made those at work, those are nails marks.” Rosé suppressed a sob. “ Oh my god! You cheated on me with Lisa. That bitch always tries to mark what don´t belong to her.”

“Nooo, that’s not.” You try to deny all but honestly you aren’t doing a good job here. “Believe me when I say I made those marks at work.”

“Stop lying. Unless you cheat me with a man, that is impossible.” She takes a step back to put more distance with you. “ Can believe it. You said you would change.” She tries to suppress another sob and suddenly an idea crosses her mind. “If you wanna prove yourself, get your dick out.”

“What? How that gonna help?” You don’t want to but her stare is severe, she’s stabbing you with her eyes. You wish she would be doing it with her nipples instead. “Ok, fine.” You obey and let your parts fall followed by your boxers.

Rosé immediately falls into her knees in front of you and starts smelling your dick. Your shaft isn't hard because of the small fight but that doesn’t stop her from grabbing it with her fingers and putting it in her mouth. After a few bows of her head and lick your meat your girlfriend is in her feet again, and you don’t understand what is happening.

“That’s definitely Lisa’s smell and taste, is all over your filthy dick. You didn’t even took a shower after fucking that bitch.” She makes a disgusting face knowing that she just sucked Lisa’s pussy juices from your cock.. That’s why you came home earlier, because you where fucking her instead of working.”

“Ok, fine. I was with her last night. But you know what?” You were done pretending. “ I had a lot of fun, and not only fucked her pussy.”

“Idiot. I’m not enough for you anymore? After all I did for you?” Rosé is close to you but only to push your chest trying to vent her anger on you. OH my god! I’m so stupid.” She put a hand over her forehead.” Jennie told me this would happen again and I didn’t listen to her.”

“You didn’t let me touch you for weeks. I was horny and she was there for me. What did you expect me to do?”

“Talk to me, you fucking idiot. That is what a normal person would have done. But you had to run to her arms.And.. And…”

“And what?. Don’t act like you're better than me.” You are getting angry too.” Aren’t you forgetting to tell me why you know so well her pussy taste? Don’t you think I don’t know you cheated on me with her too?”

“How…” Suddenly all the anger disappeared from Rosé’s face. “That was just a few times, months ago, after I caught you with your dick inside of her.”

“But you still did it, and didn’t tell me anything.” Now Rosé is more concerned than angry. “ Wanna know how I know? Lisa has some videos of you eating her out. Yes, you're on your knees eating her holes like the bitch you’re.” You look for your phone and hand it to your girlfriend. “Look, you can tell that isn’t you.”

Rosé’s expression now is fully charged with disgust. In your phone is playing a video of her eating Lisa in an undetermined place, all you can hear are Lisa’s moans and praise to your girlfriend. You don’t need to see the video to know that on more than one occasion Rosé’s face is shown. 

“Ok, yeah, I did it. But that makes us even, you didn’t need to cheat on me again.” Her anger is coming back.

“Yes, I didn't need it. But I was horny and an occasional blowjob wasn’t helping anymore. I thought you were cheating on me.”

“Oh My god! Don't try to push this on me. This is your fault, you idiot just needed to wait just one more night. “ She clearly sees the confusion on your face because you don’t know what she's talking about. “ Wanna know why I wasn’t fucking you? It was because of this.” 

Instead of tell you something you see how Rosé pull her shorts down her legs and kick it away. You don’t what is happening but you see her turn back and, for your surprise, spread her butt. And there you find out what she was trying to show you, because there in middle of her ass crack you could see a gem. This is why I wasn´t fucking you, I was trying training to get your dick in my ass.” Rosé lets go her cheeks and now is looking at you again. “I was jealous because Lisas’s ass is so open that she can take anything. I just wanted to give you the same, so I keep it in secret to not ruin the surprise.”

“But  Babe.” You can´t believe you just ruined everything. ”You didn’t need to do it. I was happy fucking your tight butt, even when you just could take a few inches.”

“But I did it. And now I need to find someone else to enjoy my ass.”

You two look so stupid arguing in the middle of your apartment, totally naked, that this would be hilarious if it wasn't because Rosé is implying she’s breaking with you.

“Come on. How I was supposed to know? This is your fault too.”

“Don’t. I was making something for you and you just ruined it, as always.”

“Well you could help me a little too. Our relationship is fucked up because of you too. This breakfast is the first nice thing you did for me in months, and I’m tired too.” You finally get out of your pants to close the distance with Rosé. “Don’t act like this is all my fault.”

Your girlfriend, maybe still she’s your girlfriend, cross her arms and give you her back. “I’m not talking with you anymore. Please take your belongings and leave the apartment.” But far from doing what she said you take your chance and grab one of her sweet little cheeks. “Get your hands out of me!”

“Don’t act like you don't love me anymore.”  You notice how even with her protest Rosé doesn't do anything to take your hand off of her ass. “You cheated more times than me, so let's call this a draw and see if your little training gave fruits.” Your hand is still in her butt, so you move it to pass one of your fingers over her ass crack.

“Get off.” Rosé’s arms are still crossed but she moves quickly to put her hands on her mouth when you pull the toy in her butt just a little. Even when she tried, that moan was hard to hide. “Maybe we can make a deal.” You palm her ass and give her a little spank. “No more cheating. I need you to make a promise.” 

“Ok, I promise it. No more cheating, I’m not fucking Lisa or anyone; just you. But you have to promise it too.”

She swallows heavily before talking, maybe because your fingers are on the toy again. “Fine. No more cheating, just you and me.” Not even Rosé finished pronouncing those words when you pull the plug half out of her ass, which grants you a loud moan. “Stop playing and just fuck me.” Now the tone of her voice is so different, she’s needy. You’re needy too, more needy for her than ever. Even when you just unloaded your balls inside Lisas’s butt last night, now you need to do the same with your girlfriend.

Not losing time you handed Rosé to the tablet and bent her over. Her sweet little but round ass is shown to you in all of its glory. You can’t not compare Rosé’s small proportion with the fat ass you were smacking last night, obviously Lisa is bigger but there is something so special about the ass you have in front of you. The curves are so perfect, even when it is small you can resist Rosé's butt; it is just so attractive to you. 

“Hurry up, I still have to go to work.” Her words take you out of the trance you were admiring her ass. So you take one of her cheeks and spread it while your other hand is in the toy. With one single long but slow movement you take out the plug from Rosé’s butt. Her anus remains agape for a second before regaining its original form.  For this position you also can see how her lips are glistening again, how a few pearls of her juices are gathering in her folds. “You want me? Then spread that ass for me.” You guide her hands to her cheeks and she obediently spreads them. 

You know that now your girlfriend is more used to taking things up her butt, but you still don´t wanna be that rude so you get on your knees and press your face to her ass. Your tongue landed in her anus and immediately started playing over the wrinkled entrance. You put a lot of saliva there, making her ass slippery and shiny, making it ready to take your meat. With gentle pushes of your tongue Rosé’s anus allows you inside, but just a little, which tells you she was serious with her secret training. 

When Rosé’s ass is all shiny and covered in your saliva you  tease it with your middle finger and then with a gentle push your tip go inside your girlfriend. Never before has been that easy for you to put a finger in her ass, normally that took you a lot more work and preparation. So if she can take a finger so easily, maybe two is not too much too, and you're right because a second finger goes inside. This time you can feel her anus tensing and being stretched around your fingers, plus you can hear a lot more moans from Rosé’s pretty mouth. “Your ass is so open for me and I haven’t put my dick there yet.”

“So hurry up and put your fat cock inside my butt. I don’t have all day.” Rosé shakes her ass as a protest.

“If you are so desperate.” You take your finger from her entrance and put it in your mouth, tasting the delicious flavor of her insides for a brief time. Then you align your cock tip with her anus and press it against her. The intrusion of your shaft inside her butt is accompanied with a loud moan from Rosé. Almost half of your length goes inside your girlfriend without problems, much more than the usual but still not close from what Lisa can take. “Your ass is so loose now. But you know what? Lisa can take more.”

“Oh my god! Don’t mention that bitch now.” Rosé releases her cheeks and instead grabs the table with both hands. “Start moving, I can take all your stinky dick.” As if she were challenging you, your girlfriend moves her ass back to put a bit more of your cock inside of her. “Just fuck me.”

“Maybe next time we can use Lisa’s pussy juices ass lube for your ass.” With that provocation being said your hands find Rosé’s waist and without warning you take a few inches of your dick out of her ass, just to immediately began fucking her. With each thrust your cock enters a little further into Rosé's tight anus.

Rosé was about to protest but you clearly can see she's struggling with having her ass being fucked, so all she manages to do is moan and breath heavily. You feel how her wrinkled entrance stretches a little more as more of your penis enters her ass, still with all that training her tight anus is fighting to let you in. Rosé is a mess and even when you can't see you know her folds are all wet and shiny with her own slick. “Are you sure you can take me? You're still not stretched enough.” That was just a provocation to see how she reacts.

“Oh my god! I can!” Rosé says between moans. “Just go easy on me.”

“Weren't you telling me to hurry up?” With a long thrust you go the deeper you have ever been inside Rosé’s butt, just letting a few inches out. She’s moaning like crazy, holding the table so tight that her knuckles are turning white. You can see how a shiver runs through her spine but instead of complaining your girlfriend asks for more, and you push your cock further inside her ass.

When your pelvis finally reach her cheeks you can’t help but compare her little butt with the big and round ass you where fucking a fee hours ago. In fact Lisa’s is bigger, rounded, and softer than Rosé’s, but finally being able to fuck your girlfriend ass means something to you. She did this to you and you are paying her with the best anal sex of her life.  

You took Rosé’s leg and put it over the table, so now she’s more spread out for you. The new angle allows you to fuck her harder, with your pelvis hitting her butt in every thrust and making a clap sound. You wish she would be telling you hoe good are you fucking her tight ass, but all Rosé can do is moan and whimper while your meat goes as deep as you can inside her anus. 

She must be tired of supporting her weight in one leg, but you are not gonna let her go until you’re finished. After all she was the one who asked for you to fuck her ass, and you don’t want to waste all the prep she did. But her ass is still tight, not loose like Lisa, and that’s giving you a lot of pleasure.

Your pace is fast and you fuck Rosé’s little asshole without stop until you feel your balls are arching, demanding to let it go all of your cum, and you can’t hold it anymore. With your dick throbbing inside Rosé’s ass you unload your balls inside of her. The way she’s shaking tells you that probably she’s having her climax too, but you don’t care about that now. All you can think is to shoot until the last drop of your cum in your girlfriend rectum. 

When your balls are finally empty you slowly take your dick from Rosé’s butt, and when your tip gets off her she releases a loud moan in some way protesting because of the emptiness that her ass is feeling.

 Now you're so tired and your legs can hold you anymore, so you let yourself fall into the same chair you were sitting while eating breakfast, practically panting for all the effort you put into fucking your girlfriend asshole. Rosé for her part is still in the same position, holding the table and with a leg up; also panting. From where you are you can see how her anus is still closing, and how your cum is dripping from her insides coming all the way down through her pussy and legs. 

[laambfuzz]

—- cat and mouse. ft schlatt. ᝰ

summary: after schlatt's audio, you had to make it known you had discovered it. all goes well and you think you finally have the upper hand, until you log back onto soundgasm to see a surprise waiting for you.

— tags: smut, lunch club!schlatt, mutual masturbation.. technically?, schlatt does porn (duh), dirty talk, degradation and light praise, open ending.. again

authors note: happy valentines my loves!! wanted to treat you with a longer post and hoped to get this out for the 14th for you all (it's still the 14th for me, so!) whether you celebrated it with someone or not, you've got some pornstar!schlatt to help you with the day. once again, credit to @fanficfox who started this lovely idea.♡

schlatt had finally came back to streaming, after a few days off

and you were going to take tonight as your chance to get him back in this game of cat and mouse you had been playing

you lurked in chat for a while, letting the stream run by as normal. you wanted to wait a little, before inevitably pouncing your prey

and so when he had mentioned a bathroom break, you decided it was your time to strike

you got your donation amount and message ready for him returning, your index finger hovering over your mouse. you wanted to get the donation in as soon as possible, before others started to do the same

you heard the clambering of schlatt almost falling into his room, drawing your attention back to the screen as he sat back on his chair, announcing his return

your finger hit the donation button instantly, and now you just had to wait for the payment to confirm, and for tts to pick up your message

it took a minute, but finally the tts bot spoke up and announced your message

"i can't believe i was soaked a few nights ago, and it was all your fault. tsk tsk, big guy."

schlatts face contorts into one of shock, face turning to his other monitor as he tried to catch who sent the donation

as soon as he saw your name he felt a shiver go through his spine

but he changed his facial expression to one of disgust, shaking his head and murmuring a "what the fuck?" to act like it was just a random thirst comment

but he knew it was more than that, and so did you

chat was on schlatt's side of course, calling out the weirdness of the donation and noticing how uncomfy schlatt had gotten

then another donation pinged through, schlatt's eyes darting to the screen to see if it was from you

and it was

"you made a bet that it was going to rain last stream, and it did."

chat is suddenly spamming OMEGALUL's and KEKW's, laughing at the misconception but still shocked at how the last donation was worded

schlatt swallowed thickly, letting out a heavy sigh as he felt relief. relief from what? he didn't know, but somehow chat not caring made him feel hidden, still

"what, were you thinking of something else? fucking pervs."

the last donation comes through, and chat just continues to laugh. they assume it's at them, and that's what you wanted

but once again, you and schlatt knew it was more than that

schlatt sent somewhat of a glare to the camera, and you felt his dark eyes peering right through you

but you felt a thrill of excitement at the same time, happy to have one-upped him after a few nights ago

however, you really weren't expecting him to get you back so soon

you got into bed later that night and had your phone already loaded onto schlatt's soundgasm page, and that's when you seen it

a new video had been uploaded tonight— desperate little thing

a heat suddenly started to pool in your belly as you read the title, and you clicked on it instantly

your free hand trailed under the covers, nudging your underwear to the side as your middle and index fingers grazed your clit

you press the start button and you're instantly greeted with a dark, low chuckle

"bet you thought you were real clever, huh sweetheart? thought you could try tease me like that and get away with it?"

a whine leaves your throat at his voice, the fact it's condescending and so much lower than you usually hear on stream

you hear a scoff, a creak of the chair before his breath is suddenly hitting the mic

he breathes deeply into the mic for a few moments, his breath hitching occasionally so you can only imagine he's once again stroking himself on the other end

"pathetic fuckin' donation messages, is what they were," he starts, inhaling through his nose before heavily exhaling. "could tell how needy you were. wanted me to see so bad you had to give me your fuckin' cash?"

your fingers toyed with your clit before you rubbed slow circles, moaning softly at his low voice, and how he was insulting you

"bet you're already touching yourself, huh? like a filthy fuckin' slut, all because im talkin' down on you," he chuckles dryly, before groaning lowly. "just pathetic. can't keep your hands off yourself when you see me. so- fuck.. so desperate."

and he was right. you were touching yourself, getting even wetter as he spoke down on you, as if you were nothing

if his words were so wrong and mean, why was it making you feel so good?

a sweet moan drops from his lips, and you can hear the wet sounds as he jerks himself off. "but don't you worry, sweetheart. i like my sluts desperate."

and something about that line drove you wild. you felt your face grow hot at the embarrassing whine you let out as he said it, but it's not as if he was here to hear it anyways

your fingers sped up, stroking the circles faster against your clit as you bucked your hips up into your fingers

anything for the extra friction

the audio continued with schlatt talking you through touching yourself, talking about how he's stroking himself and all the lovely groans, pants and grunts that comes with it

suddenly he stops all movement though, and nothing can be heard

"should i finish, hmm? should i let you hear me cum? beg for me slut, c'mon."

and it's so fucking stupid, and you shouldn't beg for an audio file

and yet..

your fingers are slipping downwards, allowing your thumb to take over the role for rubbing your clit, as the other two fingers now slide inside you

"fuck! please— please schlatt, let me— let me hear it. need to hear you— please."

the words fall from your lips without command, pouring right from your heart as you ache to hear him in return, needing to hear as he hits his climax

you hear a long, slow grunt from the audio causing you to gasp and perk up, fingers continuing their work

"i know you're a good slut f'me, letting everyone know how much you need me. and you love it, don't you? love me putting you in your place, over a fuckin' audio file? pathetic."

schlatt lets out a whine as he pants, a shuddering moan escaping him and you can tell he's cumming, judging by the higher moans and faster movements

"come on, fuckin' listen to me. you better cum now sweetheart, i'm telling you."

and as if his words had some control over you, suddenly your whole body was shaking as the orgasm overtook it, and your slick began to soak your fingers

you worked yourself through the orgasm, slowly but surely working down the pace of your fingers and thumb before you slumped into the bed, chest heaving as you closed your eyes, revelling in schlatt's own heavy breathing

"next time— next time you come to play, remember who owns you sweetheart. i'll see you next time, because i'm hoping you'll come back for more," he starts, before he cuts himself off with a chuckle

"who am i kiddin'? of course you'll come crawling back to me, you always do."

[jo-harrington]

Antiquing v. Thrifting (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: You have a little booth at the local antique market and the owner of the neighboring booth tends to get on your nerves.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Slight enemies to lovers, meet cute, misunderstandings, fluff, banter

Note: This is a late birthday gift to one of my fandom loves who has become an amazing friend IRL too. @bettyfrommars. Betty thank you for being one of my weirdo soulmates, loving old gameshows, wishing we could live in a mid century modern house with all of the original fun appliances. You are one of my favorite people and since I can't send you my bowling ball (one day) I've written this for you. Love you.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

--

There was not much to drive you to want to murder someone. In fact, you would say that you were probably one of the most easygoing people you knew. And you knew plenty of people.

But the person at the receiving end of your ire, and the target of your bloodlust, was one of the most inconsiderate assholes you knew.

Actually, you didn’t even know who it was.

You’d been one of the vendors at The Little Traveler's Antique Market for years. You had a booth along the back wall, acquired when you realized your love of vintage Pyrex was getting a little too overzealous for your shoebox-cum-condo. Besides, the thrill of the hunt was the real thing that you enjoyed: estate sales and rummage sales and thrift stores were filled with treasures just waiting for you to find.

So a few shelves of Gooseberry and Butterprint went up, and eventually it turned into a haven for all sorts of vintage pieces. It was a shrine to your whims, rather than any real desire to find monetary value. Of course, people seemed to flock to it, so the cash you made from it was nice..but that was neither here nor there.

It was something you were good at, and something you loved. You'd met some very interesting people--and some of your closest friends--because of it. Heard the best stories.

Unfortunately, you'd also met some of the most insufferable people because of it too. Or rather, in this case, one insufferable person you pointedly had not met.

It had started when a bunch of Royal Doulton character mugs showed up in your space. And they weren't terrible, but they just weren't yours. Your hand-picked selection of Hazel Atlas glasses had been carelessly shoved to the side on a vintage mahogany sideboard you'd painstakingly hauled in, and in their place were Paddy and Toby and George Fucking Washington, all staring goofily up at you.

Ok, so maybe the Anne Boleyn one wasn't bad.

It was the principle of it. There were unspoken rules in an Antique Market. You just didn't encroach on someone else's space.

You painted the kindest smile you could manage--which, in all honesty, probably looked more like you were baring your teeth--and headed up to the front to confront the manager of the market.

"Margie," you began with a saccharine tone. You set the Anne Boelyn mug down on the counter. "May I kindly ask who Seller 86 is?"

"Oh, that's our new guy," she laughed, oblivious. "Ed. Great guy. He's got some fun stuff."

"Yeah, real fun."

"We did a little shuffle over the weekend," she continued, diving into one of her rambling midwest-isms. "Jim wanted to downsize, which opened a bigger space for Michelle to move into. One thing led to another, and I put Ed in Chelle's old space, next to yours. Hope you don't mind."

What could you say except a cordial of course not? Even as you were left to grumble and mope back to your booth to move all of the Royal Doulton back to Ed's new space. You set them out on a folding table he had in the corner, very nice and neat, which was your standard.

You might have also left a little, tiny, friendly, scathing note.

No big deal.

And you wouldn't lie, you snooped a little.

Come on, everyone else would, too. It was just...shopping. Not snooping.

You couldn't judge the wild array of things he had for sale; much like you, it seemed that everything in Ed's booth was suited to his tastes, because there was just a vibe of "who in their right mind would put some of this shit together." Little taxidermy animals playing poker, postcards from the most random places, vintage beer and coffee cans that, though empty, looked as new as the day they were bought. Garfield and Snoopy memorabilia. And mugs...so many mugs, as far as the eye could see.

It was charming, you could admit that, as long as it all stayed on his side of the vaguely-defined boundary between your booths.

Unfortunately, it did not.

It was never anything major but it was enough to annoy you. Books left out on a table, vinyl records in a crate in a corner, gaudy biker costume jewelry thrown in one of your mixing bowls. Each time you went to restock your booth, you'd have to find whatever treasures he left behind and return them, along with another note.

It was like finding the secret little corner where your cat pissed because they were mad at you. Admittedly, this might've been worse because you were proud. So very proud of your booth. It was a snapshot of you, after all. But that was sullied by little pieces of Ed, a guy you didn't even know, who seemed to enjoy pissing strangers off.

Every week, he metaphorically photobombed your snapshot at the last second and your perfect polaroid had bunny ears.

Or a crude gesture.

Or sometimes even his whole, bare ass.

And you were simply not vindictive enough to do anything about it.

It just wasn't worth the trouble to actually return the favor to him, or better yet, get him kicked from the market altogether. What if his little booth was his livelihood? What if this was how he made ends meet? Your pride wasn't worth ruining something for someone else.

Yes. You were a pushover.

You, surprisingly, got a reprieve for a few weeks.

Each time you'd gone to restock your booth with fun new treasures, there were no hidden trinkets waiting for you. Actually, Ed's booth didn't even look like it had been restocked or touched at all. There were holes in his displays where his wares had been purchased but not replenished. Was he on vacation? Maybe he was under the weather.

You took it upon yourself to spend a few minutes shuffling his mugs like a good neighbor would.

It was a disappointment relief.

Why wouldn't it be a relief? It wasn't like you'd started looking forward to what and where you'd find Ed's little surprises. It wasn't the thrill you'd get when the adrenaline spiked with your anger.

No, not at all.

"What's got you so pouty?" Margie asked as you trudged through the doors about three weeks after Ed's initial disappearance. "Did Dunkin get your coffee wrong again? That's how I know my morning is gonna be shitty."

"Must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed," you gave a weak excuse and headed towards your booth.

You were juggling an armful of tote bags and your coat, so you didn't notice the stranger standing in your space as you approached, until they turned around and spotted you.

"Oh, hey, lemme help you with that," came the rasp of a friendly voice as you rounded the corner. You looked up, surprised, as a set of hands hoisted the heaviest of your tote bags from your grasp.

He was like a relic, frozen in time. In a good way, though, like a well-kept polaroid from the 80s. Faded band tee, bootcut blue jeans, leather jacket that looked butter-soft from eons of wear. His hair was on the longer side and tied back; salt-and-pepper streaks proudly confirmed his personal antique status, along with the crows feet surrounding his deep, warm brown eyes.

He was a gentleman...and he was cute.

You felt like an idiot as your eyes slid down to his left hand on instinct. But there was no ring, so that self-loathing feeling disappeared. Well, no wedding ring, actually. He had a gunmetal band on his pointer finger, and a silver signet ring on his pinky.

Time returned to its appropriate speed as he hauled the tote onto your folding table just a few feet away.

"Jesus, what've you got in here? Bricks?" he laughed. "Are you trying to put Home Depot out of business?"

"Uh..." You floundered for words. "P-pewter tea pots. One of my regulars is getting married. Asked me to keep an eye out for them for her centerpieces."

"Never seen that at a wedding before."

"How many weddings have you been to?" You questioned.

"Well, my buddy Gareth alone has gotten married 3 times." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against your sideboard. "So I think I've got a pretty good chance that I've seen it all.

"Is there anything I can help you find today?" you asked, laying your best customer service voice on thickly. You busied yourself with unpacking your bags so you wouldn't have to look at the charming, crooked smile that settled on his mouth. "Was there anything that caught your eye before my hopeless self stumbled over here?"

"Ah," he pushed off the sideboard and tilted his head up so he could scratch along the length of his neck. "I, uh, was looking at your cookie jars, actually."

"Oh yeah?" You looked up at that and glanced over to the hutch in the corner that held an array of Pillsbury doughboys in various, charming poses. "Can I tell you a secret? I used to hate watching commercials with Poppin' Fresh. That claymation was frightening. I think he's pretty cute now, though."

You abandoned your unpacking and approached the hutch to try and figure which cookie jar he'd been intrigued by. You picked up a jar that had its lid askew and were about to ask if he wanted you to bring it up to the counter for him, when you lifted the lid and looked inside.

And found a rubber-banded stack of Metallica cassettes carefully nestled inside.

You felt your face get hot as you stared at the track listing and colorful cover art of Ride the Lightning. Coincidentally the same album that was on this newcomer's t-shirt.

"So," you huffed and slammed the lid on the cookie jar, careless of any damage it might cause. "You're Ed, huh?"

He chuckled behind you, "Eddie, actually. I prefer to go by Eddie. But yeah, that's me." You pivoted on your heel and glared at him; he faltered under your burning gaze. "Nice to, uh, meet you. Neighbor."

And with that, you let him have it.

You might've blacked out at some point during the absolute barrage of a verbal dressing down you gave him. How dare he not respect the etiquette of the market and stay within the confines of his allotted space, how dare he waste your time week after week as simply minded your own business and sold your trinkets, and how dare he ignore every single note that you left behind.

The fucker had the audacity to look amused with every word that fell from your lips.

In the end, you stood there, huffing and puffing as you caught your breath and felt several months of anger finally extinguish.

"You done there, killer?" Eddie asked with a smirk. "You feel better?"

"Yeah," you shouted one last time, then lowered your voice. "Yes I do."

"Alright, good." He nodded. "Gotta get it out sometimes, otherwise you might get an ulcer. Or develop alcoholism."

"Might be close to both, to be honest," you muttered.

"Shit, then I'm extra, extra sorry that I put you through all of that, sweetheart." He laid a hand over his heart. "This is my first rodeo selling in a place like this, I didn't realize that everyone was so...territorial."

"Yeah, well. Most of the time I'm not." Lies. You were a liar. "I think the thing that pissed me off more is that I kept leaving notes for you and you kept ignoring them and messing with my shit."

Eddie looked bashful all of a sudden. "Oh shit. See I thought you were just flirting with me."

Talk about a record-scratch moment; what...what had he just said?

"Flirting?" you asked.

"I mean, yeah, not to sound cocky either because I was definitely flirting right back at you. What do they call it in the movies? A...meet cute moment? I thought it was fun. You leave me a sarcastic, threatening note, and I leave you a little treasure hunt to solve. Like a...fucked up version of You've Got Mail."

"That's nothing like You've Got Mail," you pointed out.

There was a beat.

"I think this is a really good time to mention that I fell asleep halfway through You've Got Mail," he explained with a laugh. "Regardless, I read things wrong. That's on me. But I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He held his hand out to you and his brows shifted upwards and behind his dated bangs.

You worried at your bottom lip for a moment and tried to claw at the vestiges of your anger for a second, but this guy...he looked like such a kicked puppy...and you suppose that it was a cute way to flirt with someone you'd never met.

God, you really needed to work on that pushover thing.

"It's alright," you told him as you slid your hand into his and accepted his apology. "As long as you don't do it again."

"Cross my heart," he nodded enthusiastically.

You introduced yourself, formally, and offered your help in the future if he needed it. He introduced himself and told you that he would appreciate any pointers that you had to give.

"I'm pretty new to this whole...thrift thing," he shrugged. "I've had a bunch of this stuff in storage for a while. I used to move around a lot, you accumulate a lot of junk. And then my uncle...some of this stuff is his. Was his. He passed away last year. Finally decided I couldn't keep hoarding it all anymore. Turns out, I had a lot more shit than I thought I did."

"Story of my life," you laughed and offered your condolences. "It's hard, deciding what to keep and what to get rid of."

"Tell me about it."

"But, I do have one main lesson for you," you offered.

"Oh yeah?" he smirked. "Already? Just when I thought I couldn't fuck it up any more."

"It's an Antique Market," you told him. "Not a Thrift Store."

"There's a difference?" Eddie asked sarcastically, although a blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Guess the learning curve is much steeper than I thought."

"It's alright. You'll get it sooner or later." You smiled at him, trying to be as friendly and supportive as you could.

He stared at you for maybe a few seconds too long, then shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked forwards on his heels.

"Maybe you could explain it to me, in-depth?" he questioned. "Antiquing, thrifting, whatever."

"Of course," you agreed, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

"Over lunch?" He asked with a nervous smile. "There's a great diner up the road. And I figure I owe you one for all the anguish I put you through anyway."

You stared at him in shock for a second, wondering how to respond. First there was the comment about the flirting...and now this. What if he was a creep? But he didn't seem like as much of a jackass as you thought he was...and he was cute.

Oh, what the hell.

"You know what? Why not? I'm a girl who loves a free patty melt," you winked at him bravely. "It's a date!"

[littleglutton]

Zayne's EN VA has me in a fucking CHOKEHOLD over this entire event and the Immediate Disorder card altered my entire brain chemistry.

Do you all understand how fucking wild it is to hear our dear, big snowman go from his calm, slightly montone cadence to nuanced, hanging-by-a-fucking-thread feral!?

I'm already this man's biggest fan. He is already fulfilling every voice kink I have on a normal day. But holy hell, this event might have just placed him in god-tier for me. And before people come for me, I'm not saying it worked because "oh, he made his voice lower" blah-blah-blah. NO. It wasn't that his voice was lower or more "sexy."

It was the desperation.

It was the fact that it was still Zayne's voice and soft cadence but heightened to a frenzy with each little breath and delicious whimper showing how hard he was trying to hold on. It was Zayne with all of his icy control shattered. Even MC knew that this man would not let go until he had no other option. Infold is always precise with their animations and storytelling. THAT SMUG SMIRK HE GIVES US WHILE BEING INJECTED WITH FRENZY ENHANCER WAS THERE ON PURPOSE.

I don't think the lines were out of character at all, either. Because if you're a Zayne girlie, you know how much of an absolute menace he is while flirting - even if he goes about it in a subtle way. He's also a naturally authoritative person (soft!Dom 100%), so of course he's going to be more demanding, more confident, and even more teasing when all control is gone. Even his telltale little smirk, as rare as a cryptid, morphed into something absolutely devious and knowing.

"You want me to submit? Let me take what I desire first."

I can write an entire essay on this man, so let me pause here...

In my unhinged haze, I made "audio only" kindled so y'all can listen to this like a Secret Times ASMR and suffer right along with me!

I tried to get as many different responses as possible, but there are some repeat phrases during the interactive parts.

Best Enjoyed with Headphones!

Good End - Full Kindled

Bad End starts at the second interactive section. I managed to get quite a few different reactions!

Honorable Mentions: Warden Zaynie YELLING

🫠🫠🫠🫠

I hope you enjoyed these, and I hope this shows some love to Zayne's English VA! All of the VAs were PHENOMENAL (per usual), but this post is for Zaynie because I didn't expect such a drastic change from his usual, and it was flawless.

What were some of your favorite lines from this event? 😉

🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙

[kneebie]

there's a book i like that's called "When Prophecy Fails: A Social and Psychological Study of a Modern Cult That Predicted the End of the World." It's an actual study, with follow ups on a cult in Michigan, I think it was? It's hella dry, but it does a good job explaining the history of doomsday cults before diving into the modern ones

One of the first anecdotes of the story is the anabaptists, some four to five hundred years ago. When the bible was first translated, Martin Luther said, "hey btw your personal interpretation? That's also a correct interpretation, because it is a divine script," or something along those lines, and people went NUTS.

One particular experience is recollected in which a dude strolls into town after the second failure of the world to end, and a random villager calls out, "HEY, JOHANNES! WHERE IS YOUR WIFE? WAS SHE RAPTURED WITHOUT YOU?" which really goes to show Twitter has existed in us throughout all of the ages, even without the tech

And ALSO goes to show that the thing that kept those doomsday cults going was that, at the end of the day? People weren't there to hash it out. People were there to say fuck off with your heretical views, etc. And so a large amount of outreach was completely neglected because, like, why would you? They're silly. They're stupid. How could they even believe such a thing?

Except, and here's the thing, and it's all over this website: we are not immune to cults. People get caught up in echo chambers all the time, and it's nice to finally have that sense of belonging. You go out of the group, and what do you find? Oh man, people are HELLA mean outside your own ingroup.

This is basically what grifters and cults have in common. Some cults can be relatively benign. Grifters? Much, MUCH more rarely. And so, consciously or not, Trump's counting on the fact that when his tariffs raise the price of, say, eggs, we are all going to yell "HEY JOHANNES WHERE IS YOUR WIFE," all over again. And so people who are seeing signs of shit being bad will go OH, NOT SAFE IN THE OUTGROUP, GONNA GO BACK TO THE INGROUP, and reinforce their worldviews from inside their own heads, rather than with external observations. Cause the external observations are generally brought on by dicks and jackasses more interested in saying "I WAS RIGHT" than "hey man yeah, you're right, the price of eggs has gone up for those reasons and it does kind of suck."

Am I saying that every single Trump supporter needs to be courted with lovely words and woo-ed back to share the same reality? No. Trump's actively courted white nationalists and armed militia members, as well as the people sympathetic to those causes.

Which is to say, there's a spectrum of Trump supporter. There's the ethnonationalists. And there's the people who kinda just don't give a shit, and haven't, and he said some words in some soundbites that sounded like it'd help with everyday problems they're facing. That's what a demagogue does. Just says shit and some of it sticks.

So instead of being like "JESUS CHRIST YOU RACIST," try and open a dialogue first. Figure out if they're the sort of person who hasn't given it much thought, or was tricked because they trusted the wrong source, or if they're part of the Proud Boys. Doesn't usually take long to figure that out.

And even then, when you're about to go attacking that white nationalist? The Republican party is the party of grievances. That's why it's one hundo percent culture war one hundo percent of the time. Just give a thought to how far you're personally going to fuel that grievance, since dogpiling one Republican can then reinforce HUNDREDS TO THOUSANDS of other Republicans, with the way Shapiro and other talking heads work.

I'm not saying don't! It's now more critical than ever to express dissent, and to show that not everyone agrees with the fascist in charge atm. Just know how they work, and how they're going to use your own good intentions, and make your own calculations on whether it's worth it to be a dick to someone online

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[itstheghostofmypast]

L♡VE- (Hyung Line)

Separate member/non-idol Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: The moment he realised he loved you.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6.7K

Est.Read Time: 33 min

Networks: @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Maknae Line: Here

Song Rec: Fallin'- Bang Yedam

A/N: A little Valentine update before Yuyu's IOMT chapter- blame @edenesth for introducing me to this song. Also, would be thanking my queen @edenesth for helping me out with these- especially Song Mingi's <3 - MY LAPTOP DIED ON ME- i-i- ill try to post the second part today too

Corporate Coffee Chaos

Personal Song Rec〜☆ Fallin' Connie Francis

Hongjoong never believed he would fall in love, let alone fall in love with someone at work. True, the man had a handful of ‘situationships’, most- or well all failed to pass to the second stage of ‘love’- he’d gone as far as kissing a few of those few blessed ones before he’d end up neglecting or ignoring them, paying attention to his first love- work. Whether he would like to admit it or not, it was a fact that he could not deny, most of his lovers had left him because he’d been so busy with work, it wasn’t his fault though, well not all of it. He had been completely honest about his ‘unhealthy obsession with work’, and although at one point he would blame himself for his failed relationships and his friends would often tease him about him eventually marrying his ‘desktop’ at the end, he had realised the moment he had met you, that it was not him who was at fault, but his heart, his heart that had closed off to almost everyone he had met, until of course when you had waltzed into the picture, or in specific, his cubicle.

He had felt his heart almost leap out of him, squeezing through his throat, ready to jump out of him and onto your palm, your very much expectant palm, only you had not been expecting his battered, shrivelled heart, instead, you had stormed into his cubicle at 8 A.M, demanding he hand you the reports that his work bestie slash coworker, Song Mingi had decided to butcher, which as a result had affected your job- the hell could he do? Oh, yeah, he was the Unit head, that meant Mingi’s clownery was something he’d have to cover up, though maybe he should thank Mingi for messing up this time, because for the entirety of the time you had been ‘explaining how he was as incompetent, lenient and overly considerate boss with eyebags that made him look like he was 50 - mind you that was a total lie-’ he had been staring at you like a lovesick puppy, trying to form the smoothest pickup line known to man, 

“Let’s discuss this over coffee?”

And discuss, you did, over a cup of coffee that had him falling to his knees for you, especially when he realised you liked your cup of brew as bitter and strong as him. One thing had led to the other and you found yourself often at coffee with Mr.Kim, the unit leader of the IT department, and eventually, perhaps a month or so later, Mr.Kim had managed to find something or someone, he may prefer over work. Well, to some extent, it didn’t take him long to figure out that you were as much of a workaholic as he was, and to an unimaginable extent he had loved that about you- another thing he had loved about you. 

So your routine was set, every morning he’d pick you up from your place, all neat and clean, with a crisp white dress shirt, his scratch-less glasses and a blinding smile, and between you two, in the cupholders of his car sat your coffees, ones he’d have Jongho, his buddy and favourite barista, brew all warm and nice early in the morning, to perfection. Call him an idiot, but it was something he admired about you- another thing he admired about you, how you’d thank him every day for something that was a routine, perhaps even his job at this point, he was after all your boyfriend, your boyfriend who had begun to be so obsessed with you that he’d need you to be around him most of the time, even at work. Though he would not call this the L-word, no he was not going to drop the L-bomb anytime soon and he had discussed it with another one of his close friends, Wooyoung, who had told him, “Hyung, you need to wait for the right moment to prove herself, trust me, I like my girl a lot, but I ain’t no simp, she gotta prove to me that she’s a real one.”

Though with your one year of being together, it was safe to say that you two were past your honeymoon phase, or were you? He wasn’t sure, he was no expert on love, he just knew that you were the first person who had grabbed his face and kissed him without letting him think of a stupid insecurity he could use to back out, and once you pulled back, your hands still gently cupping his cheek you had whispered to him, in the silence of the misty, street, under the streetlamp that had watched you two, “You need to stop overthinking Kim Hongjoong.”

For once he had listened, because soon he had felt himself let go around you, slowly showing you that he too, was human, in fact, too human sometimes- enough to still smile at her and say things like, “I really like you,” or “I hope you know you mean a lot to me.” For some ungodly reason you had never said anything to ruin the mood, you’d smile at him and recite the words back to him, wrapped in a velvet cloak of something he could still not decipher, but the way your eyes would twinkle, cheeks shine with a subtle pink hue and hands slightly tremor in his, he knew your words were sincere. Though a part of him wondered what would happen after this phase would come to an end, disillusionment or-

“Kim Hongjoong!” the man sat up straight, groaning at the pain in his lower back before turning his swivel chair and meeting your frowning face, knowing what was going to come next.

“I can not believe you,” placing the two cups of labelled coffees on his desk you frowned at him, hands on your hips as you glanced at him then the lumbar support cushion you had gotten him for his birthday and his stupid back pain. Shaking your head in defeat you moved to grab it and stuff it between his back and the backrest of his chair, before narrating, “I will be back after a little group meeting, and then, we can go out for a proper breakfast, I know for sure you showed up without breakfast.”

With a salute he watched you leave, before grabbing his coffee, odd, they were labelled, did you perhaps get them from another shop? Oh well, work Hongjoong, work, gotta make that money make purse and get your lady a nice fur coat.

Twenty minutes in he sat back, before stretching his arms above his head and yawning, huffing as he reached for his cup, only to realise it was empty, with a huff he tossed the paper cup in the bin before looking around aimlessly, where were you? For a ‘short little meeting’, huh? Bloody liar, you were worse than him, he knew how’d you get when the marketing plans were delayed, or the payments for the prints didn't make it through- anything, anything wrong to the slightest and the perfectionist in you would go ballistic- no, you’d go bat-shit crazy, pfft, he was not as bad as you.

Chuckling to himself at the thought of your hair already clipped up in a bun, sleeves rolled up, voice raised higher than your sleeves, he decided to start the next task, he could finish it halfway before you’d arrive, so much for breakfast. Leaning- hunching- back into position his fingers began to dance on the keys at an impressive speed, and amidst this display of skill he had reached to grab your lukewarm coffee, glad that you enjoy the same acidity of coffee that he did before he took a big boy swig only to freeze as his brain malfunctioned, for what slipped down his throat was not a warm, crisp taste of roasted coffee, but something that had him physically cringe, recoiling at the taste as he spat in the bin and glared at the cup, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand. Did they get your order wrong? What on earth was this incredibly sweet, milky and creamy- was this tea?!

“Sorry I’m late-” you froze at the sight of your boyfriend holding a paper cup in his hand, your paper cup. Though in return his head had whipped up to glare at you, with eyes ready to kill, a menacing glint in his usual shiny orbs, as he spat at you, “What is this blasphemous treason, woman?”

“I- I can explain- did I label them wrong? Did I mix them up-” you paused when you realised that there was only one cup left, yours, damn it, you should’ve taken this with you- oh well, guess the truth was going to come out sooner or later, you just hoped it did not change his view of you. Gently, you reached forward and took the cup from him, your fingers grazing his as you gave him a shy smile and set the cup down before holding your hands in his as you decided to confess your deepest, darkest secret, “I hate bitter coffee.”

“What.”

With a small pout you nodded, giving his hands a squeeze as you continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…it’s just…it’s just that it's the first thing you ever bought me and…and you got me the same coffee every morning and I didn’t want to ruin it, it was such a sweet gesture anyone has ever done for me, out of the blue, just completely caught me off guard and you looked so…proud, so I never said anything.” You were now sitting at the edge of the desk as you continued to explain yourself, “I know it’s kind of stupid but, it really meant a lot to me, and I didn’t want to ruin it between us, I hope you can forgive me Joong, I really do like you, it’s just that I hate, no, I loath bitter things, dark chocolate, roasted coffee, lemon tarts, citrus cakes, even orange juice- like why on earth would I want to recharge myself with gross tasting things when a teaspoon of sugary goodness can do much better-”

“I love you.”

Frankly, he had stopped listening to you as soon as you had said, 'It’s just that it's the first thing you ever bought me and…and you got me the same coffee every morning and I didn’t want to ruin it’- what kind of idiot continues to torture herself every morning just to keep her boyfriend happy- no one had ever done that for him, hell, you’d been drinking Jongho’s strongest brews for almost a year without complaint just to keep him happy? Just to make him feel loved? Were you like an angel who had lost her way while going back up to heaven or something and had mysteriously landed in his arms? Or was he being rewarded by a higher entity? 

“W-what?” you whispered only to feel him squeeze your hands this time and repeat the words, “I.Love.You.” Only in return, he had earned not only your heart but your whole being, and if you weren’t at work, you would have smothered him with kisses, well, perhaps you could do that in the car before you go for your brunch- lunch, it was definitely lunch time now.

“I love you too, Joong.”

Perfect Puzzle Picture

Personal Song Rec〜☆ Bewitched Laufey

Doctor Park Seonghwa was a busy man, one of the best neurologists in his town, with a great track record of patients, and an even better relationship with patients- he was smart, skilled, kind and handsome, a whole package. A package that may have potential mother-in-laws approve of him without a background check, he was a total catch- with the brains, looks and financial stability, there was only one problem, Dr Park Seonghwa was a total nerd. Once the scrubs would come off, the man would morph into a cat mom; introverted, shy, in this case, the cat was the resident cardiologist, a shining star, Dr Choi, who one would often find in Dr Park’s residence or around him at work if the two were free- some even assumed that these two were ‘a thing��. Mind you, as soon as this rumor had made it to him, he had told Dr Choi to disappear or he’d pull his brain out of his nostrils, Egyptian mummy style. Oh, he was also a nerd, with an abnormal obsession with Lego sets.

Ironically, it had been due to his love for lego sets that he had met you, one fine night, and just like the God sent blessing you were, you had smiled at him politely when your hands had touched reaching for the last box of the  X-Wing Starfighter™, only for him to quickly pull away apologising, “You can have it, Miss.” He didn’t want to let it go, but seeing such a pretty little lady buying an intricate set had his lego-loving fanboy-self force him to bow to your mysterious self. Though your response had completely caught him off guard, “Oh, you can have it, my nephew is like 10, I was just getting this one because it's expensive and I can be the cool aunt.” That night your fate of being a cool aunt had been sealed, oh, and you had managed to somehow acquire the friendship of a cute doctor, who had also paid for this lego set…and a few more, each with a backstory you did not care remembering, too mesmerized by his beauty, and amused by his interest in his little hobby, admiring his dedication, since your short attention span barely ever had you finishing a 20 piece picture puzzle, let alone a whole 3-d set.

Therefore, your friendship had slowly blossomed into something more, something more precious, more pure and intimate- of course after the approval of the great Dr.Choi, who at the first glance at you had turned to the neurologist and stated, without thinking- one of his not so good qualities- “She’s way out of your league, hyung.” As a result, he had received a kick, and was told to leave their ‘lunch table’ at once, or he’d complain about him to HR. Nonetheless, Seonghwa was glad to have met you, you were sweet, kind, considerate, and somewhat of a people’s pleaser but something he really admired about you was how when you’d walk into the room, you would be all that he could see, you were the flame to his moth- something about you was so attractive that he’d often end up giggling in bed at the thought of you. Perhaps it was the way you accepted him as a whole, his flaws and his best qualities, how you’d clean with him, how you’d cook for him, how you’d secretly stalk healthy items in his ‘snack cabinet’ and how you’d always leave him craving for more, especially when you’d come to visit him for lunch at the hospital- oh you’d drive him too, and he was grateful, he could drive, but you were a much better driver and at least everyone wasn’t shipping him with Dr.Choi Stupid anymore, since you were very clearly in the picture. Nonetheless, you were a romantic- in secret- and Park Seonghwa, oh he loved that because he was a smart man, who’d know how to use this inclination of yours, which is why a year ago he had asked you out, on valentines day, and guess what? After three months of courting you, meeting your family, and becoming your nephew’s ‘favourite Doctor’, you had said yes to a date you would never forget- especially as the two of you sat at the top of the Ferris wheel, hand in hand, staring at the sunset, alone together, your silence singing around you, enveloping the two of you in a symphony that could only reach its harmonious peak through the beating of your hearts as they waltz under the glow of your admiration for each other.

Tonight was the night, the night he had decided to take their relationship to the next level, their first anniversary was the perfect moment to be doing this, he thought to himself as he picked up the box wrapped in plastic, smiling at the way this was not only romantic but an easy piece to build- it also catered to your ‘bouquets are killing live flowers, so I don’t prefer something so temporary’ policy. The Wildflower Bouquet was something you two could build together, it would officially be your first Lego set, and the first ever Lego set the two of you could build together, perhaps after that, you could play a movie in the background, Barbie The Island Princess one you liked so much, it was the first movie the two of you had watched anyway. Yes, this was a good plan, after dinner, the two of you could clean up, and get to it at home, working together on this. With this thought he had it wrapped up in the shiniest, prettiest wrapping paper, matching his vibrant smile he made his way to the restaurant where you were waiting for him, ready with a big meal for your big boy.

You looked around the hall filled with couples, feeling a bit more special because a romantic holiday wasn’t the only reason you were here, waiting for your boyfriend, no, it was your anniversary as well, and somewhere deep down inside of you, bubbled those three words you wanted to blurt out to him- not yet, you’d tell yourself, Seonghwa was a wonderful man, honest and loyal to the bone, but you didn’t want to scare him off, pressure him into something- he’d take things slow and you knew that, he was more interested in showing you how he felt through his little gestures, and-

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

You glanced up from the table to smile at the man who looked at you like you were his whole world, and to some extent you knew you were, this look was the only reason you were waiting patiently- any other man would’ve been kicked out pretty soon, not this clown though, he happened to be your clown, one you somehow gave your heart to, to juggle around.

“It’s alright, I’ve already ordered for the both of us,” you stated out, knowing it was very much okay to do so, because this man could and would eat anything, as long as the serving size was enough for a small village- lord knows how jealous you were of his efficient metabolism.

“No problem at all, that’s good because now I can give you this!” he smiled, letting out an excited giggle as he placed the box on the table and pushed it towards you, his smile growing bigger at your gasp followed by an “Aww…Hwa, thank you!”

Fingers tracing the glossy paper you smiled at your reflection before glancing at him then proceeding to open the packaging only to stop mid-way as you stared at the box, not noticing the concerned look plastered on the face of your lover who whispered, “Is everything okay sunshine?” Did he mess up? Was this not romantic enough? Shit. Of course, it wasn’t Park Seonghwa, she wasn’t a ten-year-old boy or a grown man with a weird obsession with toys-

“Seonghwa- I- Hey, earth to Dr.Park!”

He snapped out of his self-berating monologue at your voice, his glossy orbs meeting your confused ones, wait- was the guilt?

You placed the gift bag on the table and slid it towards him, “Open it up doc.”

With a small pout, he reached into the bag, pulling out a box, only to pause when he looked at it, before looking at you then the box, then HIS box, then back at you when you let out a sheepish chuckle, “Guess both of us have the same ideas when it comes to romance, huh, doc?”

“Oh…yeah,” he breathed out before mumbling, “First Lego set idea?”

“Yeaaah…” you mumbled, “Thought doing it with you would be romantic- well, I mean YOU did too.” you smiled at him and took the boxes, placing them in the bag and on the ground when the waiter arrived with your food, as you stared at your man who was looking at you like you had just broken him- in fact you had. Never in a million years had Park Seonghwa thought he’d find someone who’d enjoy his hobby with him, he was well and fine with knowing you could tolerate it, but knowing that you were going out of your way to start something new with him, something that meant the world to him, something that could be just something the two of you did together, meant one thing and one thing only-

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You were pouring water in his cup when his words echoed in your ears, a smile gracing your lips as you eyes flickered up from the glass to your boyfriend who looked like he was going to explode in the next ten seconds if you did not meet him with similar sentiments, lucky for him, you did-

“I think I love you too, Doc.”

He visibly shivered in his seat, smiling at you like your little goofy clown anticipating what was to come next. The night was still young, after this very delicious-looking meal he could take you home, he could show you his new cloud-shaped cotton candy bath bomb, and after a little fun in the tub, the two of you could be all cosy in your matching PJs he had been keeping in secret to give you on your birthday- screw it, he’d get you something else on your birthday, maybe even propose to you- and then the two of you could spend the rest of the night building one set after the other, with whatever the hell you wanted as background noise, because he’d be too busy, too obsessed, too absorbed in your beauty, your presence, your being as a whole- he had finally found his missing puzzle piece to make his heart whole.

Game of Love

Personal Song Rec〜☆ Old Love Yuji & Putri Dhalia

“DADDY DILUC HERE WE GO!”

Yunho looked up from his phone to chuckle at your excitement, sitting there in your office attire, heels kicked off near the door, your dress shirt crinkly because of the entire days of hard work, hair in an extremely tight ponytail so you could focus, manspreading on his couch- thank God you were wearing pants- slouching against his couch with the controller in hand. You had been working like a dog at work, hour over hour, nonstop meetings and work that truly would scar a normal human being.

He used to think his job was stressful, having a dog cafe wasn't the easiest thing out there, with so many things to manage, but when he had seen an office woman tired and exhausted, pressing her forehead against the cool glass door of his closed cafe, staring down at a puppy with the saddest pout he had ever seen, he had realised that maybe there were more exhaustive jobs out there. That night he had let you in, nodding at the way you apologised constantly, telling him you had a horrible day at work and just wanted to spend time with the puppers- that and how “stupid apartment policy didn't allow pets.” He didn't really get an chance to give in his two cents because you were so busy hugging every dog that came your way, only for him to realise that you were a regular…only that you'd often come around at this time -closing time- and a “Fairy Prince Manager Guy”, would let you in for 10-15 minutes. Ah, Kang Yeosang, truly a God sent miracle of some kind.

Since that night, Yunho would send Yeosang off early, telling him that he'd close up, that was his job as the owner of course and like the innocent bub the Maltese - sorry- Doberman was, he never questioned, only merrily skipped away with his things all packed up. Each night Yunho would let you in, sometimes he'd even make you something to eat, watching you play around with the dogs while he'd clean up, sometimes you'd help him arrange the things and take the dogs to their beds, sometimes he'd watch you take a small nap with the dogs. And one night much like the others, he had mustered up the courage to ask you out and amid the canine chaos you had giggled out a ‘yes’.

So, after almost a year of being together, your boyfriend who was a true gamer at heart was now sitting in his living room on the floor, back pressed against the couch, phone in hand trying to play a co-op mode with you because you had agreed to game with him only if you played Genshin Impact because “I gotta mine for daddy Diluc.” He had picked you up from work and you had had dinner in the car, refusing to go into the restaurant, so the drive through it was, and as soon as you had reached his apartment complex he had received a big smooch on his cheek followed by a “Thank you, Yuyu~”.

Now, the two of you were going to game, spend some quality time together, even though it was almost midnight, tomorrow was a day off and you were dying to spend time with your very considerate and caring man, who deserved the world and for some reason, the world had given him a girlfriend who barely spent time with him. Therefore, if you had forced yourself to leave work today, going to the restaurant would have wasted time which is why you insisted you have dinner in the car, the sooner you'd reach home the sooner you could spend time with Yunho.

Yunho glanced up at you, chuckling at how you cursed when you lost a team member, “NOooo Razor my boy!” Shaking his head in amusement he looked back at his smaller screen, thinking of how busy he had been the past whole week. One of his dog's was sick so he had been making frequent visits to the Vet, and that's where the infamous doctor Jung Wooyoung had graciously told him, “Keep on ignoring your girl and she'll definitely leave you.” ” Did he then look at the doctor and almost debate on whether he should punch him in the face or not? Yes, he did, but instead of listening to his intrusive thoughts, he decided to take the other approach, one that had most of society believing Jeong Yunho was a very emotionally stable and nice guy, “And you know this how?”

Wooyoung who was patting the cute Shiba Inus, hummed in return, “When couples don't spend enough time together, their connection can weaken, leading to decreased intimacy, poor communication, potential feelings of neglect, and a lack of shared experiences, which can ultimately strain the relationship and potentially lead to resentment or a fading spark between partners; essentially, the bond between them may deteriorate due to lack of quality time together.”

That was all it took to convince Jeong Yunho to spend time with you no matter what, hence, the gaming session. Ever so often he’d glance up at you, smiling at your focused expressions, admiring the way you looked so natural in your element, enough to have him move onto the couch, right next to you, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ear, his fingertips caressing your cheek in the process before you turned to him with a pout that had his heart clench, urging him to hug you close, smother you with his attention. You had handed him the controller, “You better win, Jeong,” with that you had skipped to the kitchen, looking for something to eat for the two of you, perhaps to make a cup of tea for yourself as well. By the time you had returned with a bag of chips and two cups of tea your boyfriend had ascended your character which almost had you falling to your knees to propose to him- speaking of propose, for a while you had been wondering if you should say those three words to him. Yunho was a smart man, he was a reliable man, and most of all he was an honest man, so you really were not sure what was stopping you from declaring your undying love for him. Maybe it was the fact that he could sometimes be too night, a part of you wondered if he felt the same way about you, you knew he liked you, but did he love you? That is exactly why you had yet to say anything to him, wanting him to make the first move, it would be safer if he did so, it would be better if he did so, because for all you know, maybe he was tired of you-

“You okay?”

His words caught you off guard, almost dropping your cup in the process, clearing your throat. You smiled up at him and nodded, “Just…a little tired Yuyu, that’s all.”

With a slight nod he pouted at your response, leaning closer to place, brushing his lips over your forehead before sighing, “How about we call it a night? You can just wish on the banner later-”

The man could not even finish the sentence because you had snatched the controller out of his hand to wish on the various character banners- thankful that your man was a good grinder, feeding your gambling addiction.

Yunho snorted at the way you were wishing non-stop, whining at every pull, ah, leave it to you to do something like that, you didn’t even hear him when he had declared a bathroom trip, “I’ll be back in ten minutes- the burger really didn’t set well.”

It did not set well at all, his insides were on fire and he’d be lying if he were to say he didn’t open the little washroom window and that he did not in fact use up the entire air freshener. If you had to use the washroom, he’d have to ask you to wait, otherwise, you’d probably break up with him if you were to smell the aftermath of the war that had taken place in the tiled room. He huffed in exhaustion, glancing at his wristwatch, 4 A.M., it was late, even if you had a day off, you needed to sleep, good thing he changed the sheets today, you could take his bed and he'd take the couch.

Walking into the living room to find the TV switched off, remote controllers back in place on the console, coffee table clean, if he were to check the kitchen, he would find washed dishes and a cleaned counter. He saw you sitting on the couch, purse beside you, your phone in your lap- wait? You were leaving? Were you calling an Uber? You couldn’t possibly think he’d tell you to leave at this hour of the night, never- he wouldn’t drop you off either, knowing you, you’d just fall face first on your couch and wake up with the worst back pain next morning. He was about to ask you to sleep here when he heard a light snore, eyes flickering up from your phone to your face- oh, you were asleep. A small smile graced his lips as he sat down on the couch next to you, slowly reaching to caress your cheek, a form of guilt spreading through him as he noticed your tired features, something inside him blossoming, confirming that feel that he’d been pushing deep down within him, trying to ensure to not slip- but here he was ready to confess to you, confess that he had decided to spend the entirety of his life with you, solely because he had never met anyone who was so ready to spend time with him, spend time doing what he’d like. He’d shown you all sides of him, how he was a sweet man, how this same sweet man could snub rude customers who were mean to animals, how you’d seen him get cranky if he was woken up after a rough sleep, and how he’d shown you what he was like in his lowest when you’d come to his apartment to check up on him when his senior husky, Macho Man, the first dog he started his cafe with had passed away due to old age, though it had taken a big toll on him. You had walked into his apartment, looking around at the mess but dared not to utter anything negative, instead you had tiptoed to the six-foot-plus man who was curled in his bed, all tired and sad, coercing the heaps of blankets off him, as you helped him sit up, cupping his face, wiping his tears, “Aww….Yuyu….he’s in a better place now, playing with all those cute big and small doggos up there.” Kissing his tears dry you had pulled him out of bed, had him take a nice path and then had dragged him out in the sun, showing him why he had begun feeling about you this way.

You slowly opened your eyes to Yunho looking intently at you, deep in thought as his fingers continued to run through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Actually, that had been what had you slowly slip out of your sleepy state, you felt ‘too relaxed’, not a feeling your nervous, overworked body was used to-

“I love you.”

Your breath hitched at the quiet whisper, finally twitching in action, reaching to grab his hand and bringing it down to your lap, clasping his hand in both of yours as you smiled at him, taking in his shocked expressions, “Care to repeat that for me?”

He raised a brow at your little smirk before shaking his head and giving you a big smile, “Well…I was declaring my love for my sleeping beauty who seemed to be spying on me.”

Your laughter echoed in the living room as you felt him move closer and envelope you in a hug, arms circling around you, squeezing you closer when you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Taste of Love

Personal Song Rec〜☆ I Feel Loved Aden, Amin

“Yes, but have you shown her your horrible taste pallet?”

Even though he wanted to argue with the stupid vet, he knew what Wooyoung met. Wooyoung had known Yeosang since middle school, he'd seen how weird the pretty airhead can be, especially when it came to his snacks. Wooyoung scratched the dog's ear before looking at Yeosang, “Dating a pastry chef and not telling her about your horrendous desserts is a bit of a deal breaker don't ya think?”

That was why Kang Yeosang had asked Jongho to give his best worker ant a day off on Valentine's day. He only said yes because it was Yeosang, anyone else would have gotten thrown out at such a barbaric request. You had smiled up at him, wiping your hands with your apron at the sight of the princely man who was talking to your boss, curious about what was going on. Only for them to split when you came closer, Jongho mumbling something about a day off tomorrow and your pretty boyfriend offered you a shy smile and giggled, “Dinner at my place tomorrow?”

Not a bad idea, you loved spending time with him, watching him game for hours, playing with dogs at his workplace, going for walks with him- anything actually, you just wanted good company and Yeosang could definitely be considered as great company. What was worrying you however, was his constant fidgeting. You'd never seen him like this, worrying over the slightest of things, running around the table to hand you a tissue instead of just passing the box. He didn't even let you get up to help him set the table.

You had brought fried chicken and a soda, even though he was persistent that you didn't need to, it was his treat, true, but you couldn't come empty handed, so…you may have brought a nice fudge cake for dessert too, something you had been planning to launch at the cafe, but you wanted your Sangie to taste it first, so he could give you his review and you could mold it to his taste.

Yeosang stared at the box in the kitchen, leaning closer to sniff the chocolate, God, it smelt divine but YOU and your GENEROUS LOVING BEHAVIOUR had foiled his plans of his dessert dish with your much normal, much more delicious and well thought out dish. Running his fingers through his hair he wondered if he should come out clean to you right now, “Love, I gotta tell you something, I Kang Yeosang am a total freak.” Or okay maybe he could rephrase it, “I gotta show u my true self, please don't run away my love, please, trust me, my intentions are pure.”

“Sangie?”

You called out, coming into the kitchen with the dirty plates in hand as you set them in the sink, eying the way he was staring at the cake, “What's the matter? Don't you like it?”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile, one that calms you down before he walked over and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I made dessert too…can we…try that first?”

Your head tilted to the side as you pondered for a moment before smiling at him, “That's why you've been so worried?” You reached for his cheek only to pinch it, earning a gasp from him before moving and running out of the kitchen, calling for him as you took a seat at the table “I'm waiting Chef Kang!”

Yeosang felt his cheeks heat up at that name, technically wasn't nervous about that but at least your consolation made him feel a bit better as he answered back, “Be right there!”

You stared at the bowl in front of you, ramen…and chocolate?

“Is this…a foreign dish, Sangie?”

He felt his heart clench at your innocence, oh God, he was about to destroy you, break you, ruin you for life. Shaking his head he handed you a spoon, “It's….my recipe…”

“Oh!? I got a special treat from Chef Kang himself!?” You giggled before taking a spoonful of broth and sniffing in. It didn't smell bad, though it was an odd choice of combined goods but, you trusted him, you trusted him with your heart and soul. That thought in mind you tasted the dish, freezing on the spot.

Yeosang was eagerly sitting next to you, he had dragged his chair next to yours, with a glass of water in hand and a tissue box near him, in case your reflex reaction were to spit it out. He watched the way your facial expressions change, from curiosity to determination and then you froze, as if you were trying to calculate something, comprehend something, trying to rationalise it. Good lord, she was probably thinking of how to break it to him- no what if she was phrasing a polite way of breaking up with him and-

“I LOVE THIS!”

His breath hitched at your screech, taking in the way you squealed, “I mean sure, it's not everyone's cup of tea but the sweet and spicy taste- the broth is tangy! plus the ramen adds a soft texture to it- why haven't you given me this before?”

He had honestly stopped listening because the moment you had called him a great cook- well, something like that, it was close enough, the point is, he had just realised something, something he was about to blurt out,

“I love you!”

Your monologue stopped as you turned your head to stare at the man who was staring back at you, his shaky hands reaching to cup your face as he blinked at you before whispering again, “I love you…” if there was one thing Yeosang was sure of, it was that he had developed these strange feelings for you, that had him thinking about you 24/7, that had him wanting to be close to you or near you, that's why he'd walk 10 blocks To the cafe for his lunch break, only so he could stare at you work around, passing him a smile every time you'd make eye contact with him. He just didn't know what to call it, he had no words to describe this warm fuzzy feeling…well…that is until now,

“I really do….love you.”

[moonreader1010]

The fantasy they can’t stop thinking about with you?

𝓟𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓐 𝓟𝓘𝓛𝓔 - ・❥・: ̗̀➛

︵‿︵‿୨♡ Ｒｅａｄｉｎｇ ｂｙ － ＭＡＥ ♡୧‿︵‿︵ PLEASE

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DO CHECK OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF THE READING IT WILL BE A BIG HELP

PILE 1

There’s something about you that completely wrecks them in the best way possible. You are the kind of temptation that lingers in their mind, teasing them, challenging them, making them work for every inch of you. They fantasize about the push and pull, the tension that builds between you two like an irresistible storm, thick with anticipation. You don’t just give in you make them earn it, and that only makes them crave you more. The way you tease, the way you hold back just enough to make them desperate for more it’s intoxicating, infuriating, and exactly what keeps them coming back. They see you as someone they can't just have; they have to fight for you. And when that final barrier collapses, when you finally let them in? That’s when everything shifts. That’s when the fire between you two becomes too much to contain, turning into something wild, uncontrollable, and all-consuming.

And when it finally happens? It’s raw. Unfiltered. They don’t just want to touch you they want to feel you, to claim every inch of your body with their hands, their lips, their very being. They imagine you being just as hungry for them as they are for you, gripping them tighter, pulling them closer, dragging your nails across their skin as if to mark them as yours. They want to see the way your breath catches, the way your body reacts to them in ways that words could never describe. There’s an edge to their fantasies, a hint of something untamed, something that makes them lose themselves in you completely. They want you to ruin them, to take them apart piece by piece and put them back together in a way that only you can. And after it’s all over, after the storm has passed and the fire has burned its way through you both, they still want more because with you, once is never enough.

PILE 2

They don’t just want you, they need you in ways that haunt them, in ways that keep them up at night with thoughts they can’t shake. Their fantasies aren’t rushed or frantic no, they’re deliberate, lingering, drawn out like a slow burn that keeps them on edge for days. They picture you as someone in control, someone who knows exactly what you’re doing to them. The way you look at them, the way you hold back just enough to make them wait for it it drives them absolutely insane. They dream of you teasing them with your words, with your gaze, making them prove that they deserve you. And the more you make them wait, the more they want you, need you, ache for you. They imagine you taking your time, watching them squirm under your touch, making them earn every second of pleasure you give them. It’s intoxicating, maddening, and yet it’s exactly what makes them want you even more.

They imagine the moment when you finally let the walls down, when the teasing turns into something more, something deeper. The weight of your body against theirs, the way your fingertips trail down their skin with an agonizing slowness, making them shiver in anticipation. They want to hear the way your breath hitches, to feel the way you melt into them, surrendering completely despite the fact that you were the one holding all the power just moments before. It’s not just about the physical it’s about the way you make them feel. You awaken something in them that no one else ever has, something that shakes them to their very core. With you, it’s more than just desire it’s transformation, revelation, something almost spiritual. And they want to drown in it, in you, over and over again, until there’s nothing left of them except the way you make them yours.

PILE 3

You are their ultimate fantasy, the one they can never seem to get enough of, the one they can’t stop thinking about no matter how hard they try. There’s something about you that has them completely under your spell, something about the way you carry yourself, the way you look at them like you know exactly what kind of power you hold over them. They imagine the way you toy with them, making them desperate, making them crave your touch, your approval, your attention. You don’t just give you take, and they wouldn’t have it any other way. They fantasize about the way you control the pace, the way you pull them in and then leave them hanging on the edge, desperate for more, desperate for you. You know exactly how to play this game, and they? They are utterly, completely, and willingly at your mercy.

But it’s not just about pleasure it’s about the way you own them in those moments, the way you make them forget every doubt, every hesitation. With you, there is no past, no future only this, only the overwhelming need, the way their body responds to your touch like it’s the only thing that matters. They think about you claiming them, about you knowing exactly how to push them past their limits, how to make them beg without even saying a word. It’s a dangerous kind of obsession, one that leaves them breathless, wrecked, ruined but completely and utterly addicted. Because once you have them? Once you’ve touched them, owned them, unraveled them in a way that no one else ever has? There is no going back. They are yours. Completely. Irrevocably. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

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