✰ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “You can take more than that." & "We might get caught. Does that turn you on?" -- Your ridiculous innuendoes in the gym with Soap go too far for Ghost's liking.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content:18+ MDNI. ft. Soap, Gym & Exercising, ridiculous innuendoes, angry sex, rough handling, spanking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mild degradation, possessiveness, jealous Ghost.

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"That all you can do?"

You exhale sharply as you drop the barbell onto the gym floor. The heavy cast iron plates clang against the floor, the crash reverberating across the open gym as you glower up at the masked man.  

Ghost stands above you, his black tank top clinging to his sweaty torso and accentuating his muscular physique. He's tucked it into the waistband of his grey sweatpants. It's so odd to see him outside of his kit- almost scandalous. His skull mask still sits over his face, covering down to where his clavicles meet at the base of his throat, but his biceps are on full display, black ink sharp against his pale skin. 

Heaving pants escape your lips as you wipe perspiration from your brow with the back of your forearm. Yes, you're working up a sweat, but something about seeing so much of Ghost's skin has you as hot on the inside as you're showing on the outside. 

"L.t," you huff, still struggling for your breath, "I'm doing the best I ca-"

"C'mon, love," he grumbles, eyes settled firmly on the barbell resting across your lap, "You can take more than that."

You're about to dispute that claim, to tell a commanding officer to go fuck himself, but thankfully Johnny 'Soap' McTavish has a habit of running his mouth. His obnoxious laugh bounces off the mirrored walls of the gym, and you can't help but smirk when Ghost's eyes roll back in his head. 

"Johnny-"

"That's a bit crude, ain't it, L.t.?" You can hear the grin on his face before you can see him. 

"Might need to wash your mind out with Soap, Johnny," Simon grumbles, but his joke is lost to the one currently swirling in Johnny's head. The particularly heavy Scottish lilt to his voice tells you he feels pretty proud of whatever gag he's come up with. "Suppose ye could say-"

"Don't you dare, Sargeant." Ghost means it; you can hear it in his voice. He's not playing around. But, sadly for Simon, every day is a play day for Soap, and he advances with his ridiculous comment regardless. 

"That's what she said."

Simon looks ready to kill Soap with his bare hands, grumbling something about dropping a dumbbell on the Scotsman's, quote, 'stupid skull'. 

"Add more weight, Delta," Simon orders you through gritted teeth. 

"It's gonna be harder," you point out, a grin splitting your lips at the double-edged sentence. Soap catches on to your childish innuendo, smirking as he watches Ghost's eye twitch. 

"Focus on me," he insists, trying to get you to ignore Johnny's jibes and concentrate on the task at hand. 

"Naw, L.t., yer suppose'ta grab her chin and make her look in yer eyes as you fuc-"

"Sargeant." He doesn't yell. Ghost's strained voice mumbles Soap's name, but his eyes are like bayonets piercing the resolve of the cheeky Scotsman. Soap looks down to the foam mats beneath his feet, mumbling a quiet 'sorry, L.t.' 

Next, Ghost's livid gaze turns to you. A chill runs down your spine as he leans down and picks up the ridiculously heavy barbell with one hand before dumping it beside you. 

"Leave it. In the changin' room. Now." 

Simon doesn't even need to pull rank. You're up on your shaky legs and scurrying to the changing rooms without a word. Despite his signature silent footsteps, you're almost positive he's hot on your heels. You're only sure when the door slams behind you, the mirrors inside the changing rooms rattling against their fixtures drilled into the wall. 

"Fuckin' come'ere," Simon's hand grabs ar your shoulder, steering you towards the sink. You're tripping over your own feet as he shoves you against it, your chest pressed to the cold shared basin. 

"You're gonna learn to take your Commanding Officer seriously, Delta," he growls in your ear, his chest pressed heavily against your spine as his paw rips down your gym leggings and underwear in one fell swoop. "Insubordination will not be tolerated." 

Your naked lower half is exposed to the door, only shielded by Simon's ginormous hips as he pushes them against your ass. His clothed cock grinds up perfectly against your soaked folds, and you wail at the idea that there will be a wet patch when he steps away. 

"We might get caught. Does that turn you on?" Simon scoffs, the harsh sound coming from him. He punctuates his query with a sudden snap of his wrist, connecting with the soft flesh of your ass in a stinging slap. "Filthy slut."

Despite the apparent punishment, you're rewarded for taking the spank with only a whimper. Simon pushes the waistband of his sweats down, pulling out his ridiculously huge cock and pumping it slowly. Fuck~

"C'mere," Ghost barks again, his hand grasping an almost bruising hold of your hip as he pushes the blunt head of his cock into your slick cunt. You sob out suddenly, nails digging into the ceramic basin of the sink as he splits you open brutally. 

Simon's never rushed you like this. He always takes his time, easing your fluttering pussy open with his fingers. Not this time; he's disciplining you. 

"Fuck- sofuckingtight", he spits out, eyes settled between where your hips meet, "You can take more than that, love. Can see you creamin' 'round my cock already." 

The filthy words pouring from Ghost's mouth make your eyelids quiver, irises glazed over as arousal sweeps your core. He rocks forward again, dick punching into you as your walls finally give way to the intrusion. 

"Hah-HaaFuck-" Ghost groans out, palm slapping at the flesh of your hip as he suddenly fucks hard and sharp into your brutalised cunt. "Thas it- C'mon. Gonna teach you a fuckin' lesson-"

"I'm sorry, Simon!" You choke out, each word coming out in a pathetic wail that already has his cock twitching inside you. The head of his dick bumps your cervix, and each solid thrust has your body jolting up the counter. 

"You fuckin' scream it, love. Let 'im know who you belong to." Let Johnny know he can't have you because you're mine. That's an order. 

"You, Lieutenant-" you cry out, tears slipping down your cheeks as you watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror that rattles on the wall with each sharp punch of his hips, "I belong to you!" 

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I think one of the most interesting things about Oliver is that he absolutely could’ve been a permanent fixture at Saltburn with Felix if only he had been a little less greedy. His biggest downfall is that his upper middle class privilege made him overly presumptuous with his greed in a way that left cracks in his carefully thought out plans.

First and foremost, it’s important to note that Oliver is an unreliable narrator in ways that made his third act monologue an unexpectedly interesting part of the film. His monologue is meant to not only justify his actions but is also a way for Oliver to make himself out to be smarter and better than he truly is. He’s working overtime to convince himself that he’s won and that he’s achieved this through his own actions. Whether you chose to believe him or not is up to you; what really matters is that you understand that no matter how big (or little) of a role he played in securing Saltburn for himself, he still royally fucked up his original plan on multiple occasions. He is not a mastermind who got what he originally wanted all along. He was not all knowing and he was not watching everyone play checkers while he played chess. Oliver. Fucked. Up.

The bicycle scene (whether you believe he tampered with the tire or not) and the pub rescue scene were more than enough to win over Felix. Felix was shallow and would've given no extra thought to Oliver's usefulness or perceived poverty. Oliver could’ve hinted at a difficult home situation and used the family strain he already experienced as a hook for Felix if necessary. It would’ve been enough... but then Oliver got greedy. He started building up the poverty case more and more, in the hopes of getting more and more of Felix, and that was his first major mistake.

It’s important to remember that we see Felix not from Oliver’s POV directly, but from Oliver’s POV in his twisted retelling that we have no reason to believe. Though Oliver probably knew Felix intimately, he doesn't share that Felix with us. He shares the godly image he built in his mind that is tainted by his own self deprecation. In Oliver’s world Felix was seconds from dropping him at any given moment, because why would Felix keep Oliver? In reality, Felix had already deemed Oliver the perfect new toy. Sure, Felix was irritated in the cleaning argument scene… but if we work under the assumption that Felix had already chosen Oliver, then Oliver pointing out his privilege in an way that made him acknowledge it would’ve ultimately intensified Felix’s saviour complex once he got past the initial discomfort. It might’ve taken a moment, but Felix would’ve ran straight back to Oliver soon enough. Though Oliver couldn't see it, we see through the jealousy Felix's circle of friends display that Oliver was a more permanent fixture in Felix is life than most were comfortable with. The problem was that Oliver couldn't handle the wait, and his greed overrode his patience and lead to yet another mistake when he escalates the situation by bringing in a dead father that he didn’t actually need.

Farleigh and Oliver’s dynamic is so interesting because Farleigh immediately recognises Oliver for what he truly is. Farleigh has an interesting class dynamic where by right he should be a permanent fixture at Saltburn as a member of the Catton family, but he’s been carelessly demoted to upper middle class purgatory. He recognises Oliver as his competition almost immediately despite having played this game for far longer. Farleigh is happy to play this game in school, because he knows it well enough to win, but then Farleigh is shaken when he realises Oliver has become his competition in fighting their way into the Catton family. Farleigh recoginses what Oliver doesn't, that Oliver is permanent. He hates that Oliver’s race mixed with his Oscar winning poverty act has given Oliver that extra boost that makes him a real threat to Farleigh's place in Saltburn.

This is what makes the karaoke scene so interesting. Up until that point Farleigh see's Oliver as lesser and underserving of a place at Saltburn. The karaoke scene shows a significant shift where Farleigh finally accepts Oliver as a worthy opponent and potential teammate. With the obvious attraction between them Oliver should’ve taken him up on his truce without question. Alas, Oliver’s greed takes control once more and he immediately tries to place himself above Farleigh despite the offer of solidarity presented to him. This is what leads to the Rent scene where Farleigh successfully declares war once more, and where Oliver calls him over to finish the song in a way that ensures that he wins that round. The problem is that unlike Farleigh, who is focused on playing an upper middle class game of infiltrating the 1%, Oliver gets so lost in cosplaying poor that he loses focus of what the real game is. He’s so focused on the humiliation his poor character must feel from singing Rent that he loses sight of the acceptance of the role the song portrays that Farleigh displays which allows for Farleigh to win the next round. He fails to recognise that he needs Farleigh as an ally to get what he truly wants, and that was one of his biggest mistakes of all.

Oliver's want for Felix ultimately becomes his biggest downfall as he lays the foundations for relationships with the Cattons only to taint those relationships for Felix's comfort. Felix didn't need to be happy with Oliver at all times, but Oliver was greedy for the affection that came with Felix is good graces. Oliver singlehandedly undid the work he had done on Venetia – and by extension the work he had done on Elspeth – to keep Felix's easy affections. Felix was sulking, but he would've gotten over it pretty quickly if Oliver practiced some subtlety and put in just that little bit more work for the affection he craved. Oliver didn't have the patience for the long game. He wanted Felix is affection immediately and that meant that he made the mistake of closing off all alternative entryways into the Catton family prematurely.

Despite all his mistakes Oliver still could've had Felix even after the birthday surprise disaster. Though Felix was angry, he had ultimately declared his love by positioning himself as the Juliet to Oliver's Romeo, as indicated by his costume to Oliver's birthday party. Though Felix's love and care was exploitative and tainted by his privilege, it was also real and present in all the ways that mattered. In the maze, despite Felix is harsh words, what really stands out is how we see Felix contemplate kissing Oliver and doing everything in his power not to give in. It's the first time it's made clear to the audience that Felix is just as dangerously in love as Oliver is. Felix would've taken any excuse imaginable to forgive Oliver in that moment. All Felix was asking for was clarity. Oliver could've given Felix the smallest bit of who he truly was and Felix would've done what he always did and filled in the blanks in a way that allowed him to play saviour. Felix would've given Oliver everything he'd ever wanted in that maze if only Oliver was willing to win the game on Felix is terms. Oliver could've had his cake and eaten it too, but his greed made him want more than that. When he realised he couldn't have it all he made an impulsive decision driven by his unquenchable thirst that lead to his biggest mistake of all. Oliver's need to be better, his need to be smarter, and his need to win the game on his own terms is what ultimately lead to Felix's death.

If Oliver had been more careful he could've had it all through Venetia or Farleigh or Elspeth... but he had already destroyed all alternative pathways through his own greed. When Oliver loses Felix, he loses any chance he might've had at elevating himself into the Catton's league. In the end, Oliver's third act monologue becomes a desperate attempt to make Saltburn worth it. Saltburn is not worth it. Oliver fishes the Cattons stones out of the water because without them Saltburn becomes nothing. In the end Oliver is alone, performing for the Cattons in a house long abandoned. Saltburn is the consolation prize Oliver had to convince himself he always wanted.

Christmas Lights || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x reader

prompt: Going to see christmas lights with Leah

warnings: slight mention of Leahs’s injury, fluff, kissing

a/n: getting close to christmas! enjoy! dont forget to drink water & eat, get a good nights rest, all the sorts.

Entering December, the temperature in north London dropped dramatically. The leaves have fallen, leaving the trees bare. Pulling into your shared home with Leah, you notice that surrounding neighbors have began putting up Christmas lights, some having extremely elaborate decorations.

“Hey baby, I am home” you yell towards your living room where Leah is sat watching a Christmas movie.

“Hi baby” she says as she goes to greet you and pull you in for a quick kiss. “I made some hot chocolate when I got home from training to warm up.”

Making your way to the kitchen, you make yourself a cup and turn towards her, “How was training?”

“It was good, I was able to run today and kick a few balls today!” she says as you can see Leah truly smile. When she tore her ACL, you could tell Leah was slightly lost without football and it was hard for her to not be able to play. Nothing made you more excited and emotional thinking about her return to the pitch.

“Good baby, I am so happy and proud of you. What are the plans for tonight?” you ask as you do not particularly recall any specific plans but seeing the Christmas lights on your way in has an idea occurring in your mind.

“We don’t have any prior plans, what were you thinking baby?” she asks with a bit of question in her voice.

“Lets go downtown and look at the Christmas lights.”

Leah is immediately excited, Christmas has always held a special place in Leah’s heart and she loved any chance she got to engage in any Christmas related activities. “What a great idea! We will need to put on a few more layers though” she says as she looks down and she is only in your jumper and some basic black shorts.

Quickly running upstairs and throwing on your large black puffer jacket, Leah puts on a pair of black pants with a white long sleeved body suit, and finished it off with a black puffer as well. You make sure to grab some gloves and a beanie for yourself.

“Ready to go baby?” you ask her.

“Yes baby, let’s go! I am so excited!” Leah says with a large smile as you know this has been on her list of to-dos for a bit now. Hoping to spend some quality time with you as both of you have been a bit busy during the Christmas time.

You knew a spot that has several beautiful lights located in a nearby park. The drive was fairly quick as Leah tended to disobey every traffic law and speed like her life depended on it. Although you genuinely fear for your life at times when she is behind the wheel, she typically has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, you couldn’t imagine anything hotter so you let her drive as she wanted. Always her passenger princess with no complaints.

Pulling into a parking spot near the entrance, Leah jumps out of the car, excitement taking over her, acting like a kid who was let loose in a candy store.

“Come on baby!” she whined, pulling your hand, ushering you faster.

“Baby I promise you, the lights are not going anywhere” you tell her but it is in one ear and out the other for Leah.

Leah is a woman on a mission, guiding you to the entrance and quickly pays the admission fee.

“Baby I was going to pay!” you whine, always feeling back whenever Leah pays for you.

“I am just trying to get us in before New Years” she says impatiently, forcing you to laugh.

Walking through the guided path, hand in hand, Leah and you take your time looking at each light display, taking in each fixture. There were not many people left in the park as it was starting to get a bit late. There is light snow falling from the sky now.

“It is like a Christmas miracle baby!” Leah beams as this is possibly the most perfect night. The snow falling mixed with the lights, made your Christmas spirit flourish.

Right before exiting the park, there is an arch wishing you both a merry Christmas. Leah pulls you under the arch and points upwards, “Look baby.”

You look up and see small mistletoe. Immediately you pull Leah in for a sensual kiss. The kiss lasting probably longer than it should, you pull away to catch your breath.

“Alright baby, let’s keep it PG in a public park.” you laugh out and interlock your hands, heading towards the car.

“Tonight was really special babe, I loved it!” Leah said to you.

“I am glad you enjoyed baby.” you smile at her, heart full.

Kim H.J.

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

Genre: possibly the most self-indulgent smut ever

Pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub!fem!reader

Tags: dom/sub dynamics, hongjoong is a little mean, spanking, light biting, light choking, nipple play, there is one pussy slap, fingering, oral (f receiving), lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 4.4K

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

Walking with Hongjoong was never boring. Both men and women and everything in-between broke their necks to watch him as he walked by. It made you feel a swirling mixture of emotions - on the one hand, you loved that everyone wanted him, but on the other, people always looked at you as if you didn’t belong with him. Like there was something wrong with you for even daring to stand by his side. The thing is, Hongjoong chose you.

The both of you met using one of those services that help the uber-wealthy find their significant others, except this service had a bit of an alternative flair. Really, the service was used to pair doms with subs but only of a very particular and very high tax-bracket. The doms were presented with a list of subs that met their criteria and the dom had the final say on which sub they were interested in. Erego, Hongjoong chose you. Out of a plethora of other subs he chose you.

That’s why it was so strange to walk beside him and have people shun you for simply being in his presence. You both belonged in the same tax bracket, dammit! And! If you were some sort of hideous creature from the black lagoon, you highly doubted Kim Hongjoong would choose to enter into this agreement with you.

Feeling a little insecure and a little lost in your thoughts, you reached your hand out to hold his hand but stopped yourself just before making contact. Hongjoong had very few rules and his number one rule was No Touching. This broke your heart because physical affection was your favorite form of affection. Not feeling his skin on yours was a special kind of torture, especially when you were feeling so small.

So, you returned your hand to your side and rubbed the palm on the side of your trousers, hoping the friction would alleviate your momentary touch starvation.

Hongjoong noted your subtle movements and let the smallest of smirks crawl up the corner of his lips. He liked that you listened.. He liked that you didn’t push his boundaries. He liked the way you looked and carried yourself. But, most of all, he liked how good you were.

That’s why, a moment later he was placing the softest of touches to the side of your waist. The sudden feeling caused your heart to skip a beat. You swallowed a big gulp of air and tried to act as if nothing was happening. But deep down all you wanted was for him to keep his hand on your body, anywhere on your body, as long as he was the one doing it.

“We’re here,” he breathed into your ear.

The whisper was warm on the shell of your ear and paired with his fingertips on your waist, you could have let him take you right then and there. But instead, you steeled yourself and took a look at where ‘here’ was.

Hongjoong had the door open to a very chic looking clothing boutique. As you stepped through the threshold, Hongjoong immediately dropped his hand from your body. You couldn’t control the small pout that formed on your lips in response. Luckily, he was too busy with the attendant behind the counter to notice. You heard a snippet of a conversation, something along the lines of, “Carlos, get the dressing room ready.” But, by this point you were already inside the store, completely distracted by all the pretty things.

The store itself had high-ceilings with long drippy light fixtures to accentuate the height. White marble ran through the entire length of the store, and even up the farthest wall, blurring the line between floor and ceiling. The wall on the right was lined with racks of clothing while the wall on the left held a display for handbags and shoes. In the center of the store were several free-standing jewelry display cases.

You were currently peering into one of the jewelry cases when a small gold pendant caught your eye - the brand was unfamiliar but you swear you could make out K.H.J in the design. Hm, that was interesting. You examined the surroundings a bit more and found that same brand on several of the handbags, shoes, and even some of the clothing. You picked up one of the bags from the display and read the label - Kim H.J. Wait, did that mean? Is this his store?! But wasn’t he a part of Ateez?!

“Do you like it?”

You whipped around with the purse in your hand to face Hongjoong and were about to barrage him with a series of questions but instead your mouth was left agape. He dropped off his coat somewhere and was just left in a slim fitting black long sleeve button down and slim fitting black slacks. The sleeves of his button down were rolled up to his forearm, exposing the expensive watch on his wrist - the one you got him for your 100th day together. His brown hair was pushed back away from his face exposing his perfectly intense features.

Suddenly your mouth was dry. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t form any words. You blinked back your initial dumbfoundedness and tried to string together a sentence. How could someone look so incredibly handsome wearing such a simple outfit?

“I asked you a question,” his voice stern. The sudden change in attitude brought you back down to earth and you were quick to nod your head. To save yourself from any further mental reboots, you tore your gaze away from his and focused on the bag at hand.

“It’s beautiful..” You managed to mutter. And you really meant it! The handle was a beautiful gold color and the bag itself felt rich and luxurious.

“Good. It’s yours.” Hongjoong stated flatly.

You looked at him again with wonder and confusion but he was turned away, facing toward the same attendant as before. “Carlos, get her one in every color.”

While you were both in the same tax bracket, a bag in every color seemed a bit ridiculous, even for your standards. Your hands were already in the process of putting the bag back while your mouth stumbled over which words to use, “What? I.. I can’t.. That’s tha-”

Hongjoong closed the distance between you while you were still hemming and hawing about whether you were worthy enough to deserve a handbag in every color. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him. “It’s my store,” his voice low enough that only you two could hear, “and you’re my girl.”

The last sentence made you swoon and if he weren’t holding you in place you were sure to have fallen to your knees. His eyes lingered on yours for what felt like an eternity before he let your chin go. Your face burned where his fingers just were - oh, how you wanted him to keep touching you.

“Come, I have something to show you,” He removed the handbag from your hand and placed it back on the display.

Again, your hand reached out to hold his but he was already turning from you and heading to a pair of double doors near the register. You followed closely behind, holding your breath for whatever was to follow.

To your relief, there wasn’t some big bad monster behind the double doors, just a fitting room. The same white marble from the store was carried into the dressing room with pretty black and gold accents highlighting key features. To the right was a series of low cabinetry (presumably with general household items inside) while to the left and to the back of the room were racks of clothing.

Your eyes immediately darted from this to that while trying to take it all in. Everything was so carefully decorated and curated you wondered how he had time to run a clothing store while being an idol. Your fine manicured nails tapped along the black cabinetry as you made your way around the room. You found yourself standing in front of a free-standing rack of clothing filled with an assortment of elegant garments.

“I want you to try those on,” Hongjoong said.

You turned to face him only to find him seated right in front of the wall of mirrors in a low black chair. His arms relaxed onto the sides of the seat as he made himself comfortable. Those ever-piercing brown eyes intently watching your every move.

The intensity from his gaze made your face flush. He was only sitting there, how could he have such a strong grip on your very core? You swallowed a big gulp of air and nodded.

“Use your words… you have such a pretty voice.” The way he intonated his words made you want to crawl right in-between his legs and lavish him with all of your attention. But instead you mustered up the courage to turn and face him directly and nod. “Yes, sir.”

He cocked a brow at your response while running his tongue along his bottom lip. The visual sent an even deeper blush to crawl up your cheeks and even reach your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting, your fingers began to make quick work of removing your clothing. You were in the process of unbuttoning your blouse when you heard Hongjoong chuckle dryly.

“You’re wearing the set I gave you.. Good.”

Suddenly your fingers felt like lead. How could he tell you were wearing the black mesh lingerie set he gifted you? You were only on your third button! Did he just expect you to have it on? Was he hoping you were wearing it? Or did he just have super vision and could actually see through clothes? You licked your lips while trying to gather your thoughts and continued undoing your blouse. As you bent down to pull off your trousers, Hongjoong sighed something deep and heavy.

“You look so good like that, sweetness.”

The pet name caught you off guard and it took everything in you not to pounce on him. He was so devilishly good with his words that you almost forgot about the No Touching rule. You cleared your throat and faced him before bringing yourself to your full height. You watched as his dark eyes took their time traveling the length of your body, admiring every curve before finally coming up to look you in the eye.

“Which one do I try on first, sir?” Your voice barely above a whisper. But you were determined not to let him down. He liked your voice, right? So you were going to let him hear it.

Hongjoong’s finger traced along his bottom lip, aware of the effect it had on you. He liked tormenting you, making you beg for even the slightest crumb of affection. The thing is, you were just so darned good he could never bring himself to hold out for too long. He crossed one leg over the other before saying, “The blue one.”

He continued to watch you with that intense gaze of his as you turned back to the rack of clothes to find ‘the blue one.’ With your back to him you could still feel the weight of his eyes on your body. The slow and careful trail they blazed along your backside caused an eruption of goosebumps to wash over your body. You busied yourself with finding the garment and were rewarded with a pale blue silky number. Removing it from the rack, you could see it was a floor-length silk dress with delicately thin spaghetti straps.

You undid the invisible zipper and stepped into the dress. You pulled the straps over your shoulders and were just about to pull up the zipper when you realized you couldn’t quite reach. “Can you please zip me up, sir?”

You heard the slow shuffle of heeled loafers on marble moments before the warmth of Hongjoong’s fingers found your back. Every time he touched you it was like a shock of electricity. His touches were so far and few between you couldn’t get used to the way his hands felt on your body. You held your breath as he closed the zipper, running his finger nails along the length of your spine excruciatingly slow. Without a word, he grabbed you by the hips and spun you around so you were facing the mirror and he was standing behind you.

Truth be told, you were never really fond of looking at yourself in mirrors - it always felt like someone else. But with Hongjoong behind you and his hands on your body, you were able to take in the full vision. Your head tilted to the side as you appreciated your form in this dress. The silk hung on your body as if it were made for you.

“I sent the factory a photo of your eyes and had them color match the silk,” Hongjoong breathed into your neck, the warmth of his words causing your knees to buckle slightly. Wait, so this dress was actually made for you?! The understanding of his words dawned on you and you were about to protest when you felt the familiar nip of his teeth on your shoulder. You moaned immediately in response and could feel Hongjoong’s grin spread on his lips. You wanted to reach your hands behind you and touch him but you restrained yourself, only tilting your head further to allow him more access.

You looked at the mirror and caught his gaze in it. He was standing behind you with his hands firmly on your hips, his lips pressing against your shoulder, and those deep dark eyes of his intently staring back at you. You watched as he sprinkled butterfly kisses on your right shoulder before moving to your left shoulder. The feeling of his lips on your skin paired with his grip on your hips had you absolutely frozen in place. He nipped at your shoulder again which elicited another moan to fall from your lips, his eyes never tearing away from yours.

The intensity of the moment was too much - you wanted so badly to turn and face him, to devour him with kisses but instead you broke eye contact first and closed your eyes. Focusing on regulating your breathing. Hongjoong respected this small respite and after a moment he began to unzip your dress. The pout was immediate and uncontrolled - did you do something to upset him? Should you not have broken eye contact?

You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize that Hongjoong had also slipped the dress off you and had resumed his position behind you, with his hands on your hips. It wasn’t until the first slap on your bare ass did you come back to him.

“Stay here with me,” he whispered. One hand was holding you in place while the other was softly rubbing the freshly spanked ass cheek. The stinging sensation was slow to form but when it did, it felt like it took over your entire body. “Don’t look away. I want you to watch.” His voice was low and stern but it made you go absolutely feral. You brought your gaze back to the mirror. The hand that was rubbing soft circles on your ass cheek lifted momentarily before delivering another slap. The pain was so sharp it tore a moan from your lips. You threw your head back in pure ecstasy but tried your best to keep watching Hongjoong in the mirror. The intensity that was normally in his eyes deepened and it was then that a familiar smile spread on his lips.

“You. Are. So. Fucking. Pretty.” Every word was accentuated with a slap to your bare ass. And every time he delivered a smack, you reciprocated with a moan. The excitement between your legs was quickly growing. He was so good at making you feel good.

He pulled your body flush to his, so there was nothing separating you but the thin fabric of his fancy attire and your skimpy lingerie. One hand firmly on your hips, holding you in place while the other was slow to come up and wrap around the base of your neck. Again, you wanted to reach for him, to touch him in any way but you restrained yourself. Hongjoong was so incredibly deliberate with his kisses - small, soft, barely there touches along the sensitive skin of your neck all the way up to your ear. It was a divine contradiction to the stinging hand print on your ass.

His fingers tightened their grip on your neck and you could feel his dick starting to harden as it pressed against your back. Daringly, you pressed your body further into his, hoping to accelerate the process. But instead, Hongjoong stopped his kisses to lock eyes with you once more in the mirror. The sternness in his gaze made your breath catch in your throat and you were quick to move away from his body. Pleased with your reaction, Hongjoong continued to his slow and deliberate torture of barely touching your skin with his lips. He was going to take his time and you were going to enjoy it.

Releasing both the hold on your hip and the hold on your neck, Hongjoong let his hands draw light, feathery touches on the exposed skin of your arms, your belly, even the tops of your thighs.. His fingers grazed dangerously close to the hem of your black mesh thong and you could feel the excitement between your legs deepen at all of the soft touches. His hands found their way to your bra and undid the clasp. The sudden cold air on your tits made your nipples harden immediately. Hongjoong reveled in the sight of your exposed breasts and couldn’t resist the temptation to slap them and pinch at your nipples.

You let out another series of ungodly moans while writhing in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Hongjoong continued to pinch and play with your nipples until you could barely form coherent thoughts. You wanted him to stop but you didn’t at the same time. The combination of pain and pleasure was bringing you to an edge you didn’t even know you had. And just as it was getting too overwhelming, Hongjoong stopped. You struggled to manage your breathing while he moved to stand in front of you. You blinked up at him, still whirling from the near over-stimulation.

“Say the word and I’ll stop, sweetness.” His finger tilting your chin up to look at him. Genuine concern and worry were starting to creep into his eyes.

It took you a moment before you could nod and respond, “Yes sir.”

“Good fucking girl.”

The grin that spread across his lips was pure sex. His hand quickly wrapped around the base of your throat once more and forcefully brought you into a kiss. Finally. You eagerly pressed your lips against his and returned the kiss. The grip on your neck loosened and that same hand began to explore your body with its feather light touches yet again.

The kiss was a deep, passionate thing that set your entire core on fire. Just his lips had this effect on you and it made you crazy for the rest of him. His hand worked its way quicker down your body this time, only stopping to give your tits a light squeeze before making its way to the hem of your thong. You wanted to focus on his touches but kissing Hoongjoong was such a delight that you couldn’t bear to tear yourself away from it. That is, until his hand slipped underneath the fabric of your panties and his fingers pressed into your clit. The resulting touch sent a shock of electricity through your body causing you to moan into the kiss.

“I love how wet you get for me.” Hoongjoong smiled. You didn’t care what he had to say, you just wanted his lips on yours again. But when you leaned in for another kiss, he smacked your clit. You yelped in response and he only shook his head. “You’re doing so good, don’t fuck it up.”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded.

Fuck. It was hard for Hongjoong not to immediately cave in and give you what you wanted when you pouted at him like that. His gaze softened just a touch as his fingers started rubbing small circles on your clit. You dared not break eye contact with him but you did allow a shaky breath to pass through your lips. Hongjoong rewarded you by pressing a little bit harder into your clit, giving you the friction that you so dearly desired. Your bodies were so close together, you could feel his completely hardened dick press on the inside of your thigh, right next to where his fingers were pleasing you.

As the pace of his fingers increased, your breathing became irregular and shallow. You were about to ask for permission to cum when all of a sudden, Honjoong pulled away completely. He moved a foot back from you and you dared not to breach that distance. Instead you stood there, knees wobbling and breathing haggard staring up at him with wide doe eyes. You looked absolutely ravished and you hadn’t even started yet. While the both of you tried to calm your breathing, Hongjoong demanded you take off your panties.

You pulled off the black mesh thong and used that time to finally calm your breathing, the arousal in between your thighs subsiding momentarily. But from the corner of your eye you saw Hongjoong with his hand over his bulge, his palm rubbing the full length of his hardened dick through his pants. The sight alone was enough to make your heart race.

He stood there admiring your naked form for what felt like an eternity. Then, he dropped to his knees in front of you, his face eye level with your tormented pussy. He looked up at you and you swore this is what heaven must look like.

“Tell me what you want, sweetness.”

You could feel his breath on your sensitive clit and that alone was enough to send a shiver through your body. You tried to speak but nothing came out at first so you cleared your throat and tried again. This time it was far more hoarse and ragged than you meant it to be but how could you focus when Hongjoong was on his knees in front of you, staring up at you as if you were his north star.

“I want you to eat my pussy, sir.” Even as you heard yourself say the words, you couldn’t believe you were able to actually say them.

Hongjoong responded with that devilish grin once more and maintained eye contact with you as he flicked his tongue across your clit. Your pussy was earth-shatteringly sensitive at this point and that initial contact sent another shock of electricity through your body. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, hold his head in place and not let him leave until he made you cum a thousand times over but you held back. You watched as his tongue expertly massaged your sensitive folds, moan after moan falling from your lips. He loved hearing you respond to his touches.

His hands gripped at your hips and held you in place as his tongue continued its exploration of your clit. He buried his face into your core, lapping up your juices as if it were nectar from the gods. Using his fingers, Hongjoong started to play with your entrance, teasing the delicate spot for a moment before slowly inserting his index finger. He began to pump his finger in and out ever so slowly, allowing you to get used to the feeling before inserting a second finger. All the while his tongue continued to devour your soaking wet pussy.

At this point you couldn’t hold back, you looked down at him and begged, “Please, sir, can I touch you?” Your breath was something between a whisper and a moan but all Hongjoong did was smile, the crinkles around his eyes forming slightly. Taking this as a yes, you finally let your hands fall into the mess of his brown hair. You rake your hands through his hair before taking a handful and grabbing it, effectively holding him in place. You could feel Hongjoong moan in response as the echoes of his moan reverberated against your throbbing pussy.

With the feel of his fingers pumping inside you, expertly hitting that g-spot and his tongue swirling around on your clit you could feel the orgasm building between your thighs. You didn’t want this moment to end but you also wanted the sweet release. You tried to hold out as long as you could but it was to no avail. Hongjoong watched as your face contorted into his favorite expression which only prompted him to pump his fingers faster.

Your breathing was shallow and irregular and you could feel the familiar warmth of an orgasm creeping up inside you. You wanted so badly to prolong this moment but Hongjoong was just too damned good.

“Can I please.. Sir.. Can I cum?” It was hard for you to speak but it was even harder for you to hold back your orgasm. Hongjoong pulled his face away from your pussy, his lips and chin covered in your juices.

“Yes.” It was barely a whisper but it was enough for you to release the high that you had been building. The orgasm ripped through your body in several waves, causing your knees to buckle and the grip in Hongjoong’s hair tightened. He eagerly watched as you rode the high, eventually slowing down the pace of his fingers to allow you to come back down gradually. When you did, you locked eyes with him and released the hold you had on his hair.

Hongjoong rose to his feet and embraced you in a deep hug, his lips pressing against yours with the same intensity as before. And while you wanted to return the favor, all you could do was barely wrap your arms around him as you tried to gather yourself. You could taste yourself on his lips and that made your throbbing pussy twitch at the possibility of another round. Hongjoong pulled himself away with a content smile on his lips.

“You’re so fucking good, sweetness.”

This is a little out of nowhere and stating the obvious forgive me but I just wanna chat and add to the HoA brain trust on Tumblr

Sometimes I think about how Jason could’ve gotten some kind of tattoo to commemorate 9/11. Since he has at least two other tattoos incorporating things that are important to him (the US and the USMC). But he didn’t.

Instead of making it such a fixture and inking it somewhere on his skin, SMG had him draw it on a cap. Which draws people’s focus and showcases his thoughts to everyone, sure, but it’s something he can take off when he wants. Figuratively dressing himself up in chauvinism, putting on a superficial display of being there for an important cause. The cap being kinda worn-out also points to him using it often but maybe not taking good care of it, so he doesn’t hold it that dear. Plus, he repeats himself when Salim asks about it (”It’s a damn good reason. The only reason!”), which we learned earlier means he’s lying.

And I know it’s been said a lot already, but seriously, Paul Zinno did a flawless job as Jason. One time I watched a streamer play the game, and maybe a third into the game (before any serious revelations about Jason’s backstory/character) they mentioned how Jason sounds haunted, like with every sentence he says. That is just such an apt description imo.

...Also makes me wonder how much else I missed/am still missing.

The House

Located on the outskirts of Greenview Pass is a certain structure that I have identified as The House. One distinctive feature of The House is a single bright light emanating from within. Exposure to this light can lead to severe nausea, fatigue, and minor bleeding from the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, along with a tingling sensation in the limbs. Further examination suggests that this sensation may be due to rapid muscle degeneration. Below is a comprehensive log containing all pertinent information regarding The House.

7/19

I attempted to approach The House using a protective covering to shield myself from the light. Although unsuccessful, I did make an intriguing discovery. It appears that direct contact with the light is what causes harm, while observing it from a safe distance is harmless. Therefore, it may be possible for me to safely observe The House as long as I avoid direct exposure to the light.

7/22

Today, I observed music emanating from The House, characterized by a vintage and aged quality. It appears to be playing from either an old record player or radio. More information is required to analyze this phenomenon accurately. This is the first instance of sound coming from The House; could there be a presence residing there? If so, how do its occupants evade the light?

7/25

I have discovered two specific locations where The House appears to transition between. In an effort to understand its method of movement, I have deployed trail cameras at these sites. The transition between locations appears to occur almost instantaneously, with The House appearing to blink from one location to the next. Notably, there is a discrepancy in the lighting intensity between the two locations, which may present an opportunity for closer observation.

8/3

I have successfully made progress in my pursuit to access The House. Despite being able to approach closely enough to touch its door, I have encountered a setback as all potential entry points appear to be locked. There are no visible keyholes, making picking the lock an impractical strategy. I have, however, managed to ascertain the overall layout of The House, noting that it consists of a single room with doors on either side. The source of the mysterious music that can be heard within continues to puzzle me.

8/16

This phenomenon remains puzzling to me, as it appears that there are two distinct states of The House that it alternates between. When approaching The House in low lighting conditions, I have observed a window. Peering inside, the room appears vacant except for a few pictures displayed on the walls, giving it an abandoned appearance. A single light fixture is suspended in the center of the room. On the contrary, it is challenging to approach The House in brighter lighting conditions, although I have noticed that all exterior walls are solid with no visible windows.

8/17

The environment in The House seems unusually quiet today, and I am uncertain about the reason for this shift.

8/23

The House was not found in its anticipated locations today. Given that I am unaware of all possible destinations it may have traveled to, it is unclear if it has disappeared entirely or simply concealed itself in an unfamiliar location. In light of this, if it does not reappear promptly, I may initiate a search for it. The sudden absence of Entities such as this causes me some concern, as they typically do not vanish in this manner.

8/26

Today is a productive day as The House has reappeared in its usual location. Recognizing the potential for its disappearance once more, I took the opportunity to make another entry. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked, which was a notable and positive development. I was successful in capturing a photograph of the interior, which includes a hanging light fixture and the mentioned pictures from previous entries. Despite its abandoned and unassuming appearance, I remain intrigued by the fascinating nature of this Entity.

9/7

While I acknowledge the potential hazards, I am compelled to proceed with entering The House while there is ample light. I am aware that The House may exist in multiple states of being, and I have managed to capture documentation of one of them. I am currently making the necessary preparations, although I am cognizant that my mental resilience will be put to the test. I find the Entities intriguing as they exist beyond our conventional reality. Despite my admiration for them, I cannot deny that they evoke a sense of fear within me.

9/15

I regret to inform you that I am unable to provide detailed information about my observations of The House. This decision is based on concerns for both your well-being and my ability to articulate my experiences accurately. From what I have observed, The House appears to serve as a sort of portal, although I am still unclear on its full capabilities. While I am curious to explore further, I must refrain from entering The House again. I urge you to exercise caution if you come across The House and avoid entering out of curiosity. Do not enter The House.

As midnight struck on this warm summer's eve the sound of static rang out across the city. It was distracting, piercing, and so incessantly loud that it would have stirred almost anyone from their slumber. A hiss that sounded from each and every television for roughly thirty seconds, the sound and distorted display eventually cut out before each screen began to play something unusual.

It was a commercial for a multimedia project of some sort. A game? A television series? A collectable merch line? It was all of these things at once but the commercial was rather old-fashioned. Like something from the 90s.

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? PICK UP SPIRAMONSTERS TODAY!

The advertisement ended with this seemingly standard line and yet as it came to an end and regular programming returned, the quiet city came to life with surprise. At the side of every character that had been brought into the city from another world was a strange creature, one that embodied traits from the person they had appeared beside.

Their very own Spiramonster!

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

"Ofiuco... When you said you wanted to run a "social experiment" you never indicated you'd be creating this much data." One Star remarked to the android that sat before a wall of computer monitors that reflected their light off of her artificial eyes. Ofiuco did not reply immediately and instead continued to type, fingers moving at an inhuman pace as she finalized the programming.

When she finally finished she spun several times in her chair with a blank expression on her face. She was an eccentric young lady. "I just wanted to see how they reacted. This is a classic concept, isn't it? After all, they deserve to have fun once in a while too."

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

After a very confusing night caring for some very cryptic critters, at 7am the next morning some context was finally provided to the city by the way of another television broadcast featuring Ofiuco in a lab coat. "Welcome to the world of... Oh... I should avoid copying too much, shouldn't I? Um. As you all may have noticed you've each received a Spiramonsters. They are very much real. At least as real as you are."

"You'll be taking care of them for a short time. Raise them. Train them. Befriend them. Love them. But also you should partake in our Spiramonster Cup, known otherwise as The Challenger's Road. It would provide us with some very valuable data." She raised her hand and a map of the island appeared with various locations marked with star symbols. "There are challenges for your Spiramonsters to accomplish at these points. Complete one of the eight and we'll reward you. I pinky promise."

Was she not going to elaborate on that?

GENERAL OVERVIEW

Welcome to our twenty-fifth event, THE CHALLENGER'S PATH!

It's probably very obvious what inspired this event, but it was naturally drawn from the very popular monster collecting genre.

This event is the first of two new events that will be run over the summer. The second will run in August and will be connected in terms of story but will be a different kind of event entirely!

The event ends at 11:59:59PM EST on July 21st.

After the event ends any Spiramonsters created will lose their physical forms, however you will be able to preserve them in Spiragotchi devices you receive for completing a challenge (see: The Challenger's Road).

There are plans to make the monsters you create more permanent fixtures in the group, however this won't happen until the conclusion of the August event!

SPIRAMONSTER GUIDE

So what is a Spiramonster? It's a monster designed after the character that acts as their companion, possessing traits of the character that it has this close relationship with.

These means that a Spiramonster could share physical, personality, or ability traits with your character and we encourage you to design them with these things in mind, though you don't need to if you want to design something completely original!

Each Spiramonster can have up to five attacks that you can base on your muse's own abilities / personality / etc. For example: if your character was an idol you could make up music related abilities, or if your character has like super strength you could give them a strength related move.

Simply for comparison's sake, a Spiramonster cannot be stronger than your average Pokemon. It also cannot be any larger than a horse. You can model them after animals, machines, objects, whatever you'd like so long as you don't just make them little people.

On that note whether or not they can communicate in the human tongue is up to you!

Otherwise feel free to be as creative as you would like! You can describe them with words or if you feel up to it you can demonstrate how they look with other talents!

Feel free to name them whatever you'd like (so long as it's appropriate)!

You can give a copy of your own Spiramonster to a friend via an app that will appear on your character's phone. Whether you want to give it for free, after beating you in a battle, or for money or a favour is up to you though! You can only have a party of five Spiramonsters however!

You do not need to create a Spiramonster for event participation. However you must write with someone who has one and we do encourage it, because they will be relevant in the August event in some capacity.

THE CHALLENGER'S ROAD

Ofiuco mentioned the Spiramonster Cup, otherwise known as The Challenger's Road. So what is this?

A map has been included on everyone's phones that marks challenge locations on the island map. Go there to be given a challenge by one of the Stars or other bodies involved in the city project in the form of a projection.

The challenges will range in goals from battles, to obstacle courses, to treasure hunts; there's a great variety! You can find a list of these challenges here.

Complete one of these challenges either in five-hundred words (per participant) across one or multiple threads or in five-hundred word drabble to unlock 500 Stars and a Spiragotchi device that will allow you to take care of your Spiramonster in pocket form when the event ends!

You do not need to complete a challenge to get rank-up participation! Any post partaking in the event will do!

As always if you have any questions about the event do not hesitate to ask! We'll get back to you as soon as you can!

Getting Back Into the Swing of Things (extra!)

Or, You've fallen back in love with your ex (and his boyfriends, too!)

Ot7 x reader (fluff, a few years later, mentions of pregnancy and babies)

A/N: until I finish the next chapter of Ride With You, I'm gonna upload other stuff I had been working on <333

"Ah, honey, you're home!" Jin smiled widely at you from the kitchen, a bowl propped up on his hip. "I've made the most delicious foods for you, come sit at the counter." He said, gesturing to the shiny marble countertop. You smiled, taking a step towards him.

"But she can't eat without washing her hands!" Taehyung responded, beckoning you towards the bathroom. "Come wash your hands before you eat, dove." He called your attention towards him instead and you turned towards him, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Before you could even say a word, your attention was pulled into another direction, Hoseok taking your hand and spinning you towards soft chairs, making you giggle. "No, angel, come sit with me on the patio."

Namjoon heaved a big sigh, standing in the middle of all their childishness and rubbing the brow of his nose. His feet tapped against the stone flooring of the department store as he scolded them. "Boys, please, we're here to get lighting fixtures for the nursery, not to play house."

"But Joonie, you can't tell me this kitchen unit doesn't look incredible." Jin said, stepping out of the model kitchen display. "This color countertop would be perfect for our house, wouldn't it?" He stepped up to Namjoon, placing a hand on his shoulder, begging with his eyes for him to agree.

Namjoon leveled him with an unimpressed look. "You try to buy a new kitchen everytime we come to IKEA. We're here for one thing and one thing only."

"I don't know, I'm with Hoseok hyung on this one," Jungkook piped up, feet propped up on the low table as he reclined on the model patio set, getting comfy on the cushions like it was his own. "I think the baby would like a comfy patio couch."

"The baby won't even be able to sit for like, four months." Jimin scoffed. "Anyways, if we're taking anything, I think it should be this rocking chair. Look at how comfy it is!" He practically melted into the chair, sinking into the soft pillows.

"We already have a rocking chair. You picked it out yourself. We don't need another rocking chair." Namjoon stated, trying his best to keep from going home with twenty more things the house didn't need.

"I think we definitely need more paint." Taehyung said, finally done messing around with the fake bathroom. "The mural we're painting is bigger than we thought, and we're low on forest green."

"Alright, you guys go get more paint, and only paint, and me, Jin, and Yoongi..." Namjoon spun in a circle. "Where's Yoongi?"

"I can go look for him," you piped up. Immediately, the boys were shaking their heads, Jungkook motioning for you join him on the patio couch.

"You shouldn't be doing too much walking, bunny, you'll put too much stress on your ankles." He chided, taking your hands and pressing kisses to your knuckles.

You stayed standing, however, rolling your eyes. "I'll be fine. I've barely done any walking in the last couple months. The store isn't that big, and I'll sit once we get home."

"Still, you shouldn't go on your own." Jimin frowned in concern, hands raising to hold your hips, one moving up to rub your belly. It hadn't been long since you started showing but it was quickly becoming obvious. You'd been holding back on buying too many maternity clothes so early, though the boys seemed bent on buying you a whole wardrobe's worth. The sundress you were wearing mostly concealed your bump, but your loves seemed to focus on it no matter what you wore.

"Once I find Yoongi, I won't be alone." You argued back playfully. You pecked him on the lips and pulled away from him while he was stunned. That was something you loved, that even after dating all these years, you could still kiss them and they would react like it was the first time. "Good luck finding light fixtures!" You chirped, practically skipping away down the aisles before they could chase after you.

You strolled down the halls, idly humming and rubbing your belly, looking at all the things being sold. It was crazy how there were so many items in each unit, it was like everything someone could ever want in a room was here. Wall mounted decorations, various rugs, you even saw small garden fountains in their outdoor section. You had to keep yourself from going and just watching the water drip, the serenity would keep you trapped for hours.

Where was Yoongi? You wondered, walking around and turning corner after corner, no sign of him. He had been very hands on in the construction of the baby's room, so you figured the hardware or electrical sections would be his most likely location. But he wasn't there, and considering the other boys weren't in the lighting aisle either, you guessed they had gotten distracted again on the way there.

Giggling to yourself, you continued on. Maybe Yoongi was by the baby furniture, where the cribs and mobiles were, he had gotten pretty hands on with the crib, insisting on making one himself, but you didn't find him there either, just more things you added to your mental wishlist.

You were quickly becoming unsure of where he was and you considered going to find the other guys and giving up, or even just calling Yoongi, but you kept going, checking one more aisle.

And there he was, by the IKEA stuffed sharks. You sighed in relief upon seeing him, shaking your head with a smile. "And I thought you were staying on task." You teased, walking up to him.

He didn't turn around to look at you as you walked towards him, just wrapping an arm around your waist when you stood next to him. His eyes were fixed on the plastic ones of the IKEA shark's, as if it was telling him something telepathically.

"Do you think she would like a shark?" He said, quietly.

You smiled widely, thinking of your baby in her crib with a stuffed shark's three times her size. "I think she would love it." You responded just as softly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. "But then again, she'll probably love anything until she's about two or three. Then she'll develop her own personality and likes and interests."

He let out a small puff of air, a sound you had come to recognize as his way of chuckling. "When you say like that, it feels like it'll go by so fast." He murmured.

"It might," You shrugged. "Or maybe it'll be a crawl. Or a combination of both. Either way we'll be doing it together." You turned your face up towards him, and he turned to look at you finally, mirroring the same soft look in your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand moving to cup your stomach. "Do you think we could have one?"

"A baby? We are having one."

"No, I know, but I mean like..." he stopped, choosing his words carefully. "One thats ours. One that looks like you and me."

"You have a long line," you chuckled, thinking of how the others had wanted the same thing. "Taehyung keeps saying, 'when we have a baby' this and 'our baby' that. And Jin is already planning to add more rooms to the house."

"I can wait." He smiled, his cheeks and eyes soft.

"Then yes, I think we can have one." You nodded, picking up a shark. "Eventually." You tucked the shark under your arm, taking your phone to call the guys and see if they were ready to leave. Yoongi took the shark from you and held your free hand, walking you towards the front. You looked up at him and smiled, phone to your ear as you listened to the dial tone. You had been surrounded with nothing but love for so long and were soon going to share it with another loving being, one growing in your belly. Sometimes you worried you would mess up somehow.

Hoseok picked up the phone, loud laughter coming through the line as they messed around wherever in the store they were. "Everything okay, angel?" He said, immediately worring over you. Even the sound of his voice coming through the phone reassured something deep in your soul along with the laughter of your loves. You knew that no matter what you'd be fine.

Because you were with them.

--

Taglist: @sunshinehobissunshine @pb-n-juju @bunnyrhe @7soulsbts @tinyoonsblog @royalchickens @urvirtualgfteehee @tazzi-baby @deathincarnation @alngelias @not-all-are-the-same @btsizlyfe @justsomoneliving @purplelady85 @just-me-and-myselfs @thinkaholicer @kookstempo @kosmicbomb @squishyturtle @fuckinglittlekitten @canarystwin @scuzmunkie @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @sugarrush-blush @bt21chim @maries110911 @bjoriis @creatorspalace @highinhopess @little-dark-empress @onlythebest-106 @cestlabellemort @rapunzel76 @kamen-tenshi @totallynoanalien @singukieee @gingerupset @sunshinee0-0 @avadakadabra93 @lvrseok @musicismyoxygen @missinggot7 @silscintilla @jcrml @embrace-themagic

Don't Look Back || K.JM

† genre: horror

† word count: 2.7k

† warnings: automatonophobia, liminal spaces/warped reality, explicit death scene

† synopsis: one of these mannequins is out of place...

† (a/n): third installment of my spooktober anthology event, but ironically the first story I actually finished! this one is based on this mannequin game I played once where you were being chased by mannequins. at first it was creepy, but as it dragged on, it got kinda funny lol. this one does not get funny ☺️

† taglist: @scuzmunkie @hipsdofangirl @hydroyaksha

anthology | main masterlist

Working in retail is hell on earth, but it's not so bad when you have your best friend to suffer alongside you. Shenanigans between tasks, shared breaks for lunch dates at the food court, inside jokes to keep you going through the shift. One inside joke in particular was in regards to a certain mannequin in the men's section.

"Why is he… hot?" Jennifer asked as the two folded clothes on a shelf situated before said mannequin. (y/n) looked up at the mannequin towering over them, wearing the articles of clothing they were currently dealing with, prompting her to snort at the commentary.

"Only you would point out a mannequin's physical attributes."

"No, I'm serious!" Jennifer pushed in her defense, chuckles bubbling out by the end of her sentence. She raised a hand to the man as she began passionately explaining herself. "He has gentle eyes, and the classic Disney prince smolder! And his hair!"

"It's all painted on!" (y/n) couldn't stop laughing along with her friend, who only seemed to grow even more offended with the ongoing dismissal of her newfound beau.

"You're telling me you've never found a painting so beautiful that it keeps you awake all night thinking about it?" At this interjection, (y/n) grew quiet, knowing she's done exactly that and Jennifer knows that just as well as she does. Nevertheless, (y/n) continued her folding with a dismissive grumble, Jennifer giggling to herself as she did the same.

(y/n) spared a few glances to the mannequin, acknowledging the details Jennifer highlighted. The soft, faded brown of his round painted eyes, the chiseled molding of each of his strong features, the almost Adonis like creation of this seemingly out of place mannequin.

The store was older with a variety of mannequins. Blank ones of varying poses, delicate ones with makeup styles straight from certain decades, many of which were broken or dilapidated in a way. The mannequins on display were, of course, the most put together of the bunch, and this included the mannequin perched atop this men's shirt display.

Since that day, the two would continuously tease each other about him. Snapping photos of him as they pass by to send to the other, faux discussing a boy they met only to reveal it was the mannequin the entire time, or merely the subtle winks and glances that fully conveyed their jesting intentions.

Nevertheless, the mannequin, of which the girls had affectionately nicknamed Suho, remained a permanent fixture of the store, even during remodeling. Instead of tucked away at the back in the men's section, he now stood on a display only a mere few feet in front of the cash registers, facing out towards the customers. With his back facing them, it prompted a few more jokes out of Jennifer, easy bait that they both knew was practically handed to them on a silver platter, but still as funny as ever.

"Hey, are you okay manning the station on your own?" Jennifer asked, nervously glancing up from her phone.

"Of course. Why? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, my mom's car broke down on the highway." She sighed, shooting another text from her phone before looking back to (y/n).

"That's tough. Go ahead, I'll be okay."

"Thank you. I seriously owe you one!" With that, she ran off to the back of the store, leaving (y/n) on her own at the register.

She really did mean it when she said she'd be alright. With only about a half hour left until closing time, and with only a handful more customers remaining, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

The air was stuffy and the fluorescent lights above were somewhat irritating. A monotonous pop song that has played about a hundred times today alone droned distantly from the speakers, and without her friend to drown it out, (y/n) was beginning to lose herself to the elements of the store.

Discreetly out of the corner of her eye, she could see an old woman, bundled up in a dense purple cardigan, carding through the rack of dresses. As far as (y/n) was aware, this was the last customer, and she highly doubted she'd be buying anything from that selection.

She drummed her fingers along the counter, eyes getting lost in its beige void, waiting for her day to end so she could leave this long and tedious shift. Beyond the grainy ambience of the playlist, she listened to the metallic screech of hanger against bar as the woman pushed aside each article of clothing.

Screech.

Screech.

Screech.

It was a cycle of monotony encircling (y/n), in which every element blended together in a jarring cacophony of noise. The woman with her hangers, the next pop song starting up, the low hum of the fluorescent lights above.

But between all of this, an element of surprise somehow managed to slip into the mix. A scrape which sounded so distinct, yet something (y/n) could not pinpoint. It grated upon her ears however, drawing a grimace out of her that had (y/n) immediately glancing up to survey the woman again.

Instead, what she was met with was Suho. More specifically, Suho now fully facing her.

She felt her stomach drop at the sight before her, her jaw falling in a silent gasp as he now faced the cash registers. The positioning of his limbs were all the same, that lifeless and distant stare still directed aimlessly forward.

He was just… turned around.

There was no one here. No one to have moved him at that very moment. The thought rattled her brain, hopelessly attempting to conjure some reason to the almost supernatural display before her, but nothing came to mind. No explanation as to how Suho could have moved.

"Excuse me," a voice startled (y/n) out of her stupor, redirecting her to the customer awaiting service. The old woman. She had chosen her dress.

(y/n) had quickly rung her up, bidding her a good night and thus being condemned once more to a bout of solitude. The fluorescent lights still pulsed above her, the next pop song now well into its playthrough, and Suho was still very much so facing her.

The moment her phone had indicated closing time, (y/n) all but rushed out of the cash register nook, not daring to look back at Suho. She had instead opted to retrieve her phone, quickly texting Jennifer the freaky encounter she'd just had. Though before she could make it very far, however, she patted her pockets, realizing her keys were not there.

In a brief moment of panic, she patted her other pocket, worry shooting through her as she was sure she just had them. That must mean they were dropped by the registers or something.

She sighed, turning around to retrace her steps, though stopping immediately as she stared down the walkway of the store.

In regards to the general layout of the store, carpeted sections of varying genres surrounded the reflective ceramic tiled pathways. Men's section, women's section, children's section. And among those sections were, of course, mannequins. So many mannequins. Mannequins which usually stared forward with a blank canvas of a face.

They do not usually crane their necks to stare at the exact spot you stand in—though that's the reality (y/n) met when she turned around.

Every mannequin in her general vicinity stared at her with those barren faces of theirs, heads all turned in her direction no matter where they stood. The sight had her entire body leap with fright, a brief yelp of shock expelling from her lips as she was greeted by such a sight.

(y/n) took a tentative step forward, eyes nervously bouncing from one figure to the next, monitoring for any movement of the sort, looking out for that telltale scrape of their porcelain-like joints shifting. Yet as she reached the end of the aisle, there was nothing of the sort. No change. They remained staring at the spot she once stood, and as she turned the corner to head back to the register, she felt silly for even toying with the idea of mannequins moving.

As she arrived to the registers, she began rummaging through the various hideaways she could find, coming up empty. The counters were spotless and the drawers contained their usual miscellaneous items tossed in over the years. She began considering other locations to check, and while she stood there in her own thoughts, her eyes naturally wandered up and ahead of her to where Suho usually stood.

Except now, there was no Suho.

(y/n) froze for the umpteenth time tonight, though only for a moment before she rushed over to the now barren spot. And where Suho once stood, there lay her keys, abandoned on his pedestal with no sign of the mannequin.

Without sparing another thought, (y/n) grabbed her keys and booked it for the backroom. Her feet slammed against the tiles beneath here, breath already heaving as she barreled down the long aisle of mannequins whom she ignored at all costs. She didn't care where they were looking. She didn't care if they were even still sitting there. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there as soon as humanly possible.

She yanked open the door to the backrooms. The walkways between the different storage areas and facilities of the store, and the only way to get to the back where she was parked. The fluorescent lighting here was more sparse than that of the store inside, bringing a repetitive pattern of lit spots alongside dimmed ones down the gray walled corridors which seemed to stretch as far as the eye can see.

Why was the corridor so long? Was it always this long?

Why was she out of breath? How long has she been running down this corridor?

She suddenly came tumbling to the floor, gasping as her body collapsed onto the concrete floors of the backrooms. She lay there for a moment in shock, gasping for air, wincing at the scrapes now lining her hands and forearms. A grimace slipped out of her as she pushed herself up, the sound of her weak voice reverberating off the endless labyrinth she had found herself in.

There was only the sound of her huffing and puffing as she attempted to regain herself. And then there was a sound of porcelain dragging against the floor.

With a gasp, (y/n) whirled around. He was a distance away, though still as clear as day. Standing beneath one of the fluorescent light fixtures from above.

Suho.

His expression was unchanged, as was his pose. He just… stood there. Staring at her. Yet even with his painted, stoic face, (y/n) could feel… contempt. Disdain. Like he meant her harm, and would do so at all costs.

She whimpered beneath his glower and quickly staggered to her feet, turning around to keep running down the corridor, though the moment she had stopped looking at him, the sound returned. And when she looked back at him, he was in the ray of darkness between the light he had just stood in and that of the next.

He was approaching her.

A sense of dread washed over her as the realization struck, and hot tears began pouring down her face in endless streams. With one last ditch effort, (y/n) turned and dashed down the corridor, arms swinging rapidly back and forth as her numb legs carried her as quickly as they could, purely fueled off the adrenaline which coursed through her feeble body. Blood pumped through her ears, and the sound of her pulse and her labored breathing masked whatever sounds may have transpired behind her.

She couldn't turn back. She knew turning back was certain death. And at this point, she realized that something was wrong with her surroundings. Something was wrong with the corridor. But there was no time to dwell. There was no time to rest. The moment she stopped running would be her final moment alive.

As if a miracle, the door to the outside finally came into her vision, right at the end of the corridor as it usually is. A smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she booked it for the exit, slamming her body into the dense slab of metal, though screaming in agony as she was met with resistance. She pushed again, pressing at the release, yet it didn't budge.

A screech tore at her throat, fear and rage broiling within her as she repeatedly slammed her fists at the door, begging for anyone to perhaps hear her desperation—her final moments. Yet as the sounds of her yells fizzled into that of sobs, she knew there was nothing more to be done.

In the suffocating silence of the dimly lit corridor, she found herself weakly sliding down the door, trembling breaths and quiet tears coming out shallow and broken. She had hit a deadend, and there was no way of escape. No hope left in her to even believe in any righteous intervention of the sort.

The scraping sound of porcelain drew nearer, and she finally looked up at what was coming for her.

He dragged himself forward, gliding across the cement in a smooth and unhindered manner. His lifeless eyes and unnerving smile continued to penetrate forward, straight ahead at the door, and somehow the lack of attention directly on her struck more terror into her. Inch by inch, he drew closer and closer, fading in and out of the beams of light until he had finally reached the patch of light directly before he'd be where she stood.

And then he stopped. He stood there. Unmoving.

(y/n) felt her hands scrambling for something, reaching out as far as she could from where she lay, hoping to find something she could as a weapon. Though she came up empty with only her set of keys trembling in her hands. She clutched them between her fingers, each key protruding forth like a set of claws, and she cradled her only defense to her chest, waiting for his next move.

It had grown deathly silent for moment, her breath hitched at her throat, and she quaked upon herself in whole body tremors.

Then his finger twitched. A sickening crack like breaking bones, yet he remained perfectly intact. Merely his finger was in a different position. And then his hand. And then his arm. Each followed by that resounding snap as he shifted in a broken and robotic manner. She watched with bated breath and trembling gasps as Suho began ambling forward once more in this terrifyingly decrepit manner, limbs contorting all while those cracks continued to resonate in the atmosphere surrounding her.

Her heart pounded hopelessly against her chest, utter fear squeezing at her throat with a vice like grip. There was no way of escaping. No way to evade the sinister presence creeping towards her with this impenetrable persistence.

As Suho drew nearer, this unsettling sensation washed over, as if the air around her had grown thick with pure malevolence all but emanating off him, suffocating her with endless dread and despair. She felt a presence unlike anything she'd felt before. Something more than just the lifeless form that stood before her.

Suho stood where her feet lay, limbs still jerking sporadically. And in the midst of these jolts, his head finally snapped down to where she lay, prompting her to press even further into the door. A loud and fearful gasp ripped out of (y/n) as Suho collapsed onto his knees, crawling up her body on all fours as she all but begged for mercy—desperate and incomprehensible mumbles while her trembling hands which gripped her keys fell limply to her side.

The cold, icy touch of his porcelain fingers grazed her hot skin, stretching along the planes of her neck, light as they encircled her throat before suddenly clenching with a furious might. Panic suddenly encompassed her as her airways became obstructed, her hands flailing up and grasping at his arms, nails scraping against him, though sliding off with no effect whatsoever. Meanwhile, his fingers constricted against her throat, their stone-like surface burrowing into her skin and drawing warm blood which trickled down her body as black spots began blurring her vision.

His force was unrelenting, all the while staring down at her with those soft brown painted eyes and that charming smiling, the last sight she saw before she finally faded away.

Making Fun of Rich People Round 2

This one's a little bit different. This house is in Arizona, listed for a clean 20 mil, eight bedrooms ten baths, 16,000 square feet. The outside is really nothing special, looks like every other southwestern wanna-be movie star mansion so let's

Kicking things off with a bang.

You know. I can't even say anything bad about this. Like, the other house, they were people who clearly had more money than taste and built their house as a shrine to their bank accounts. It was not meant to live in, but to prove their wealth. It was ridiculous and stupid and they deserved to be made fun of.

These people. These people know their house is ugly. They know that table was an obscene waste of money. They know that couch screams "my coke dealer was redecorating." They do not care. They love bringing people in and watching their expressions of horror. They rub their hands together gleefully as people try to think of a compliment that isn't too obviously pulled out of their ass.

I mean, come on. That green chandelier, they're absolutely trolling us.

And I'm going to be honest, this looks like a living room I'd actually feel comfortable hanging out in. I can see someone on that couch eating ice cream out of the carton at 3 AM. People sit on that rug and play board games on that table. These people furnished their house to live in, not to display.

I am still going to tease them about it, however.

I'm laughing with them, not at them.

Is it just the angle or does that bed seem super short?

I...don't even know what I'm looking at here. I think this is the closet?

No, okay, they have a whole mall outlet store in here. This is like that one scene in Princess Diaries 2 except Julie Andrews would politely show herself out.

Why the marble. Why do you need a sitting area in your closet.

I will admit, I'm disappointed that the owner of such an interesting house has this many black pumps. I get that they go with everything, but-that's the point. They're universal. You don't need over a dozen of them. I expected better shoes.

Nobody:

Rich People: "make the bathroom...ROUND."

fr, their insanity always seems to come out full-force in the bathroom. I legitimately think rich people might not poop or bathe, because it's always some crazy shit that would be incredibly uncomfortable or downright impossible to use.

Another thing I've noticed, rich people all seem to want bathroom doors that open to the outside. Why?!

Especially when this is the outside they're opening up to!

Seriously, what is the point of this?! You're buck naked and decide to go have a smoke next to some cactuses and your giant patio geode. That's all that's out here. Why. Why.

Actually, it looks like there's little paths, which...just makes this worse, honestly. Imagine you're taking a leisurely stroll through the cactus garden and you pass your parents' bathroom patio, getting a full view of your mom taking a bath through the floor-length windows.

"Yes, in our dining hall with the light fixture that looks like birthday sparklers and our collection of Totally Real cactuses."

I've seen designers rag on those unfinished wood tables before, and while I didn't really agree with them at the time I kind of do now. I think this would look cool as like, a side table or accent table, but on a dining table it's just kind of awkward.

This is the same room, they just kept panning out.

While I made fun of the other house for their grand piano, I have no doubt that someone in this family is a drug-fueled musician. This room looks mega-comfy to lay back and watch a movie in, and I love the sheep.

I'm just...in awe of the audacity.

They didn't even try to match. Didn't even pretend like they cared. And I'm not gonna lie, the red countertop is doing something for me.

"When we want the bugs to join us for dinner."

I can't stress this enough, they have multiple patio sets.

See, the last people didn't show off all their alcohol at their bar because they thought it looked more refined not to. These guys probably have art supplies tucked away in their bar just to keep you on your toes. (they don't need a bar, these are the kind of people who carry flasks around with them)

So like...objectively, this bathroom is hideous. It's way too much, the feather thing is ridiculous, that cabinet is ugly as sin.

But I kind of love it?

Just a reminder: this is in Arizona.

...I have nothing to say here.

WHAT IS UP WITH RICH PEOPLE AND THEIR UGLY BATHROOMS?!

Again with the doorway to the outside! And I see this a lot, but so many rich people bathrooms don't have storage spaces?! Like, look at those sinks. What.

More to my theory that rich people don't have any need for bathrooms.

This is the bedroom I wanted as a thirteen-year-old and just now realized I still do.

THE WALLPAPER IS EVEN BIRBS!

Like, I can't even make fun of this. I am just in awe. This entire house looks if sixth grade me had access to the Sims 3 Create-A-Style and the motherlode cheat, and I honestly love that for them. I hope these people find a new house to be extremely fucking cool in.

Leaving with these calming lemons in the backyard! Pay no attention to all the bathrooms that open up directly to the garden.

on the subject of abstract horror, one of my absolute favorite moments in kentucky route zero is finding the church in act 1. it's an optional location you can find on the map off of Morgantown Road.

(Conway stops the truck)

'A singing chorus echoes from within the church. The building is one story tall with a pitched roof, and a three story spire rising from the front. The top section of the spire is made of stained glass. An interior light illuminates the pines in red, green and blue.'

(you can hear a muffled sermon at this point coming from inside, what sounds like a small choir singing. it is well past midnight)

'A large LED display glows in the parking lot:

"LIGHT OF THE LAST GREAT AWAKENING BAPTIST CHURCH"

Enter the church.

Listen.

Drive away'

[you listen.]

'Conway stands and listens to the chorus.

The muffled chorus drones at a steady volume, repeating the same two verses without rest.

Enter the church.

Listen.

Drive away.'

[you enter the church]

'Conway approaches the Church doors.

The front doors of the church are modest and worn. They are locked.

Walk around the rear of the building.

Listen.

Drive away.'

[you walk around the rear of the building]

'Conway walks to the rear of the building.

A ramp leads up from a few dusty metal trash cans to the church's back door.

Look in the trash cans.

Enter the church's back door.

Go back to the front of the building.'

[you look in the trash cans]

'Conway opens a few of the trash cans and looks in.

One has a bit of something leafy and rotten stuck to the bottom of it. Another is full of unlabeled videotapes.

Look in the trash cans.

Enter the church's back door.

Go back to the front of the building.'

[you enter the church's back door]

'Conway pushes open the back door.

He finds himself in a kitchen lit by a buzzing fluorescent ceiling fixture. On the counter are a plate of moldy bread and an empty dixie cup flecked red around its waxy rim. A set of swinging plastic doors on the far wall lead out of the kitchen.

Walk through the plastic doors.

Walk back outside.'

[you walk through the plastic doors]

(what was an echoing sound of people reverently singing is abruptly changed to the scratchy warped tin of a cassette playing as you enter)

'Conway pushes through the plastic doors and walks through.

Vacant pews sprawl unevenly into the church. A small raised stage lies to Conway's right, bare except for a tape recorder.

The tape recorder's power cord runs to an outlet near Conway's feet.

Unplug the tape recorder.

Go back to the kitchen.'

[you unplug the tape recorder]

(you hear the warped pull of the power cutting the tape)

'Conway unplugs the tape recorder.

The singing stops. The lights fail.'

---x---

Happy holidays! I hope you all have a good day and you each have a wonderful time! Thank you to all of my mutuals and I hope you have fun this winter! -

🎄 THE SQ CREW REACT TO CHRISTMAS 🎄

– The grunts so far have visited you for about 2 straight months to participate in the holidays. So far, every holiday they got to experience was unique and different in their own ways. Both involve decorating and seem to hold onto a value that humans deem essential for celebrating. Halloween was filled with sweets, scares, costumes, and joy. Thanksgiving was about feasting and being grateful for people and things that were in your life. Each one about giving or being thankful or having fun…which was more than sparse in Nevada. Grunts barely had any holidays, with the exception of Madness Day, which was just a yearly marker to tally up another year under the reign of the madness. Human holidays were much more positive and friendly and they each had to thank their Player for inviting them all to visit for the holidays. It was like a miniature vacation back to some form of normalcy before they all returned to Nevada to start the cycle all over again. It was peaceful and fun to visit their Player. Every holiday so far has been a great experience for the grunts to witness and participate in. But the other holidays didn’t seem to compare to the “final holiday” that humans, like their precious Player, celebrate. The group was told by their Player to come to their home on the specific date of the 25th of December and to arrive early. To which Doc had noted that down and made sure to keep track of it. It had piqued all of their interest since you seemed very excited for that date to arrive. Pretty soon, it did and the group set up the portal and made their move to head over to the Player’s abode, each member silently wondering what the Player had in store for them for this supposed “big finale” to the year. - HANK - Upon entering the portal to the Player’s realm, Hank was immediately enthralled by the decor that his Player had laid out in their living room to welcome the members. Hank blinks from behind his red goggles as the sheer beauty of the room assaults his vision. The room had changed once more. Unlike the fall decor that the group had gotten used to on their last two visits, this time it was different. Like…REALLY different. The fireplace that was in the living room was illuminated with a fire roaring inside the hearth and the hearth itself was decorated with five colorful large socks that were embroidered with their names. There was a smell of something sweet and savory in the air and the sound of some muffled cheery music could be heard playing from somewhere in the home. There were twinkling lights decorated all around the room on green garlands, ribbons hanging from fixtures, illuminated knick knacks that appeared to be winter themed, and the most obvious (and arguably the most beautiful) decoration was the tree that was decorated from top to bottom. The white lights all sparkled and glittered as the decorations hung off the branches, bows and ribbons were weaved through the foliage, and the bright star that topped the tree shined like a beacon. But that also wasn’t just the only thing that caught Hank’s gaze. Underneath the beautiful tree were numerous boxes that were wrapped up in colorful paper and sparkling bows. Each of them with a label that had the designated recipient displayed. Even from his place at the entrance to the Player’s home, he could see there were so many that were marked for him…and Hank couldn’t help but be curious as he walked over and investigated the tree and presents much more closely. The others also spread out to investigate the newly decorated household, as Hank watches them partially as he takes note of the stuffed stockings, numerous gifts under the tree, and just the look of the room entirely. Especially the presents that were intended for him. Hank was more than curious about what could possibly be in the box that his Player got for him…and he swears he can feel something bubbling up in the depths of his chest in response. It was so strange to him since he usually only gets this feeling when he’s on a mission or killing grunts. What was it…it was similar to the adrenaline rushes he would get…then he realizes. Was he…excited? That was quite a revelation. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise. He was getting gifts from his PLAYER after all. Why wouldn’t he be excited? Hank then takes notice of you leaning into the living room from the kitchen doorway before smiling and welcoming all of the crew into your home. Hank takes notice of your outfit that seemed to be colored with red, greens, and white. You were even wearing a drooping red hat with fuzzy trimmings for some reason. But he wasn’t one to care for details. You still looked stunning in his eyes. Hank eventually snaps out of his staring when you walk out of the kitchen with a plate of something to give out to your visitors. Upon inspecting it with the others, he was surprised to find that you had made cookies that were all lookalikes of all the members of SQ, including Hank. Each cookie is carefully iced to look just like the one they represent. “I hope you all like them! They took a while to make and I wanted them to be just perfect.” He hears the Player explain as he picks up a cookie of Deimos and lowers his mask to bite the head off of it. Much to Deimos’s chagrin. It was really tasty. Hank then throws the rest of the cookie into his mouth before covering up and munching on it as he listens to his Player announcing that today was “Christmas” and they got all of the SQ members gifts. The first thing they were going to do was open gifts and have fun. The others, with a much more controlled 2B, thank the Player for their generosity as they merely wave them off and encourage them all to gather around the living room. Hank takes a seat with the others as you pass out gifts that had their names on them. Hank gets gifts of various sizes, but an equal amount was spread out among the members. Each of them getting an equal amount of presents. Once all the presents were passed out, each of them began to open their gifts. With the exception of Deimos, as he was already impatiently ripping the wrapping off of one of his gifts. Hank watches the others for a bit before he finally decides to open his own gifts. The first one he was holding is quickly ripped open and he is delighted to find a box that advertised a blender on the inside. He places it in his own pile of opened gifts and continues to rip his wrapping off. Now growing more and more visibly excited as more gifts are revealed. Each gift was fitted to his interest of murder and fighting, except one that he found very interesting. It was a strange large cube-like device that he didn’t understand the purpose of until his Player helped him understand that it was a stimulation cube, also known as a “fidget cube”. Then, it quickly became a favorite as he messes with it idly. Hank enjoyed all of the gifts that his Player gifted to him unconditionally. You could’ve given him a pair of socks and he still would’ve enjoyed them. So while the others were having fun with their own gifts, Hank found himself staring at his Player. While he did enjoy the presents and the holiday, he still argues that the best gift that all of SQ ever got was you. Their Player. And Hank would kill all those that would say otherwise. - DEIMOS AND SANFORD - The pair was quickly assaulted by the visuals upon entering the Player’s home. But once they adjusted to the brightness of the lights, the pair were quick to appreciate the sheer amount of beauty that your home was radiating. All of this work must’ve taken a long time to put together and the pair find themselves exploring the surroundings and admiring each of the unique items. From the stockings that were filled with sweets to the snow globes that shimmered and sparkled with every shake they made. But they also had to agree that the most beautiful decoration in the whole room was the tree that was sitting in the corner. The pair watch Hank investigate the tree from a ways away as Doc walks along the edge of the room and admires the details of the decorations. Meanwhile, both Sanford and Deimos sniff the air and have pleasant flashbacks to Thanksgiving. There was just simply a pleasant smell in the air that made both of their mouths water and they were about to investigate the kitchen before they took notice of their Player peeking into the living room before smiling and waving at both of them. To which they returned whole-heartedly. “Hey fellas! I’m so glad you could make it!” They hear their Player say joyously as they come into the living room holding a plate of sweets. Deimos lets out a low whistle as the two mercenaries take in the holiday outfit that their Player is wearing. To which Sanford nudges Deimos roughly before you approach them. “Do you two like cookies? I made some today! Fresh out of the oven!” You cheerily say and the two nodded eagerly. “Hell yes!!” Deimos cheers instantly as he picks up a Hank, in revenge for watching Hank bite the head off of a cookie-Deimos, and happily munches on it. (Especially in front of Hank, who didn’t even care.) “They look delicious, Player. Thank you.” Sanford calmly responds before picking up a cookie-Sanford and munching on it. The two listen in as you announce what your plans were for today as the two watch your elegant form smile brightly at the group and they couldn’t help the feeling of their hearts palpitating as they see you excitedly ramble about your ideas for today. You were such a bright light in the dark uncertainty of their lives…how could they ever find another being just like you anywhere else? Then, you announce it was present time and Deimos was more than eager to begin. Once settled in their designated spots, the presents began to get handed out. 

Sanford had to reel Deimos in on occasion when he was getting a little impatient with getting his presents, but once Deimos received his first gift, the wrapping was obliterated in seconds. Causing his partner to roll his eyes in a tired manner. Sanford was much more patient by comparison, silently waiting for his gifts to be delivered before graciously accepting them and setting them into his own pile. 

Pretty soon, the two of them received their gifts and Deimos was happily tearing into each and every single one of them.

Sanford was equally as excited, but much more manageable. As he tears the packaging off with a bit more grace and was delighted to find presents that fitted his needs and personality on the inside. Same with Deimos, who always cheered when he opened his presents.

Once the presents were opened, each of the two mercenaries began to fiddle and practice with them. Each admiring and appreciating how thoughtful you were about their respective interests and preferred techniques.

They also take moments out of their time playing with their new “toys” to stare at their generous Player. Each one letting out their own respective sigh, both knowing what the other was feeling at that moment in time.

How did the SQ deserve such a person like you?

You were so kind, thoughtful, generous, and sweet…

None of the gifts they received today even compared to you. You were not only the best thing that had ever happened to each of them, you were the best thing that ever happened in Nevada.

They had so many things to be gracious for and you’re obviously at the top of the list.

- DOC -

The moment Doc had followed the others through the portal to the Player’s Dimension, he was also visually assaulted by the stimulating light show that made up your living room. It never failed to surprise him how many decorations that humans tend to have for their numerous holidays. First it was Halloween, then it was Thanksgiving, and now it’s this holiday too…humans must have a thing for decorating their homes.

He has to admit, however…the decorations were rather nice to see such colors and luminous decorations strewn about the abode.

While Hank was investigating the tree and Sanford and Deimos were eying up the glowing snow globes that lined the mantle of the fireplace, Doc decided to look at the decorations that covered the wall.

He never really took the time to fully analyze your home, but seeing the various pictures you all took together hanging up on the walls of your home in seasonal themed frames just seemed to make Doc feel a little warmer inside.

Especially if he stared at the images and reminisced about the memories that were associated with the photo.

Like the one where you took a photo of them sledding for the first time in the snow. Or the time they all came out to visit you on your birthday. His favorite is still the photo you all took once you all met in reality for the first time.

It was such a valuable core memory that shaped your relationship with the Nevadeans, Doc couldn’t help but smile when he stared at the framed picture for a long time.

The sound of your voice snaps him out of it, though.

Upon looking towards the entrance that led to the kitchen, he finds you standing there smiling at Sanford and Deimos and waving to Hank. All dressed up in a similarly themed outfit that gave off a similar aura as the decorations that lined your home.

The reds, greens, and whites in your outfit, along with the red hat with a white trim and ball, seemed to give Doc the impression that you were being festive.

He also had to admit…that outfit did make you look stunning.

He was shaken out of his mental mindscape by you offering him a plate of sweets.

“Hey Doc! I’m glad you could make it and I hope you’re enjoying the decorations! Would you like a cookie? I made them myself!” You beam.

Doc suppresses a flustered blush as he nods and picks up a cookie version of himself.

“I would. Thank you, Player.” He says in a professional manner, drawing a light laugh out of you in response.

“No problem, Doc. It’s almost time to unwrap your presents! Pick a seat and we’ll start handing the gifts out!” You say cheerily before setting the plates down and moving over to where the tree was.

It was at that time that Doc had taken notice of all the gifts underneath the tree. It was shocking to see so many gifts of various shapes and sizes…and it was all for the members of his crew? Humans are so generous, it’s genuinely baffling to him.

Regardless, he does what you asked him to do and he nestles himself into a nice recliner. Enjoying the support on his back and the peaceful setting of just watching his crew eagerly wait for their presents.

One by one, presents are handed out to the members of the crew as Doc looks on and piles his up next to the chair. Deimos was already tearing into his gifts like a child and Sanford was slowly getting swept up in his own enthusiasm once the gifts started to appear. Hank was simply sitting off to the side nearest to the tree, sitting over his presents like a dragon guarding its hoard.

The atmosphere that filled the house was quickly growing brighter and much more lively as the gifts were being opened by the mercenaries as Doc simply looked on.

Finally, he started opening his and he discovered his presents would be very useful to him in the long run while in Nevada.

One of which was a new laptop and tablet, which would help with his dispatching and hacking capabilities. Especially since it seemed to be much more powerful and a newer model compared to the rundown one he had back in Nevada.

“I hope you like them…”

Your voice ringing out next to him draws his attention as the Player was sitting near him on the couch not too far away.

“I didn’t know what you would’ve needed. So I decided to get you things that would help you with your tasks in Nevada. You said you were a dispatcher and a makeshift medic for the team…so I decided that modern tech and medical supplies would be something you desired.” The Player explains.

“They’re very practical and will be beneficial in serving us in our endeavor. Thank you for the gifts, Player. You’re very thoughtful about all of our preferences and needs.” Doc compliments.

The Player merely laughs and smiles at Doc with a bright shine in their eye.

He couldn’t help the fluttering feeling he felt in his chest when you laughed and smiled at him like that. His mask could be seen moving from the smile that was hidden behind it as he admires you.

He didn’t understand how the chances of him and you meeting up was ever made possible, but he finds himself never regretting investigating into the Employers files about you. He would’ve never met you if he didn’t discover your existence.

And if there’s one thing he’s thankful for…

It’s that he got to meet such a wonderful person as you.

–

The day continued onward and once all the gifts were given out and the mess of wrapping paper, torn bows, and discarded packaging was dealt with, you all went into the kitchen to feast on another meal.

You all sat at the same table and you would bring in the food, with some help from Sanford, and the spread was laid out.

A meal fit for a restaurant was laid out before the crew as you announced them all to happily dig in and each one did so with voracious abandon.

You all ate and shared stories about what has happened between now and Thanksgiving, each story much more chaotic and lively than the last as you all exchanged laughter and cheers.

The crew happily fills their bellies and you do the same.

Despite the snow, silence, and the growing chill that surrounded your home on the outside, your house was warm, lively, and merry all on the inside. With each member of SQ having a great time eating, drinking, and partying while you indulge in their fun.

You couldn’t even stop smiling for the whole day.

Then again, why would you?

This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had!

The Hybrid (Part 4)

Damiano x Thomas Omegaverse

Word Count: 6.9k

CW: mentions of abuse and also god might smite you for reading

They snuck out of Damiano’s building the back way, leaving a note on the table in case the security force came to check on him. The less the government could track their whereabouts, the better. 

The Raggi’s lived in a small apartment in a giant complex. Damiano had always wondered why they didn’t pick a better location. With Thomas’ job, he could definitely afford to move his mom somewhere cozier. Dami then realized that it's a lot easier to blend in, to be inconspicuous, when you look and live the exact same as hundreds of units. Even if the security force did arrive, it would take several precious minutes to find the address.

“Head down, hair in front of your face,” Thomas murmured. 

“What about sun glasses or a hat?”

“No, it’ll look like we’re trying to hide. That's more likely to get us in trouble than some bruising.” Getting out of his nice, warm, comfortable nest had been terrible. The apartment smelled foul and everything reminded him of Samuel: the mediocre, the bad, and the ugly. Thomas made them both shower all the pheromones off, change clothes, and laundered the dirty ones. Dami didn’t realize how comforting the scenting had been until it was gone. Everything felt too raw and sharp. 

They didn’t even touch after showering to reduce the production of pheromones. Damiano wanted to cling to Thomas, but wasn’t allowed a hug and it was brutal. In the car Tom drove with all the windows down. Even though he wasn’t chilly, Damiano started shivering and couldn’t stop.

“Are you cold?” He shook his head no and Thomas refocused his attention on driving, jaw set. He’d coached Damiano not to display any affection, not even signs of a close friendship. Dami knew that this was for his mate’s protection and would therefore follow instructions exactly. Nevertheless, Tom’s embrace in his nest had been the only thing that made one of the worst days of his life bearable. This stoicism made him feel so isolated that Damiano wanted to cry from loneliness and his breath caught in his throat.

“Take a deep breath. Remember that I love you.” The omega clenched his teeth and focused on not gasping for air. Damiano willed himself to keep it together a while longer until they were safe.

“I love you too.” Out of instinct, he reached towards Thomas after getting out of the car. They were always connected in some way: an arm around someone’s shoulders, waist, or hips. A hand on the back or musing someone’s hair. Holding each other in some way, playing with the others outerwear, usually in an effort to bring them closer. No, they hadn’t been inconspicuous enough.

Damiano followed dutifully behind Thomas, not completely confident in his ability to remember the location of the apartment. When they reached the door, he didn’t knock, just stood close to the keyhole. After a moment, his mother opened the door and shooed them inside. The place smelled of food, but Dami wasn’t sure what. He was just getting his bearings when Thomas crushed him in a hug. Showering him with compliments while moving the hair from his face, he kissed his forehead then lips. 

“You did so well, caro mio. I’m so sorry you had to do that, but you were amazing and perfect. I’ll do my best to keep you from doing something like that again.” Kiss. “And I’m so proud of you.” Kiss. “You were poised and composed and casual. I don’t think anyone noticed you did such a good job caro mio. I love you so much, cucciolo and I’m so lucky…” The ache in his ribs caused Damiano to tune him out. The shivering has stopped, as has the unease from Samuel’s smell, and the fear from being somewhere he could find Damiano. The omnipresent exhaustion from spending hours in fight or flight kicked in and he was slouching, giving Thomas his weight. 

“Woah, I got you cucciolo.” Damiano felt himself being swept off the ground. So close to the blurring light fixture the rays started to give him a pounding headache so he closed his eyes. The next feeling he registered was his shoes being taken off, and found himself on a bed with pink roses embroidered on the sheets.

“How long have I been asleep?” he mumbled, discombobulated.

‘Uh, about 45 seconds,” Thomas chuckled, pulling a shoe off. Thomas' mother blocked the hallway light when she entered the room, and put a hand between his shoulder blades.

“Drink this.” A straw was held up to his mouth, and the liquid thick, like a smoothie or meal replacement, probably with electrolytes.

“Thank you Marcella,” he slurred.

“Sit up for me dear,” she coaxed, that hand on his back pushing him upwards. Damiano sensed Thomas, felt the bed shift, and saw him leaning over. With the help of his mother, he pulled off Damiano’s top layers, and yanked his coat out from under him. He left the room which caused a pang of anxiety.

“Tommy –”

“He’ll be right back, bambino. Drink more.” Dami makes a noise of dissent, but Marcella reminds him of his own mother, so rejecting self care is not an option. She’s known him for too long not to force her maternal instincts upon him. Thomas does walk back into the room, and immediately reaches for the button of Damiano’s jeans, who this time makes a grunt to indicate scandal and chokes on his smoothie. Thomas laughs and actually smiles for the first time today, so it's worth it.  

“Unless you want to sleep in jeans, that is?” He pulls the pants down, and off, carefully replacing them with old pajamas. 

“Cold,” he hears a female voice say, only registering that it's a warning from Marcella when the contusion ointment meets the bruised skin of his ribcage. Damiano hisses in pain, but feels his hand being held by Thomas, who's sitting in the middle of the bed. He thinks that Dami has his eyes closed, that he doesn’t see Thomas turn his back because he can’t bear to watch, and who puts a hand to his mouth to repress the urge to be sick. Marcella’s touch is steady when it moves up to Damiano’s face. She pauses.

“Caro, let's put a shirt on him while he’s still awake.” Tom doesn’t trust his voice, just pulls the ratty long sleeve he brought from his childhood bedroom over Dami’s head, guiding his arms. He takes the glass back to the kitchen as an excuse to leave his mother’s bedroom, but ends up setting it on the counter and running to the bathroom. Thomas turns on the sink hoping that his omega couldn’t hear the retching, couldn’t hear this total crumbling of strength. Would he have been able to do this without his mom’s help? Maybe, maybe not. 

Like a coward, he stays in the bathroom until his mother’s gentle knock on the door. The wobbles on his feet, emotionally exhausted in his own right.

“Is he asleep?” Thomas asks, opening the door.

“Yes. Come eat, let’s talk.” Marcella is barely tall enough to hold her son's face between her hands. Tom stoops over to embrace her. She feels small and delicate, like the skeleton of a bird. This perception of fragility is the thing that finally brings Thomas to his knees, both emotionally and physically. Marcella strokes his hair as he cries, kissing the crown of his head lovingly as he had done to Damiano just minutes ago.

“You did everything right. Getting help, coming here, loving him. I know it's jarring to learn that he’s not invincible, but you’ll adapt.”

“Will I?” he sobs.

I don’t expect you to be superhuman, and neither does that boy who’d follow you to hell and back if you asked. You held back for as long as your biology would let you.”

“And now what?”

“Now we contain this for as long as possible while still letting you live your life.”

“And after that?”

“A discussion for another evening.” It was a relief to confide in his mother as he sat on the living room couch. Every 20 minutes of ranting she would give him something new to eat or drink. Finally, Thomas didn’t feel alone in anything, and the urge to cry abated. 

Marcella stroked her son’s head, who had grown up and was a foot taller than her. His soft, blond hair had been the same since she held him as a baby, when Thomas was new and delicate, and so tiny. She remembered being able to hold the grown man beside her in one arm. When she’d gotten the diagnosis, Marcella laid infant Thomas on her chest and felt the pitter-patter of his little heartbeat against hers. She watched the shadows her son’s long eyelashes cast on his flushed cheeks as he slept, and tried to figure out an ethical thing to do. As the full moon moved outside the window, the shadows on Tom’s face lengthened then shrunk to nonexistence. Marcella decided that she could not fix her baby, because he was not born broken. 

During that endless night, she thought about all the inevitabilities. That one day her child would grow up, and he would love someone so much that his choice to refrain would be taken from him. That would be a joyous day, whether he be a fully fledged omega, or a hybrid. Marcella could never have anticipated how messy things would get on the way there. 

“He’s so beautiful,” she hummed. “He always was, but his energy has changed. He’s more receptive, less prideful.”

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

“The relationship?”

“That…but knowing who I am. He showed me.” She nodded thoughtfully, then seemed to come to a decision.

“Then everything is as it should be.” Her peaceful expression sours after a moment. “Except what the monster did today.”

“I wish I could hurt him, do permanent damage,” Thomas seethed.

“But you were made for better things.” This was a mantra he’s been raised on. When met with the urge for retaliation, violence, or aggression, Marcella would remind her son. This was, ofcourse, because Thomas didn’t have the physicality to take on an actual alpha and could get mortally wounded.

“The frustration and inadequacy you’ll feel is rooted in a society that views physical harm and control as desirable conflict resolution tactics.That is not a society whose opinion you should care about. Be good to those you love and let love compel you to do good. Not violence.” Marcella sits back and unclasps her hands. “You should sleep now,” she instructs.

“I don’t know if I can,” he sighs, looking at the kitchen clock. “How is it only 9pm? Christ, okay.” He groans as he stands up and walks to the linens closet. 

“What are you doing?” his mother inquires.

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch and you’ll sleep in my bed, right?” 

“No, you should sleep with your mate. I put Damia in my room because you can barely fit on that tiny mattress of yours. I’ll sleep there.” Thomas opened and closed his mouth twice, face feeling hot.

“I, I – but we don’t need to be in the same bed! We’re not gonna do anything.” Marcella raised one eyebrow and looked at him quizzically. She was a matter of fact woman unintimidated by any conversation. 

“If he wakes up in the middle of the night a knot might be the most comforting thing.”

“Mom,” Thomas groans in mortification. They talked about everything, but part of never having a mate or sustained relationship was that there was no reason to talk about this.

“I assume that's a function the two of you have figured out?”

“Oh my god, can we please not talk about this?”

“Thomas Raggi,” using his full name was never a good sign. “There is nothing gross about omegan reproductive biology, just because it’s not your biology,” she scolded. “The reason we’ve made it this long is because I had all the information and could research it.”

“I know that,” he lamented. “Yes, that part works.”

“And what other parts work?” Thomas sighed, looking at the floor when he responded.

“Bonding, scenting, and glands, but it's uncomfortable.”

“Not marking?”

“We haven’t tried. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe and I was right. Victoria recognized my alpha scent from his nest today.”

“Alpha scent? So it’s not the same?”

“No.” Marcella started scribbling down on a notepad. She’d likely spend the whole evening pouring over the stacks of books concerning hybridism that she hid between the walls. It was an ever growing collection of not necessarily banned, but somewhat incriminating literature accessed via a loose board and lots of ingenuity.

“There’s also this thing, where we can comfort each other using pheromones.” Thomas didn’t see his mother surprised often, but the expression flashed across her face before she resumed writing at a frenzied pace. Thomas waited until her pen slowed.

“So what do you think?” He regarded his mother’s advice above all else, sometimes even his own reasoning. 

“I think marking might be the most healing thing for Damiano, and the best for both of you. It's the natural progression. I think he should understand exactly what he’s getting himself into first. Too many people know for this to stay quiet. Victoria will be trustworthy for a time, but Samuel is going to indict you as much as possible. It's almost inevitable that you’ll be detained, even if you’re just accused of having a romantic and sexual relationship with another omega. With your history, they’ll ask questions and your mate could be implicated too.” Just the thought of Damiano being put in harm's way has Tom choking on his panic.

“I’m gonna check on him.” Thomas opens the door slowly, a slant of light illuminating Dami’s form under the pink comforter. His back is turned, so Tom tip-toes in to get a look at his face. Damiano’s expression is peaceful, such a stark contrast to the bruising that marks his face. His body has automatically favored the uninjured side in his sleeping position. It’s immediately too much for Thomas and the nausea comes back. He quickly leaves the room, propping his forearms against the kitchen counter as he collects himself.

“He’s still asleep,” Thomas announces as he walks back into the living room. “I think I’m gonna sleep out here so I don’t disturb him.”

“Thomas –”

“Mom, I can’t even look at his face,” he divulges. “I don’t want to exist in a world where bad things happen to Damiano.”

“And like every other alpha, you’ll have to reconcile the fact that terrible things are going to happen to your omega, and you’ll be powerless to stop them.” If not for his slumbering mate, Thomas would seriously consider outright screaming in frustration.

“But how, mom? How!?”

“Center him in everything you do. An alpha’s world revolves around themselves until they find a mate. It's not about you anymore, Thomas. It’s not about your preferences, it’s about what he needs and –” A noise coming from the bedroom causes Marcella to pause, and Thomas rushes down the hall. 

“Uh, what, huh? Tommy?” Damiano is half conscious and disoriented in the dark, unfamiliar space. Their voices must have been too loud and woken him. Thomas closes the door behind himself, deciding that now is as good a time to go to lay down as any. Sleep was going to evade him regardless.

“Right here, cucciolo. You okay?” The bed dips as he sits down and shucks his jeans off quickly.

“Huh? I think, um, I…hey.” Thomas crawls up the mattress, rubbing his hand along Damianos form over the blanket so he’d know his alpha was close. Thomas had barely pushed a leg under the covers when Dami tried to snuggle up to him. That was made difficult by the fact that Thomas hadn’t laid down yet. He was immediately too warm with two bodies under heavy bedding. As his head hit the pillow, he felt almost suffocated, claustrophobic plagued by the nerve wracking fear that he was going to fail his mate.

When Damiano actually laid his head on his alpha’s chest, that emotion dissipated and intense affection took its place. Dami wasn’t satisfied with having just an arm slung over Thomas, and slithered so he was almost completely on top of him, legs tangled together.

“You’re here,” he croaked, as Tom carefully wrapped him up, conscious that his arm didn’t put weight on a tender spot.

“I’m here, cucciolo.”.

“But where am I?” Instead of lifting himself up to converse, Dami’s eyes stayed closed and he burrowed further against Tom’s neck, nuzzling him contentedly. Wherever they were, Thomas was here too, which is another way of saying that Damiano was home.

“We’re at my mom’s apartment and I was going to sleep right here, with you tonight. If that’s okay?”

“Mhm!” Damiano confirmed, enthusiastically nodding his head. There was that sick feeling again. How could anyone not cherish him? Thomas couldn’t reconcile reason with reality.

“This isn’t the couch. Did you get a new bed?” he mumbled, voice sleepy.

“No, we're in my mom's room. She’s sleeping in my bed.”

“I fucking hate that bed,” Dami groaned. “Was too small for both of us. Didn’t have an excuse to cuddle you,” he complained. Thomas was thrilled to know Damiano’s inner thoughts from those early years.

“We tried once, remember? You said you were too uncomfortable to sleep.”

“I meant my dick was too uncomfortable for me to sleep. You were spooning me and I was hard the whole fucking night.” Tom giggles and grins into Damiano’s curls. Despite the day they’d had he can feel Dami’s lips turn into a smile.

“You could’ve gone to the bathroom.”

“Oh, I thought about it. But I couldn’t risk you not holding me when I got back.”

“So you just suffered the whole night?” Thomas laughs incredulously. 

“Was worth it.”

“You could have woken me up. I probably would have helped you deal with it!” his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“You were 15. Plus, if I woke you up every time I got a boner from us being in the same bed, we would never sleep through the night.”

“Then why’d you put yourself through it?” Thomas exclaimed.

“You’ve always smelled so, so fucking good,” he moaned. Each word he rutted against Thomas’ hip a little. 

“Okay, I can’t smell that good!” Thomas was feeling shy, but loved being surrounded by all this affirmation.

“Mm-mm, you don’t get it. You’re not fully hormonal, the scent part is so fucking strong.” Damiano clutched Thomas’ thigh between his own so he could rub against it as the memories flooded his mind. “I got a little obsessed with it. I thought you were just the cool, kinda introverted kid that was a wicked good guitar player and fun to be around. And then I started to smell you. Wasn’t sure that I liked it at first, but that evolved into me huffing your dirty gym clothes when to one was around like a fucking pervert.” 

“So you figured out you liked it?” Thomas chuckled, feigning his casual manner. Damiano decides to spare him the teenage fantasies of masturbating in a pile of Tom’s dirty laundry. Also filed under Maybe We Don’t Tell Him Ever is licking Thomas’ dirty boxers when he went to the bathroom and consequently having a toe curling orgasam after thrusting against his mattress exactly four times. Instead of answering Thomas' rather rhetorical question, Damiano surprises him by pushing his sweatshirt up and ducking under the fabric so he can lick Tom’s armpit while scenting him. 

Thomas gasps at the feeling, pulling away because he's ticklish. He feels the same confused arousal as he did when Dami rimmed him during his rut. Dami hangs on, seeking out Thomas’ body when he pulls away, thrusting against his thigh in all their clothes. Tom had been very thorough in instilling in his conscience that they couldn’t have sex tonight. For a moment he forgets why, because Damiano is sober and extremely enthusiastic right now so why not? Oh yes, because if he turned the light on his omega would be covered in bruises from the fist of another alpha.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he rushes out while reaching to switch on the bedside lamp. Damiano pushes Tom’s sweatshirt over his head, who’s subsequently greeted with a glorious view of Dami’s stomach where his shirt rides up: tattooed, tan, muscular, with a smattering of hair and the beginnings of sweat. Christ. The bruising is isolated to one spot, and the swelling in his face has gone way down, so if he’s just self aware when they have sex…no.

“I can’t get hard right now, knowing what happened barely a day ago…” Damiano reaches between their bodies and grabs Thomas’ cock over his briefs. His completely erect dick jumps in response. Dami raises an eyebrow, but after seeing the amount of conflict in Thomas' expression, his face falls. Damiano realizes that he’s probably not going to get a knot, (or what he really wants, to be marked) because his mate has such a strict moral code. Thomas sees the genuine, crestfallen disappointment, and combined with a contradictory gut instinct, he reevaluates. 

“I'm making this about me,” he says slowly, checking that the words feel just as true rolling off the tongue. “This is about what you need. I’m afraid that I’m going to cause further harm because I don’t have the awareness of a real alpha.”

“You’re my alpha,” Damiano counters, straddling Tom’s hips, who’s propped up on his elbows.

“I am,” he smirks, looking up at his mate.

“So you’re a real alpha.” Damiano watches where his fingertips touch the skin of Thomas’ chest, circling each freckle. “And I’m not making my choices in a cloud of hormones. I have near complete autonomy with you, so don’t worry about compensating for the pheromonal influence. In fact,” Dami leans over to kiss a line down Thomas’ chest. “I’ve never been so clear-headed with anyone.”

“Is that your long-winded,” Dami draws a circle around Tom’s bellybutton with his tongue who lets out a sigh. “Extremely sexy way of saying that this isn’t going to make things worse?” He runs a hand through his omega’s greasy hair, only noticing its silky texture. Dami catches his hand and sucks on what should have developed into a scent gland, but didn’t due to Thomas’ hybridism. He expects to feel nothing, which is why the bolt of electricity down his arm makes him jump. Dami looks up with a devilish smile, like Thomas’ body is his favorite playground, because it is.

“I think you’d really struggle to harm me accidentally.” There's nerves in Thomas’ wrist that he’s never felt before, awakened by Dami’s insistent tongue. It’s uncomfortable, but also so exciting. His internal glands had matured completely, which made sense since they’re the first to be developed in the womb. Next came the neck glands which were underdeveloped, but not so severely that people noticed if he kept his hair long. However, the glands on his wrists just looked like a scar, which is exactly what Thomas said they were. As a child he had a tragic, rare infection that resulted in them being removed. The government was so desperate to keep any variation a secret, that they came up with the story for him and stuck it in his official medical history.

“Can we stop experimenting now? Do something we know works?” Thomas whined, wrinkling his nose from enduring the discomfort. 

“Of course, principe,” Dami gives the area a final lick. 

“Why are you so far away, come ‘ere,” he coaxes, affectionately. Damiano crawls upwards and Thomas greets him with the softest kiss he’s ever received. It's not a peck, or a brush of lips, just so, so careful. Tom opens his mouth while tilting his head to deepen the kiss, letting Dami press his tongue into his alpha’s mouth.

“Take off your clothes, cucciolo,” he coos. Damiano swings a leg back over so he can peel back his pants and boxers, doing the same to Thomas, who’d usually be the aggressor, but is waiting patiently for Damiano to straddle him once again. Tom notes that he elects to keep his shirt on, pulling it down to cover his abdomen. 

When they resume kissing, Thomas lays back and gently guides Damiano with him. Seeking more contact, Dami flattens his body horizontally, against his mate. Having a layer of fabric between them felt very strange. Thomas’ mouth stays soft and relaxed, minimizing his movement, but making sure every breath was heavy with passion. Now that his hands were free, he gripped Dami’s thighs, where he knew there was no injury. Even after this hellish day, he was starting to slick up for Thomas, who slid his hand over to massage his omega’s rim. His other hand slid under the shirt on Dami’s uninjured side, warm and steady. 

Damiano resumed rutting against Thomas, the stimulation much more intense now that there was no fabric between them. However, every time the hem of his shirt brushed the tip of his cock. To make the process more comfortable Thomas inserted one finger into his omega, putting some pressure on an internal gland. Immediately he was rewarded with a rush of slick and a groan of sensitivity. He applied the natural lubrication from his pubic hair to chest, giving Damiano a surface to thrust against. 

That hand under his shirt, stroked everywhere Thomas was sure was safe. He knew how important skin to skin was for Damiano, for both of them. Meanwhile, he worked a second finger inside, helping Dami get some force behind his thrusts to make them more pleasurable. 

“I want, I want –” he started, likely trying to articulate that while this was great, on his alpha’s stomach was not how he wanted to cum. 

“You can cum inside me,” Thomas offered. The view of Dami’s cock glidingly against his body transcended all higher self. He was aroused to the point of slick. Only after he spoke the words did it occur to Tom that this was a way to give Damiano his power back. Was it his sexual desires or his omega’s best interests that motivated him? Or were those two things already becoming one?

Dami froze for a second, his brain struggling to understand the proposal. Receiving a knot and doing the fucking never happened in the same session, or even the same day (with the exception of a very late evening trist with Thomas.) Damiano’s mouth had stilled and he opened his eyes before Thomas, whose face was relaxed. His lips were parted and brows unfurrowed. He was soft and willing to receive. Dami’s mouth finally caught up with his train of thought.

“Yes. Yeah – yes, um.” He walked his hands back, sitting on Tom’s thighs while he strategized how to rearrange their limbs.

“Is this how you want me?” Thomas asked, and it was like every time they’d hooked up. This was a beloved, familiar, pleasurable rhythm they’d perfected over the years. He parted Thomas’ thighs and knelt between them, rubbing his quads affectionately as he assessed the situation. Thomas had barely started producing slick and there was nothing to prop his hips up with. His bollocks were heavy and tight against his body, skin flushed. Dami decided to prep him in a more accessible position.

“On your stomach,” he directed. Thomas flipped over, laying flat. Dami knelt between his parted thighs. It was unorthodox for an omega to pleasure their alpha in such a subordinate, vulnerable manner. Dami pressed his hand between Tom’s glutes, teasing his hole more than anything else. He tried to get Thomas to relax by kneading the muscle. He gave his cute little butt a playful slap prompting Thomas to giggle into the pillow, which turned into a moan as a finger was pressed inside him, elasticity tested. The more aroused he became the stronger the scent of slick. Soon the room would reek of lovemaking.

Damiano wasn’t drunk on it like he’d been before, but that could have to do with his own lack of hormones. Still, Thomas was always delicious and the urge to taste, to know if something had changed, was strong. He sat back on his heels and reached both hands under Thomas’ hip bones. He pulls Tom’s ass up to meet his face, using his thumbs to part his glutes.

He licked a solid stripe across his entrance to start, then pressed his tongue inside. Thomas squealed and keened, hands gripping the mattress. Normally alpha’s had external glands, not internal. So, while the prostate could still be stimulated, many male alphas outright refused to bottom and went untouched internally. Damiano always thought this was a waste. He loved eating his partners out, regardless of anatomy. They had to let their guard down, which established intimacy, plus the stimulation was excellent whether vaginal or anal.

Of course, actually being able to taste them was on its own level entirely. Thomas had always taken a little more work, most similar to a female beta. Damiano never minded spending extra time in bed with Tom, or with the flavor of his slick. It soothed the intense compulsion he had for physical intimacy with Thomas, who had always been a delicacy, his absolute favorite. As a teenager he’d eat him out until Thomas had to ask him to stop, exhausted. The way Damiano would moan between his legs made every orgasam feel like a rush. As a pent up 16-18 year old, he’d go full throttle until the edges of his consciousness were blurring.

Damian could insert a finger and stimulate his glands directly, but his mate was so sensitive that it wasn’t exactly pleasurable. So it was a game of patience, spending time with Tom’s body. Coaxing him to relax had never been so difficult. He was stuck in the dialectic of pulling away from sensitivity, and pushing back against Dami’s face in pleasure. His breath kept catching in his throat as he let out little gasps and whines, which almost turned into pleas: the sounds of a submissive. There was delicious musk that hadn’t been present before, and the erotisicism of topping his alpha was impeding upon Damiano’s decision making. He started to nip at the round muscle of his buttock. If Thomas would just ask to be marked this torturous self restraint wouldn’t be necessary. 

“I want you to be mine,” he growled, thoughts going unfiltered. 

“I’m yours,” Thomas answered, voice muffled by the pillow. Damiano wanted to beg to go a step further, but knew it wasn’t safe. Demanding such a thing would kill the mood, so he pulls back, clenching his jaw shut. Instead he scents Thomas, on his neck and in his hair. Thomas couldn’t get as wet as he wanted, and that was okay. Damiano could use his own slick as lubricant, and they could talk about this tomorrow. 

“Ride me,” Dami demands, pulling away and laying down on the bed. Thomas turns his head at the sound of Damiano’s voice. His honey golden hair partially covers his face, but he pushes it out of the way with his long, elegant fingers, still on his stomach. Even in the low lighting his irises are visibly green, how down turned eyes making him look perpetually somber unless he was smiling. There’s the hint of a scruff on his face and his plush lips are parted to a pant, a couple stray strands sticking in the corners of his mouth. His feral teeth are almost visible and Damiano is struck by such intense fondness that his love for this man beside him is almost crippling. 

Thomas sits up and gets his legs under him. It’s a good thing too because Dami was suddenly on the edge of something he didn’t feel equipped to cope with right now. He helped guide Thomas as he swung a leg over to straddle his omega’s lap. Despite how evolved he was, Damiano had never had his mate ride his cock. Sure a couple hookups had because he was so beautiful that even an alpha would try anything once, but there was a sacred, untouched level of devotion between Dami and Tom.

He reached underneath him, using his own slick to lube his cock. Thomas sank down slowly, letting his body adjust to the intrusion. His hands tugged on the hem of Damiano’s shirt for something to hold. He was so pretty, sitting on Dami’s cock. No man was pretty like Thomas. He didn’t have much muscle definition, so everything looked delicate and soft. He had chest hair, and a dramatic waist. He had plentiful pubic hair and the most beautiful pink nipples. He had a proud, engorged cock, and shapely lips parted just so. Masculine and androgynous in perfect balance. Watching Tom ride his cock was an exquisite sight, and made Damiano refocus on the goal at hand: to cum inside his alpha. 

Thomas straddled his lip, rhythmically tilting his hips upwards towards Dami, letting out little pants. He didn’t need to be directed, Tom was happy to take initiative, with those somber eyes making sure his omega was enjoying the show. His cock was leaking plenty of pre-cum to compensate. Immediately he felt too far away, and Damiano surged upwards, grabbing wherever he could get a hold to bring Thomas nearer 

He repositioned to be upright, arms wrapped around his mate, holding him so close that it was impractical. There wasn’t room to breathe.

“Damia, can’t –” 

“Need to be close to you.” Thomas whined in arousal and felt his chest flush. Losing verbal ability himself, Thomas scented his omega back, and feel the pressure of knot behind his taint.. For a moment he was dizzy, and lost rhythm, so Damiano’s hands were there to help him ride his cock. 

“Keep going, principe. I’m close.” Thomas let out another long whine, this time forlorn and Dami immediately tried to figure out the source of his displeasure so he could fix it. Looking down at himself, he remembered that he’d kept his shirt on for Tom’s benefit. Of course now, Thomas was trying to get a hold of him and was going about it blind. His sweet baby was stressed that his hands were going to bump a hurt spot.

“You can take it off,” Damiano cooed, happy to be done with all the clothing. As soon as he was bare chested, Thomas finally got into it. Slick leaked onto Damiano’s thighs and Thomas clawed at his shoulder blades to bring him closer. His breathing pattern changed and all the focus in his face dissolved as his eyes fell closed. This whole time he’d just needed a lack of barriers between them. 

Again, that feeling of fondness so intense that Damiano wanted to bite down as hard as he could took over. That urge was indicative of orgasam (among other things), and so he tried to push through and maintain a basic level of self control. Now, they were so close that Thomas’ cock was rubbing against Dami’s stomach and leaking pre-cum everywhere. The scent of their slick was already overwhelming, and now that was compounded with salty spink, sweat, and scenting making the room smell sour and heady. Tom’s head lulled backwards and Damiano started thrusting upward, trying to stay in the lead. He wrapped both arms around Thomas’ ribcage and crushed his mate's body against his own. Damiano used the grip to control the sex, holding Thomas still as he drove into him, who let out a little grunt of pleasure each time.  

Dami looked down at Thomas’ cock, receiving sporadic friction where it rubbed between their abdomin’s. The ridge of his shaft started to swell with a knot, and even the minimal contact in that area was intense enough that Thomas was literally drooling. A trail of spit landed on his pubic thicket, glistening where it combined with pre-cum. Dami’s nose was less than an inch away from the right scent gland on Tom’s neck. Can I finish without marking him? For a moment Dami considered stopping the whole thing. If Thomas came now, it would be hard to get another knot and the weight of exhaustion was felt behind his eyelids with every blink.

“Don’t cum, don’t cum,” Dami begged. “Please don’t cum, please don’t, please don’t.” Tom tensed his entire body to hold orgasam back and the resulting pressure internally caused Damiano to finish. He bit into his hand to spare Thomas, and started crying from the pain. He could taste blood and feel it against his lips. 

The second Damiano could relax his jaw he pushed Thomas off and flipped over onto his side to receive a knot. His normally conscientious mate was less than a minute away from orgasam, and pushed in Dami immediately. With his face out of view, Damiano tried to control his breathing as the knot formed, so the amount of emotional intensity wouldn't devolve into a worrying hysteria. Tom is able to knot him immediately following it up by a couple desperate thrusts. He forces himself not to race towards orgasam, stilling inside for a moment while he rearranges their body’s. One arm goes under Dami’s neck, the other around his waist.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers into his mate’s hair, feeling a rush of serotonin as they bonded. It’s the inexplicable urge to become part of the other because there is no close enough. He wanted to melt into Damiano, like butter left out to soften too long. Thomas resumes movements, hips stuttering as he tries to slow things down and fails. The splash of hot spunk behind Damiano’s belly button, should ground him and Thomas tries to help by reiterating his earlier words.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” he chants, rubbing his omega’s chest soothingly as he ejaculates inside him. Of course this does nothing but further trigger Damiano’s emotional response to being unable to mark his mate. By bringing them even closer, bonding has made Damiano more aware of the excruciating distance between them. He makes an ugly, despairing sound that isn’t even immediately recognizable as a sob. 

“Damia? Cucciolo?” Thomas props himself up, looking over Damiano’s shoulder to his face which is streaked with tears. Another sob rips from his mouth and he holds his injured hand up to catch it.

“Woah, what's wrong? What –” he moves to pull out so he can properly evaluate the situation, which prompts his omega to make a desperate screech and grip his thigh so he can’t move.

“No! No!!” His voice is shredded, there's not a hint of self awareness. It's the most intense longing combined with the most potent joy and saiation. Damiano is overflowing with feeling.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry! I won’t move, I promise.” He settles against Dami, hooking his top leg over, which gives him something to hold onto. “I’m reaching over to grab the comforter,” Tom narrates, throwing it over them. “What just happened? Did I hurt you?” He forces his tone to stay level. 

“No, you didn’t,” Dami sniffles, trying to stop a cry from ripping forth. “I bit my hand, so I – so I didn’t, um,” sob “mark you.” Sob. “But I really wish I could have,” sob. “I’ve always wanted to and now it’s really, really,” sob, “difficult not to.” Thomas processes the words, kissing Damiano’s cheek a couple times.

“So you’re crying because you’re emotionally overwhelmed, not because something went wrong a moment ago?”

“Sex with you is basically perfect. I never thought I’d cry this much over really amazing sex. I never thought I’d cry this much, period. Ugh!” Dami wipes his face with the back of his uninjured hand. “I’d tell you I’m not usually like this, but…”

“But I already know.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I know you, seeing as we’re officially boyfriends and all that”

“Yeah.” Damiano is smiling now, lacing his fingers through Thomas’. He takes two deep breaths, letting the second out through his mouth.

“Whew! What the fuck,” he mutters, settling. It seems that they’ve just taken the long road to afterglow, because this is a response to sex that Thomas is very familiar with. Dami seems to actually relax back into the bed, and chuckles self consciously. 

“I must be a great boyfriend, randomly giving you two minutes of the most extreme emotional response you’ve ever seen in your life, then just moving on.” He rolls his eyes at himself, which Thomas doesn’t like very much. This emotional dysregulation could be from a dozen perfectly valid things: beginning of a new relationship, terminating a mate, getting a new mate, enduring physical abuse, being reminded of past trauma, having your home made inhospitable, being removed from your nest, the desire to mark, having your mark denied, exhaustion, malnourishment and dehydration. By the time Thomas has listed all these off in his head, Damiano is struggling to keep his eyes open, the knot doing the trick.

“I don’t mind at all,” Thomas whispers, pecking Dami's scent gland experimentally. “Sleep now. Talk Tomorrow. Love you.” Thomas reaches behind himself to turn off the lamp.

“Love you,” his omega repeats.

Notes: Ah! I know its not what you wanted, but I was going through my Masterlist and realized the link for this chapter isn't active because I never fucking posted it!

The Moth Maiden

“All a woman has,” said mama, “is her beauty.”

They called her the moth maiden. She wore a long dark colored gown and an intricate lace veil which covered her facial features. All that could be seen of her was her rippling dark hair, which flowed over her shoulders to the middle of her back.

The moth maiden. Whispers seldom followed her for she had been a steady fixture in the Duke’s palace for over two decades. Some said she was his daughter. Others said she was an inhuman creature conceived out of wedlock. But for the most part nothing was said about her at all, and she was left to mind her days as she pleased.

One day, the moth maiden voiced a strange request. She asked for an audience with the Duke, saying, “Today is my twenty-first birth-day. I have come to claim my birthright.”

The Duke cleared his throat and looked uncomfortably around at his courtiers. “Very well, my Lady. We will oblige.”

The moth maiden bowed stiffly and turned to leave the hall. Just then, she hesitated and posed the question- “Your Grace does remember my mother, does he not?”

The Duke’s face hardened and he said, “how could I not? She was the most beautiful woman in the land.”

His expression was unreadable as she left the room. “End her,” he muttered to his most highly trusted advisor. “I would not have my legacy passed down to that creature. Before the night is over, that girl must die.”

In her tower room, her circular chamber with stark walls and bare floors and just a few necessities, the maiden unclasped her veil and clapped her hands in a rare show of joy. She pulled a strangely shaped mirror out of the folds of her gown and held it up to her face. “Finally, mama,” she whispered. “Our time is finally come.”

That night the Duke threw a ball for his ward. “She has come of age,” he smiled widely. “It is only fitting that we celebrate her with due courtesy.”

The walls of the banquet hall were bedecked with lavish tapestries. Lanterns adorned every corridor, and the floors were swept sparkling clean. Rich smells wafted from the kitchens, roast meat and decadent sweets were prepared, and a jolly air settled upon both the castle and the surrounding area, for the villagers had been invited to partake in the festivities.

The Duke bore it all with a carefree grin, but more than one noticed the expression in his eyes, and wondered at the worry displayed in them.

The maiden sat in her chambers, twirling a lock of hair with a broken comb. She wore her only gown and pocketed the mirror given to her by her mother, who had said with her dying breath-

“All a woman has is her beauty,” -

before passing into the nether realm. The maiden echoed those words before setting her veil into place.

The hour had come, the guests had all arrived, and the Duke sat in his place at the head of the high table. Bards played music whilst the townspeople danced in the center of the long hall. Indeed, in the midst of the merriment the true purpose of the ball had been forgotten.

The moth maiden slipped unnoticed through the throng of people, making it to the Duke’s side. She slipped her mirror into her hand for good luck, though it bit into her palm- it was but a shard and had sharp edges.

The cold kiss of metal against her throat stopped her in her tracks. An even colder voice said, “sit. And be civil about it,” and the moth maiden complied, seating herself in the empty chair by the Duke’s own.

Finally acknowledging her presence, the Duke cleared his throat and announced, “I present to you the most beautiful young maiden in the land, ready to grace us all with the unveiling of her appearance.”

The moth maiden dutifully made to lift her veil. Just at that moment, the metal dagger sank into her back and she crumpled over the table.

“My daughter,” cried out the Duke in an exaggerated fashion, “My poor daughter has been murdered!”

A hush fell upon the crowd, and they turned their attentions to the high table, where the main spectacle of the night had been served.

The maiden unsteadily sat up. “So you admit it. All I wanted…” she coughed up blood, “was to be a good daughter to you.”

The crowd gasped, for her veil had slipped off her face. Some shrieked at the sight of her visage, others turned their faces away from her.

The tilt of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows, the accusatory glare she directed at the Duke. “You promised you would claim me as your own. Yet you try to kill me.”

The Duke stuttered, “Witch! This is no daughter of mine!”

The voice that had bid her to sit wrenched her mirror from her grasp, and held it up for all to see.

“A dagger!” The Duke yelled, spittle flying in the air. “She would have me murdered!”

“That is,” protested the moth maiden as she was pushed to her feet and put into shackles, “a momento of my mother’s!” She was forcefully steered to the dungeons, blood from her back staining her gown a dark brown.

“They are going to execute you,” it was that voice again.

The moth maiden sat on the straw pallet with her knees pushed up to her chin. Moonlight infiltrated the cell, throwing the long bars of the cell into shadows upon the dirty floor, just barely missing the figure standing outside shrouded in darkness.

“He would have me killed,” The maiden held her mirror up to her face. That, at least, they hadn’t taken. “Is it really such a terrible thing?”

“To be beautiful?”

“I am not beautiful,” the maiden shifted, and the light fell on the scar, illuminating it from within. Followed its twists and turns all across her face, through the whorls and valleys that turned her face from a human’s into that of an ethereal, otherworldly monster.

“I’ve been disfigured since I was a baby. Mama knew this, and it was the Duke’s greatest shame. She told him it would fade. She made him promise- stalled for time, to give me my birthright when I came of age. But he did not forgive her, and he does not forgive me.”

“For being beautiful?”

The moth maiden smiled. “What manner of game is this? Are you going to help me?”

The voice said, “I’m all that you have, moth maiden. I am going to save you.”   

The clock struck twelve over an empty cell. The moth maiden had taken flight. Leaving her mirror on the straw pallet, the one that shaped like a dagger. It had left mark enough on her palms. And now it would reflect only the light of the moon.

Hello, congrats on 300 followers! It’s well deserved! Can I request a matchup? I don’t have a preference for LOTR or The Hobbit characters. I’m 5’5, I have very long brown hair (although my family sometimes says it looks auburn) and brown eyes, and I’m on the curvy/chubby side. I’m pretty shy and anxious around those I don’t know, but I’m more outspoken and honest with those I do know. My interests include cooking for my family, taking care of my cats, three goats and my pig! I also love photography and writing/reading. I love nature and live in a rural area. I love going on walks and collecting rocks, acorns and other cool things I find. I don’t really have a preferred gender. I hope you’re feeling well after your surgery! I wish you all the best 💛

Thank you and of course you can! Enjoy your hobbit man for I ship you and…

Merry!

I can just see you as the cutest visitor to the Shire, maybe you’re even staying there for good. You may not be a hobbit but you look like a quite tall one with your sweet eyes and gorgeous curves. Merry sees you out in in the field one day tending to your goat and his heart leaps out of his chest. That’s it for him, one look and one wave from you and he’s lost. Luckily for him, though, he’s not afraid to walk right up and introduce himself- only the neighborly thing to do, after all. Leans up casually against a fence post as he asks how long you’ve been living ‘round these parts. Your shy glances only have him smiling wider. The next time you run into each other, it’s almost literal, Merry nearly bowling you over running from a farm grab while you’re turned around to pick up a pretty rock. Fate must be smiling on the hobbit, though, as you offer to let him hide in your farmhouse and end up making him afternoon tea while he’s there.

Visits become more natural, more regular from then on. He’s found mushrooms? You are the only one he trusts to cook them up right. He was just walking by and oh? Need help with the pig? They’re stubborn little buggers, after all. Merry becomes quite a fixture at your farm and he doesn’t even care if the Sackville-Bagginses talk.

Shy as you are, you make a bold move one day to return master Brandybuck’s calls, bringing a pie by, and soon after your tea and talks you’re strolling down the lane with him until he comes to a garden pretty enough to stop you and tell you he wants to make you his. Your lips are as sweet as your smile, that’s what he tells you after your first kiss there.

One of Merry’s favorite things is when your feisty side comes out. The way you’ll sass Pippin when the three of you have outings, tell him like it is if his idea’s a bit too daft. Sweetheart as you may be, you know how to stand up for yourself and Merry admires that. You can see it in the way he looks at you, chin resting on his hand and love sparkling in his eyes.

After every outing he brings you back a new rock, acorn, or something else like an intact snail’s shell. He’ll even help you build a shelf to display it all if you’d like one! Merry loves indulging your sense of adventure and play in general, sometimes tackling you down into the grass to surprise you. He loves play wrestling, so don’t be shy! You’re the sunshine of this hobbit’s life, so you best believe you’ll get away with quite a lot.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

So, I've seen a few posts lately that highlight Deacon's habit of ending up in just his undies...

I've been sitting on this for a little while...But I think it's time...

I use this nifty little mod called 'Liga of my Companions' (by far the best multi-follower mod out there!)

One feature is the companions can dress themselves...which is great! They go home and change into some casuals... Put on their armor when we're in combat zones, etc...But it can be a little glitchy at times.

I can no longer bring myself to use this feature.😳

Mature content Warning: suggestive/innuendo

Cards on the table. I like to use 'Enhanced Vanilla Bodies.' and not NeverNude...(Certain mods call for such a thing...it is just weird to bathe in your underpants, okay! 😜 CWSS for working bathroom fixtures btw.)

So, I'm running with Mac and Deeks, and suddenly, the pair of them started stripping...like full-on terrorizing enemies by charging at them with their 'assets' on full display. (body slamming enemies, leaping over obstacles...running out of bullets, and fist fighting instead of using their weapons...because I kept forgetting to turn on infinite ammo for them)

So here I am, chasing them around and yelling: "Deacon! Put your pants back on...oh, for f@#k sake Mac, not again!" Because after they did it once, they just kinda ran with it...They'd also be standing there with big grins, which is just normal companion behavior, but I dunno.

This time, it felt personal...

Guys...My fugging mum was watching me play...😱

She, of course, thought this was hilarious, and I guess I must have too considering how much my cheeks hurt from laughing.

I think my man walked in at one point, then walked right back out again once he realized what we were in hysterics about.

I am still not sure if that has been our weirdest mother/daughter moment, but it is definitely up there 🤣🤣🤣

(Mum's where I get most of my weirdness from, and my love for gaming. She spends her evenings playing FO76 or COD online...so she's a bit awesome. I'm not gonna lie!)

Note: I did eventually get it working properly, and actually stopped using the "dress yourself" feature because they are like toddlers dressing themselves!

They come up with some weird combinations....hmmm maybe I should give them a bunch of stuff and see what they come up with to illustrate my point some time 🤣🤣🤣