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gangplanksorenji · 3 months

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Kinknuary Day 18: Voyeurism

Pairing: Kang Hyewon, Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader

Word Count: 8,725

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Is she even near, Eunbi-ah?”

Eunbi faintly winces and clicks her tongue, “Come on, just be patient, babe—she’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

Her small attempts of reassurance even ignites your anxiety because you are a man who doesn’t get his time wasted, not even a second for nothing—two beliefs: time is gold and that your patience is as thin as paper—yet gladly, Eunbi’s reassuring tone and her practice of making your patient subdue such ephemeral advances and that alone, makes you appreciate her even more.

Apart from her being such an absolute gem and often you describe as the epitome of perfection, you can see how heart stands out amongst the rest—even though her physical features made you fall in love with her, it’s her personality that made you fully commit onto loving her and that’s the wonder of Kwon Eunbi.

You won't find a girl like her that can treat you like you’ve always wanted: full of love, compassion and intimacy—yes, and you won’t dare to find one because your heart is only shouting her and her only.

“Oh, Hyewon-ie’s gonna be here! Hurry, I want you to meet her, babe!” Of course, Eunbi is going to introduce you to anyone she becomes acquainted with, as she wants you to be more socially in contact with people. You’re not surprised with this, not even a single bit—you appreciate her advances towards you as she only aims to be the better version of yourself, and with that, you’re madly grateful for meeting a girl like her.

“H-Hyewon? I haven’t heard that name coming out of your mouth, Eunbi.”

Eunbi chuckles, as she flashed a contagious grin, emanating her optimism, “Yah—I mentioned for quite some time now, she’s a great friend from my college days.” She sighs heavily as her eyes probably glisten because of reminiscing her past days with her, knowing how much it probably means to her. “Glad we’re still able to keep in touch, whether it’s online or personal…”

You slowly nodded as you’re invested with her small introduction, and then thought of a lovely banter towards her. “You have so many friends, Eunbi—wonder how many more I haven’t met or maybe—” You chuckle from what you’re formulating, making Eunbi pique her curiosity as you continue, “—you’re even friends with some celebrities at this point.”

“Yah! Can’t blame myself for having a lot of contacts.” Eunbi brushes her hair off her shoulders, fixing herself as she continues, “Besides, you’ll like her—she’s shy and sweet, pretty much you, but a girl version. Also, don’t be intimidated by her look. She may look strict but that’s just how her stare is.”

Those piques your interest towards Hyewon because of her relativity towards your personality according to hers—maybe she’s a little overexaggerated but no blatant and evident lie can past and be utter on Eunbi’s own lips—that’s how angelic she is, but only if you knew what lies within…

Eunbi holds your wrists as she enthusiastically drags you towards the coffee shop that she always loves to visit and has a drink to calm her mind with. You could feel yourself smiling uncontrollably on how eager Eunbi is when it comes to introducing Hyewon to you, and with that reassurance, you’re getting yourself onto the brink of excitement, fully-invested into meeting her.

Yet, you always say this yourself and swear until the end of time: no matter how beautiful and captivating they can be, you’ll always lay your eyes and your whole love towards Eunbi and her only, no matter what happens.

This will be an interesting one and little did you know, your expectation will be surpassed by your desires and mostly, Eunbi’s.

---

“H-Hi…”

“Hello, you must be Hyewon?” You continued the awkward meeting between the both of you, as you can feel how shy she is and most likely, seeing yourself in her and because of Eunbi’s excellent practice with you, you managed to initiate the better blow as you can feel herself getting comfortable.

“Yes… Y-You must be Eunbi-unnie’s boyfriend, oppa?”

“Uhm…” You fix your composure as you meet your eyes towards hers, making her more assured and interested towards you. “Y-Yeah, Hyewon… Also, how did you know?”

Hyewon just laughed a little, covering her mouth with her hands and fixing her hair, her captivating mannerisms finally making you like her as you find it presentable and attractive. “Well, Eunbi-unnie talked about you for quite s-some time, that’s why I knew you, oppa, hihi…”

Now being enlightened, you nodded with her explanation as the both of you further conversed with each other, talking about little topics as you wait for Eunbi on the counter, ordering some coffee and with more time left to wait, the anticipated drinks are now finally within both your grasps as Eunbi happily introduces Hyewon to you.

“I’m sure the both of you have talked to each other, already, since we’ve got here.” Eunbi optimistically approached the both of you while distributing your respective drinks as you thanked her, appreciating how she did it herself even though you insisted on ordering it—maybe Eunbi wanted you to really talk with Hyewon, and introduce yourself to her in your own way without her influence. “See, babe, Hyewon’s just chill—I knew you’d like her.”

You scoffed as you do agree with Eunbi—your first impression with Hyewon is that she’s mostly introverted and calm, her demeanor most likely intimidating but nonetheless, she’s composed and a little sophisticated, on your own observation. As few more laughs ensued as well as interesting topics that spice up such hooking conversations, you then asked on the most polite manner, on why did Eunbi bring you and Hyewon here and as per Hyewon’s side, is it really appropriate for her to really barge in between the both of you? Isn’t she getting jealous?

Well, Eunbi insisted herself to introduce Hyewon to you so why would she be jealous in the first place? You may doubt that there is a complete absence of jealousy that she can feel—maybe a hint of it, but nonetheless, she isn’t really that sensitive of a girl as she knows how well your boundaries are and how much you love her than anybody else.

“Well, about that…” Eunbi sips on her straw with a nice amount of such sweet concoction of coffee and cream, then continues her response. “Hyewon actually wanted to say something to you, babe so, I hope you don’t mind being on what she’s going to say.”

Hyewon then faces Eunbi as they met eyes, glaring at her as that’s not what she wanted, for now—Hyewon wanted Eunbi to direct her proposition towards you, since Eunbi’s connection to you is eternal and unbreakable, so to Hyewon’s surprise, she didn’t expect Eunbi to really change her mind as it’s too late to retaliate, and all Hyewon could do is speak as your all ears on her.

“But why me?” Hyewon whispers on Eunbi as she encourages her to just say it directly towards you, knowing she wouldn’t lose anything and you, wouldn’t mind anything she will share for you even though you’ve met her just today—it’s maybe the utter reassurance of Eunbi and your comfort towards her and yes, you like her, too.

Of course, you swore until the day you die, that you’ll love Eunbi and she’s the only woman you’ll be with but Hyewon, she’s a different breed in your own opinion—her pretty face is really what got you, brushing off that intimidating demeanor earlier as her impeccable features are pretty similar on what made you love Eunbi even more: sharp nose, oval face, porcelain skin and of course, those, plump lips.

Having the courage built up upon herself, Hyewon composed herself and made it so that you won’t feel any discomfort for her—maybe, thanking Eunbi too for her reassurance to build up such an incredible courage that led up to this moment. “I w-want to feel you, oppa…”

With a sudden embarrassment, Hyewon suddenly covered her face with her hands as she faced against you, sipping her coffee to calm her down as Eunbi scoffed a little, finding Hyewon’s attempts cute yet on the verge of ineffectiveness. Of course, you were baffled on what Hyewon had said towards you as it could mean a lot of things but being enlightened will be better, and Eunbi will do a great job with that because you trust her with all your heart.

“Ahh, babe—I haven’t really talked to you about this, I’m sorry—” Eunbi took another sip, before holding her hands to you, reassuring you that everything’s fine and nothing’s going off-track. “—but aside from introducing her, Hyewon wanted to take this opportunity to—” Eunbi looks left and right, wanting nobody to hear such sinful words except for the both of you and Hyewon as she continues, “—experience such great sex, and I know you’re a great one, babe. So, if you would want to do it with Hyewon, then it’s going to be fine.”

Well, that was all of sudden and you were caught off-guard with it. You know how Eunbi is open when it comes to talking about sexual desires and her wants but you never thought that it would lead to this moment, wanting to have sex with her friend that you barely knew anything about. Such lustful activities with Eunbi isn’t novel between the both of you—that explains how much you’ve railed her tight cunt a week ago that she couldn’t walk a day after and dumped a healthy load down her throat on a restaurant’s restroom three days ago.

Again, you’re not new to this but just in utter shock at how things immediately unfold at the speed of light and knowing how you can see the eagerness in Hyewon’s eyes, you wouldn’t dare to say know but you need further time to discuss things thoroughly. So, excusing Hyewon with Eunbi in the nicest way possible, you then hold Eunbi’s wrist and drag her to the nearest restroom possible, wanting to talk this out as you can’t possibly comprehend what’s happening right now.

---

“You talked about this with Hyewon a long time ago, did you? Is this on purpose?” Your tone is sharp, wanting to question her real actions towards you as you're too flabbergasted to comprehend anything and with Eunbi’s side, she just wants to help her friend on her needs to, and that’s what she needs to explain all thoroughly to you.

“No, babe—I mean, y-yes, she did point it out but I insisted on you being that man for her, she never suggested you but with my assurance, she agreed. I’m sorry if I didn’t talk about this towards you, babe…” Eunbi lets out a sigh of relief as she feels guilty for not letting you know about this first yet your heart crumbles seeing her anxious like this—she’s your kryptonite and can’t bear to see her being on her lowest or in her possible sadness because it breaks your heart into pieces.

“I mean, Eunbi—this is just crazy, no?” Your flummoxed state didn’t help in any of your decisions to come up to a final conclusion. You just shake your head, and licked your lips, thinking of the possible decision to agree with what she offered as Eunbi reassures you right after.

“Yeah, this is crazy babe but are you willing to? It’s alright for Hyewon if you don’t want—” You the interrupt her with a snap of your fingers as she shuts her mouth, now concluding something after a well-observed round of judgment.

“I’ll say it to Hyewon herself, alright, Eunbi?”

She didn’t hesitate to nod as you came up with the right term: to say it in front of her—even though she’ll be pleased or saddened with your rejection, then it’s probably going to be better to say off what you wanted in front of her and without any time to waste, you and Eunbi got out of the restroom—of course, not in a suspicious manner since you know what people’s mind can think of these days—and came up with the final conclusion.

---

“So, maybe…” You let out a deep sigh as you looked at Eunbi, and then averted towards Hyewon again, smiling as she felt assured with your faint grin. “We can do it, as long you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

Your subtle reassurance makes her smile as she can’t believe that you’ll agree with her, as you just wanted to help Hyewon even though you barely knew her, and that is mostly thanks to Eunbi. Not so long after, she interrupts too as she doubles the efforts on making Hyewon trust you as Eunbi herself pretty much involves her trust towards you when having such a loving, steamy session.

“It’s alright, Hyewon—my baby’s a great person to have fun with and she can take care of you as much as he always does to me, so, don’t be scared and trust him, okay?” Hyewon nods with a faint smile curling her lips, then saying an almost-inaudible “thank you” before you can interrupt again and strengthen Eunbi’s assuring remarks. “Yeah, don’t worry, Hyewon—I’ll stop if you want to, okay? As much as proceeding, okay?”

Your brain still can’t help to comprehend such an incredible confession about Hyewon that mostly was helped by Eunbi—you knew something’s fishy right from the start but if a lovely woman of the girl of your life wants something to be fulfilled, then you’ll gladly help her out as this is just the beginning of what could be an insane session and with your coffee’s almost halfway through and wanting to end the day with a paramount of a bliss, then you would likely oblige to your wants as you invited them to go over Eunbi’s place and god, what can they have in store for this evening…

---

Hyewon’s coyness probably tends to allure you and captivate you, yet she fails to fully let you fall under her spell—not to disparage or brush off her natural captivating demeanor by that but it’s just the fact that you’re mostly investing your love towards Eunbi, but maybe, you can be enlightened if Hyewon pulled a great trick up her sleeve.

“Oh, you have such a great place, unnie—woah, this looks better than where I reside, gosh.” Hyewon’s in awe as her eyes wander around the spacious place, starstrucked on how simple yet glamorous this place is in her eyes.

“Isn’t your place great too, Hyewon? I’m sure it’s as good as this…” Eunbi replies back, feeling optimistic that Hyewon’s maybe just overexaggerating things as it’s probably great as she expected. It’s only expectation between the both of them because they haven’t really got the chance to see each other’s places but now, maybe it’s start of the time where everything going to get back on their original tracks—everything just gets unveiled, one by one, and maybe later, will lead to a bigger revelation.

“I doubt it, unnie. I mean, it’s not that bad but yours is better—”

“Ladies…” You interrupt their small talk with your manly voice, startling them a little. “Are we going to compare each other’s places or set ourselves towards the show, hm?”

Eunbi playfully slaps your stomach, as it did little-to-no-pain but regardless, you jokingly caressed it, playing how painful it is in a sarcastic way. “Don’t mind him, Hyewonnie—sometimes, he’s just getting too horny and impatient.”

“Yah! I’m not like that, Eunbi—you’re mostly the one who begs for dear life.” You bat out against her, knowing how those claims are close to being inaccurate and Eunbi’s enthusiasm taking over her, tending to probably over exaggerate things that she shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter where does it end up as both feeling are mutual—she can turn you on within a flick of her fingers as much as you do towards her, and it’s not even close to exerting effort as the both of you magnetize within each other’s touch, the last things you’ll probably see is her body pressed against yours, her heat emanating how needy she is for you.

“Don’t tell you’re not like that too, babe.” Of course, you wouldn’t act such a hypocrite to deny any of those facts as you gave up battling an argument against her.

“Okay, okay, Eunbi—I am, so—” You clicked your tongue as your eyes averted towards them, anticipating what they may have in store for the three of you. “—how are we going to start this off?”

Both of their eyes met together, almost feeling like some telekinetic energy surged through the air as they instantly knew what they wanted to do, especially Hyewon. “Well, maybe I need to say everything we have in plan, babe.”

Eunbi looks up as she tiptoes a little, just to whisper into your ear but god, that sultry, seductive voice never fails to turn you on off the roof. It’s one of your weaknesses that could literally make you submissive or in the best way possible, fall into the darkness—the darkness where it’s a void with only yourself succumbing to lust and there’s no way of returning back to the light. Now, with Eunbi leading the way, you whisper to yourself how great this can be as adrenaline is now pumping down your veins, anticipation finally kicking in to you as the night is still young and it’s only going to start.

---

“Has a man done this to you, Hyewon?” Eunbi traces her dainty fingers up Hyewon’s thighs as she faintly whimper due to the sudden sensitivity she has been teasing her, and for not so long too, Eunbi averted her attention towards you, and voiced exactly what Hyewon wants and with foreplay building up, it should start small.

“What is it, Eunbi?”

“Well, can you stand and then lean against that wall, babe? Thanks, and Hyewon, kneel down in front of him.” Eunbi’s commands didn’t go deaf on both your ears and Hyewon’s as you immediately obliged to her imperative advances. Knowing the words that escaped her lips, you knew exactly what Hyewon would want as you reassure her as she still feels shy but you can see the lust behind it, and it’s only going to get better from here.

“I guess you probably know what she’ll do, babe.”

“Hah—of course I do, Hyewon kneeling down here is pretty obvious.” You respond hubristically and with your confidence and willingness about the anticipating turn of events, Hyewon faintly smiles because of the sudden surge of serotonin spiking up, feeling really confident on what she’s about to show you.

“Aren’t you going to join, Eunbi?”

Eunbi clicks her tongue, cock an eyebrow to you as she smirks, “Well, about that, I would like to observe how Hyewon does it. I’d like to give her everything I always loved and Hyewonnie—” She then squatted to become in level with Hyewon, uttering such words that could enhance the possible masterclass that Hyewon will do. “—don’t rush and make my baby feel good, okay? The most important thing here is the both of you getting pleasured and delighted.”

Eunbi’s such an incredible instructor—you mutter upon yourself as it’s always evident whenever she teaches something to someone or even just you. You love how eager and conspicuous her happiness is when it’s for the better of the people she’s attached with—it feels like she’s a gift from heaven, an angel in disguise as she’s too down-on-earth yet you know deep inside those genuine smiles of hers are the primal lust that she’s been consumed onto, and it’s not even an effort knowing it with the refulgent shining of her orns, full of lust and wants.

“You gotta undress his bottom-half first, Hyewon—I guess you know how to do it right.” With Eunbi’s command comes an immediate obligatory response: you can just see Hyewon’s hands working on unbuckling your belt and the buttons of your pants. You can see her hands shaking a little, knowing it’s her nervousness and to ease her up a little, you helped her to undress your defenses one by one yet Eunbi isn’t a fan of this, clicking her tongue and calling you out.

“Babe, let Hyewon do the job, alright? Just relax and enjoy the show.”

With Eunbi’s straight remarks, Hyewon confirms that she can finish her job herself and doesn’t need your help as she also wanted you to just indulge and voice out your satisfaction.

“You sure, Hyewon?”

“Y-Yes, oppa—I can do this…”

Now with your pants on your ankles, Hyewon’s eyes lit up with the erecting shaft that’s been captivating her under those frustrating garments, and to reassure her further, Eunbi gave her words of encouragement, saying it’s all going to be fine.

“I know this is crazy, Hyewon but trust me—he likes it, alright? All you need to do is to show us how great you can be. Consider this as your training.”

Even though Hyewon is not naïve in these kinds of situations, it still shows how nervous and how she lacks experience but nonetheless, you’re confident that she’ll do good yet you won’t get your expectations high—maybe, a little part of you may swallow those words once she latched her mouth on your swollen head but an action preceding your expectations will conclude your judgment.

Now grabbing the hem of your boxers, Hyewon undresses it as it goes down to your ankles and god, she’s eyeing your meat like she’s going to devour it as her eyes glistening with hunger and lust says enough. Her gorgeous, black orbs analyzes every length that she sees as she coos in amazement, genuinely excited on how your length could feel inside and most importantly, how incredible it looks in front of her.

“Oh my god, unnie…” Hyewon slowly palmed your thighs as she’s still flummoxed with your length, unable to articulate anything but just in awe. “He’s so big…”

Eunbi chuckles as she bites her lips right after, worshiping your succulent meat right on her sight with only her eyes. “He’s indeed big, Hyewon. That’s the most perfect cock you’ll ever laid your eyes upon and you’ll see why I’m so addicted to it…”

Giving the green light to Hyewon, she then wrapped her digits around your rod, feeling how its warmth already made you euphoric as she stroked it a little, a faint moan escaping your lips because of it.

“I’d consider lubricating his shaft with your saliva, Hyewon. You wouldn’t want a man you’re sucking to have a painful burn with rough strokes.” Eunbi suggests towards Hyewon as she’s absolutely right—rough strokes are the bane of your existence as lubrication will make anything feel a hundred times better. With all of that, Hyewon managed to still question something that makes Eunbi a little bit confused.

“But isn’t it not too bad if I stroked it like that, unnie?”

“It’s never bad but the lubrication is still needed, of course. It helps the man and the won’t just excrete fluids on their own. Also—” Eunbi pointed out the slit of your swollen head, leaking with that colorless liquid and with that in sight, she wouldn’t want Hyewon to waste a single drop off that.

“There you go, trace a little of that and taste it. You could suck it if you want more intimacy, Hyewon.”

“Ooh~” Hyewon coos, finding it gratifying tasting one of your treasured nectars as she licks her index finger clean after collecting a desirable amount.

“How did it taste, Hyewon?” Eunbi’s interest is piqued as Hyewon can’t stop squealing, too focused on admiring your shaft with leisure strokes and playful swipes on your head.

“A bit salty, unnie—I like it.” Without wasting any time with just collecting and teasing, her lips then part onto your shaft as she planted wet kisses onto every inch of it, not leaving anything blessed with her intimate pecks. She grew impatient due to her hunger for cock, and eventually, she latched her lips onto your swillen cockhead and started sucking it, your sensitivity now off the roof as it’s actually great considering how much pleasurable it was than what you expected. She swirls her tongue to add up to the heat of the moment and god, she’s a natural at this as she alternates between doing that and sucking just the tip, leaving small streams of saliva on your shaft and some on the corners of her mouth.

With the constant flicks of her tongue onto the frenulum and then going deeper as she gives in to her debauchery masterclass, Hyewon is a gifted woman with a gifted mouth, and she can make you moan like Eunbi can, then it’s just safe to say that she’s incredible at giving you head yet this is only the beginning of a spectacular show that’s about to unfold.

“Such a natural, hm, Hyewon? Why don’t you try and go deeper, hm?” Eunbi fixes her beautifully-tied pigtails, gaining a better leverage onto instructing Hyewon. “He loves it whenever I go deep and hear those moans he makes? That means he’s loving this, so, keep it up…”

Wanting to go deeper herself, she tries what Eunbi wanted her to do as greed took over her, taking your whole length slowly as she bobs her head frantically, eventually gagging on the spot. It’s becoming too much for Hyewon and with that, such a euphoric session has been abruptly stopped, herself ejecting out of your length as she coughs a little, becoming too risky to take it whole and greed putting a nail to the coffin.

“Hyewon, you shouldn’t take his cock like that deep immediately. You should be slow and patient and work your way deeper.” Eunbi caresses Hyewon’s hair as she reassures her and knowing Hyewon wouldn’t give up that easily, she opted to take you in again and following Eunbi’s advice for extreme pleasure and gratification between the both of you. Now, with her patience taking over her, she laps her tongue onto to your tip and took only half of your length in which, resulted into your brain going haywire again due to the pillowy softness of her mouth and the warmth enveloping over it—not to mention the hint of pain cause by the serrated culprit, which is her teeth that lives up to your guilty pleasure of masochism.

She bobs her head at such a moderate pace, unlike the greed earlier that made her suffer from her actions as every second that passes is savored between the both of you, each of your carnal desires slowly corrupting the both of you, descending towards the darkness—that damn darkness akin to the lustful void you’ve dived yourself into. Her hands aren’t idle as she knew the basic fundamentals of a great blowjob: to fondle your balls with care as a little stimulation is enough to make your knees weak and her warm palm sharing its emanating heat within your skin, caressing it slowly as her touch is as tantamount as her mouth giving away the greatest gratification possible. Eunbi is in awe on how she’s doing an incredible job, slobbering all over your length and slurping on it like she’s been deprived on it for months now—technically, that’s the case and whether it’s figurative or literal, it’s always evident how a girl is hungry for something with the sounds that resonates around your ear.

“God, you look so fucking hot sucking his dick, Hyewonnie. Look at yourself too—” Eunbi averted her eyes towards the mess Hyewon has created all over her clothes, her cleavage and her mouth, such drool capable for any person to think how much Hyewon is enjoying the succulent taste of your shaft as Eunbi was right, Hyewon’s going to be addicted by this for dear life. Eunbi continues to stroke Hyewon’s dark locks as she praises her because of her incredible work and with her confidence going up, she’s now introducing an incredible pace as she hollows her cheeks for a vacuum-like suction, taking more than a half of your length now and frantically bobbing her head, signaling how she’s giving in to primal urges and desires. She slobbered all over your dick like it’s her last, and savored every moment of it, even if it means for her to gag multiple times yet even though she fights the urge to pull out, she inevitably can’t as she ejects her warm mouth out of your raging length, coughing a little as the mess she’s made is now copious than it was earlier—her lipstick smudging onto the vicinity of the base of your shaft, strings of saliva connected onto your swollen head and then her mouth, and her makeup running down her cheeks due to the tears of her constant gags from earlier, making her a disheveled mess.

“You a-alright, Hyewon?” You grew concerned as she seems struggling to breathe because of her hostile nature on slobbering over your length that oxygen became the profound enemy yet she states that she’s fine, and that makes sigh in relief.

“Oppa’s c-cock is just too b-big to handle…”

Eunbi laughs as she smiles at Hyewon, knowing that she’ll soon say that as it’s damn true—even Eunbi struggles to tame that beast within you, even with plethora of times that she’s taken you down her throat, she still constantly struggles due to the gifted length and girth you have. Of course, not even Hyewon complains but rather, loving it because of how she can manage to push her limits off to what she can possibly do, and you, a great example to help her with that.

“It’s alright, Hyewon. You’re a natural at this—keep that up and make him cum, alright? I know he’s pretty close…” Eunbi cocks an eyebrow at Hyewon, signaling her to give everything she has as you know you’re near on your release yourself—and it’s pretty impressive how Eunbi knows how near your approaching orgasmic trance will be, considering how your relationship and herself knowing tiny details about you makes up to her accurate prediction. Maybe it’s not even a prediction at this point, more so, a gut feeling and the visible throbbing of your shaft making her know of your near release and god, it’s just awfully close.

Hyewon isn’t just going to stare at your dick like it’s a long-lost artifact she piqued her interest in, yet instead, she converts that arousal into actions as she continues to suck you off, like a popsicle that can’t get enough. With her constant fondling of your sensitive balls and her ruthless pace onto your shaft, you can’t possibly contain the profanities escaping your mouth as you voice how great Hyewon’s oral service is and with those green lights being muttered, she picks up the pace and further brings you in closer to your high. Her feverish strokes onto the base of your shaft further puts you on the edge of release as Eunbi encourages Hyewon to keep up the good work as she bites her lip in satisfaction, feeling gratified with erotic sight of Hyewon gagging and slobbering over his boyfriend’s perfect cock.

“Also, Hyewon, make eye contact with him. That’s important because with your eyes, you can portray multiple emotions all at once.” Such striking details won’t get passed by Eunbi’s judgmental approach towards the eroticism the both of you emanate and again, it’s goddamn true—such an intimate and endearing look between the both of you can indeed portray a plethora of emotions that can rather increase the quality of pleasure. With Eunbi’s advice, Hyewon then locks her gaze onto yours as all you can see is how engaged she is, full of lust as every bob portrays her willingness to do this and your anticipated load.

It wouldn’t last that long even if you want to savor her warmth for hours as suddenly, your dam broke loose.

“Fuck, I’m g-gonna cum, Hyewon, Eunbi—fuck, shit!”

Now with Hyewon still blowing you with a ruthless face, Eunbi formulates an idea faster than the speed of light as her oral expertise comes into play, offering a proposition. “Pull out if you want him to paint your face or keep bobbing if you want his load deep down your throat, okay, Hyewon?”

Hyewon eagerly nods as she keeps sucking you off, signaling that she wants your load as deep as possible. She then submerges her whole mouth onto your length, up to the back of her throat as she gags constantly but Eunbi guides her, her hands pushing Hyewon’s head until her lips meet the base of your shaft, reaching incredible depths that she thought was nigh-impossible. Now, with Hyewon’s hands gripping your thighs onto dear life and her tight throat constricting around your length, you couldn’t hold it much longer as you shoot thick spurt if your delectable seed, filling it up to the brim as she takes it all like a good girl, despite her constant gagging and her breaths being restricted because of your whole length. Eunbi didn’t influence much, as she lets go of her grip on Hyewon’s head as soon as you voice out your blissful release and ultimately, you do short thrusts into her mouth to keep your orgasm extended but the inevitable will soon happen as it slowly dies, catching your breath from your euphoric trance. Hyewon then pulls out immediately as Eunbi directs her to not swallow it yet and commends her excellent blowjob yet of course, Eunbi not utterly impressed (she still appreciates Hyewon’s efforts but not that much) as she didn’t get her expectation up, since Hyewon isn’t really used to this but nonetheless, she showed her great capabilities and her natural talent.

“Don’t swallow and stick your tongue out to him. Show him the healthy load he has given you.” Again, for like the hundredth time, Hyewon does as she's been told, sticking out her tongue towards you as she’s proud about the creamy load you gave her and with her innocent eyes building up the oxymoron of this filthy mess she has gone into. Now, incredibly aroused and in awe with her beautiful, disheveled visage, you then commanded her to swallow as Eunbi didn’t mind it, knowing you have the control over her too and god, her face and its expression after eagerly swallowing your creamy load is such an arousing as you couldn’t ask more.

This was just one of the few things they have up their sleeve and you’re absolutely into the game, wanting more as your carnal desires are the obvious culprits of your horniness.

“Did it taste good, Hyewon?”

“It d-does, unnie—it’s so creamy and a l-little sweet…” She replies back with a faint smile on her face, still catching her breath due to the intense blowjob session that has ensued.

“Hyewon—I c-can’t believe you’re a natural at this.” Of course, you can’t really comprehend how good she is as you didn’t expect her to be this daring and great and you wouldn’t complain for various and obvious reasons. With your compliment, Hyewon blushed a little as she felt grateful being constantly acknowledged with her skills yet of course, you can see the lust burning on her eyes as she wanted more, and you wouldn’t dare to really stop her on that because you wanted more yourself.

“Well, maybe it’s time for the main event, babe…” Eunbi then stood up from her previous kneeling position as Hyewon does it too right after, knowing what the future may hold once Eunbi said those specific words.

“Are you sure with this, Hyewon?” You still feign hesitance, knowing that it may seem uncomfortable with Hyewon and maybe even Eunbi that you’re going to have some filthy sex with her friend yet all of your thoughts contradicts on what they want—Eunbi insisted you to have her own permission for the best experience for her friend and Hyewon, starting this alone means that she’s comfortable with you and it grew better considering how your small moans of pleasure increased her confidence and your reassurance that made her feel better.

“See, Hyewon wants it, babe—don’t keep her waiting.” Noticing how eager Hyewon had been, she then puts a little bit of a show in front of you, stripping her clothing so leisurely that it’s agonizing to watch considering you want to see her impeccable features badly, as soon as possible. Knowing this, Eunbi has a different thought in mind and decides to step in to the show, interrupting her Hyewon’s spectacular masterclass as you frowned a little because of it.

“No, Hyewon, I think my baby needs to strip for you, how about that?” Being enlightened with Eunbi’s proposition, Hyewon herself can’t really turn that down because that thought alone arouses her, and with her pleading eyes captivating you to do what Eunbi has told, you didn’t hesitate to fulfill everyone’s needs as you came up to Hyewon, inching dangerously close towards her as you palm the straps of her brown, cotton dress and lets gravity do the work, letting it run a little, dropping it below her shoulders. You can feel her hot breath against yours as she voiced her satisfaction with the way you’re stripping her—slowly and surely, unbuttoning her dress one by one as you whisper how good she's been earlier and in return, she voice how juicy and addicting you were.

“I guess you’re so gifted, oppa—your cock is amazing—oh fuck…”

“You’re a natural too, Hyewon. Maybe a few more improvements then you’ll be on par like your unnie.”

With the heated tension between the both of you, Eunbi manages to bat out how incredibly arousing the sight is, sharing how that’s probably the sight between you and Eunbi everytime the both of you get sexually heated against each other.

“That’s how hot we probably look when we get heated, right, babe?”

“Yeah, Eunbi—kinda want to see the sight too but I guess I don’t need it anymore.” Well, it’s evident and obvious because you’re literally in the front seat of a splendid show between you and Hyewon. Now, with the last button restraining her to let her impeccable beauty be visible with your eye, you slowly unbuttoned and god, you’re instantly blessed with her hourglass figure and a scrumptious sight of her tight body: slender, small waist flexing a little of her abdominal muscles, her perky yet large mounds that’s been contained with a brown, strapless bra and her probably dripping pussy covered with a brown-laced thong, that’s complimenting the colors of her outfit. You were starstrucked with her incredible figure as much as Eunbi is, and with that, you can’t help but palm her hips and admire every inch of her delectable features, probably mouth-watering at the sight of it and imprinting a picture on your mind.

“Foreplay is part of having a great session of sex, Hyewon. So, if he caresses and feels her touch all over your body, feel free to voice out how good it is, okay?”

Hyewon nods as you start to strip the last defenses concealing her pure beauty, flicking and letting everything run from her smooth skin and gravity doing the work. With her last bit of clothing now onto the floor, deeming it useless, you take a look to admire her beautiful features again but this time, her apparent nipples and her glistening pussy is now visible, making you even riled up as your cock inevitably twitches from the sight. You then undress your clothing, making everything mutual between the both of you and as you do so, you ask Eunbi another question that will surely intrigue her and make everything even spicier.

“Don’t you want to join us, Eunbi?”

“Yeah, unnie—it would be really good if you join us here with us.‘

As much as Eunbi wants to join, there are two things that are stopping her from her desires and it’s for the better on all parties: firstly, she wanted to instruct Hyewon what’s the best ways to make the session best for both worlds and some techniques that can make her a greater fuck; and second, she badly wanted to watch someone having sex and any sexual activities as that thought (not anymore) turns her on incredibly well that she just wants to watch everything unfolds within her eyes’ reach—talk about peak voyeurism, then its paramount on her mind right now.

“I’d rather watch and make the best of Hyewon, but thanks though—hey, proceed, babe…”

You’re quicker than a predator catching prey, your clothes now off and deeming it useless as you approach Hyewon, pinning her slowly as you grasp her waist and onto the bed. Hyewon trusts you with all her heart as her eyes glistens with need and you immediately can sense how much she wanted this for a long time, so, without depriving her from your touch, you brush your swollen head onto her labia, teasing her as she cries in her own sensitivity and utmost pleasure. Wanting to build up the anticipation and to be gentle with her, you further tease her glistening lips and this time, adding some fingers to stimulate her further, her moans now increasing in volume because of the pleasure coursing down her veins.

“May I, Hyewon?” Your hands then coursed its way onto the bedsheets and then, towards her stomach, as you asked her permission for mutual understanding and agreement.

“Please d-do, oppa—oh gosh, fu—fuck…” Given the green light, you immediately palmed a handful of her breasts as you fondle them, caressing her mounds and feeling its softness is such an addicting act and with that, you can’t really find yourself to let go of it and continue what you’re best at. Her moans really fuels you to let out your deepest desires, stimulating her further as you latch your mouth onto her neck, giving it small pecks that lets her know how much you’re loving this and of course, to further elevate the heat emanating around the bedroom.

“Let it all out, Hyewon—let your voice be the fuel for him to further fuck you and babe—” Eunbi palms your skin, from the back as she leisurely ran her hands down your buttcheeks, caressing it as her touch further arouses you. She didn’t waste a single second and voice out what’s the best for the both of you. “—give her the fucking she absolutely deserves, alright? Want to see how you’ll ruin an incredibly beautiful girl like her…”

With Eunbi’s green light and the urge to further indulge to your own primal debauchery, you further inform Hyewon that it’s about time for the climax as she doesn't even hesitate to nod and agree and with a single flash of light, you plunge your length slowly inside her. The both of you groaned in the mix of pain and pleasure, as each other’s elements of a great, pleasurable intercourse checks all boxes and it’s just way too euphoric to be true. You now start to ensue such a sluggish pace, moving your hips in tandem with her angelic moans that bless everybody’s ears as you grasp her shoulders for a leverage onto a better quality of your thrusts.

“God—Hyewon, you’re so fucking tight—oh fuck!”

“You’re b-big too, oppa—ahh, oh my—ahh, fuck!!”

As you voice out such intense spikes of pleasure and lustful feeling against each other, Eunbi then voiced how incredible the sight is and how goddamn arousing to watch your length suddenly disappearing inside her wet folds as it hypnotizes her, the slow movements you’re ensuing finally making her realize how hot to watch sex scenes with you are.

“Damn, babe—look at her eyes. She’s starting to see stars at this point, god—also, keep that pace for now babe and Hyewon—” Hyewon then averted her eyes towards Eunbi that just had joined on the bed, feeling too much pleasure and drowsy as Eunbi stroked her hair again, making her feel reassured that she’s taking you well and that alone, makes her plant a smile of satisfaction. “—you’re doing good, okay? Keep that up and it’s only to get better from here.”

She then holds your arms for leverage to fight the pleasure and to further admire the filthy mess that has been created since the time you’ve plunged your entire length in her. The constant jiggles of her buttcheeks and her thighs makes such an arousing sight as it hypnotizes you and to top off with that, her cunt spills her treasured nectar very often that it’s getting much easier to thrust inside her in an incredible pace and of course, to coat the vicinity of your nether regions with Hyewon’s own fluids. With a newly-profound pace, you kept your mind clouded onto giving her such a spectacular feeling as every thrust does wonder on both your brains, mostly Hyewon’s since it has been a while since she had one and god, the faces she makes and the eye contact she does whenever you withdraw, and then slammed back in her is alluring and arousing.

With a paramount of an erotic sight being done thanks for the both of you, Eunbi can’t even help herself from getting turned on and decided to take this as an opportunity to derive pleasure from it. You didn’t even see Eunbi, nor even sense her stripping her clothing as you’re too busy giving Hyewon such hammering thrusts that makes her escape more alluring and sexy moans that just add up to the gasoline of the flames of lust inside you. Because of your rampant oscillations, Hyewon couldn’t contain anything as she’s on the verge of screaming because of the incredible surge of pleasure running down on her. She then wrapped her legs all around your waist in order to lock in with your thrusts and to not pull out, wanting her cunt constantly rammed in with your whole length as the wet squelching of it even adds to the symphony of erotic sounds that became music to each other’s ears.

With such a sinful sight of event turning into a pandemonium of filthy events and cacophonous sounds of moans and groans, it wouldn’t take long for the room to get heated up onto its hottest state as the constant clashing of bodies became apparent and made such a big difference. You didn’t even got the chance to know if Eunbi is still there on your back, watching the both of you—maybe even her presence alone—as you became so invested with Hyewon’s tight cunt that you could literally fuck her for days.

Well, that could be possible but we don’t know if Eunbi can even agree on that, or maybe even Hyewon herself.

“Fuck m-me harder, oppa—please—fuck!!”

You then double the efforts of your thrusts as her legs pull you even closer towards hers, initiating an intimate kiss that made her realize how she’s been deprived of this and how badly she wanted this. You immediately reciprocate onto the kiss as Eunbi even encourages the both of you to up the ante of the liplock, now sharing such intimacy and torrid pecks that further heats up the environment of this puny room.

“Love how his lips feel, Hyewon?” Eunbi asks with a smirk painting her face and eagerly, Hyewon nodded as it became the immediate response from hers as they completely indulge into the intimacy of the kiss but eventually, they pull out because of the oxygen running out. You didn’t waste time as you came back to your original pace, withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming back in, making her whimper in need and the utmost pleasure. You then thrust in her hard enough for your balls to slap against her constantly clenching puckered hole as you eye onto it, wanting that to be the next target as the thought of railing her from behind and fucking her ass is such an arousing though—well, you should probably focus on further onslaught of harsh thrusts into Hyewon’s wet, tight hole begging for another load because of its constant clenches.

You know how close she is as Eunbi can sense it too—her constant whimper in need and her eyes begging to sully her are one of the strongest evidences that someone fully-indulge themselves onto their own carnal desires and soon enough, she will be gifted because you can feel that familiar sensation in your loins knocking onto the door of your damn, about to break it apart and let everything loose again.

“Fuck her harder, baby—she’s about to cum and look at her—fuck, you look so fucking hot getting fucked into oblivion, Hyewon.”

Hyewon can’t really articulate to say anything now as the pleasure she’s been experiencing is on it's all-time high—you couldn’t blame her and neither can Eunbi: herself getting pounded into an absolute state of bliss is an evident reason for her unable to think straight and knowing the inevitable will soon come, you gave her the best final thrusts your hips can muster.

“Oppa—I’m g-gonna c-cum—ahh, fuck!!”

“God—m-me too, Hyewon—fuck, this pussy is—ahh, fuck!”

Eunbi is in utter shock, is surprised with two things—she didn’t think that Hyewon would last this long with an incredible dick of yours and second and this is where she was genuinely surprised, is the fact that you’re going to cum pretty earlier than what she expected.

Enough of that talk, with a few more thrusts, Hyewon immediately moaned out beautifully as she voices her euphoric high, creaming onto your cock like it’s her last as her thighs quiver in every spasm she does when attaining her orgasm. Her nectar immediately coated everything in its vicinity: the bed sheets, your balls, your constantly-pumping length and both of your thighs and clearly too arousing to handle and it’s such a sight to behold and treasure. Your high, didn’t come late as she locks her legs around your waist, wanting you to fill her up to the hilt as you do so, burying your entire length in her as you let out series of pleasure-laced moans and of course, shooting thick shots of your seed inside her tight, velvety cunt. You could just feel yourself submerging onto the euphoric state of bliss, the highest amongst all gratification as you can’t comprehend how good it felt and after it slowly died, you slowly pulled out of her tightness and watch your hard work seep out of her freshly-fucked pussy.

“God—t-that was a lot, babe…”

After comprehending the sudden pleasure you just indulge yourself into, you then quickly come back to your senses as when you’re going to apologize, Hyewon interrupts you with a reassuring smile as she wanted this all along.

“Don’t w-worry, oppa—I wanted this and I took a pill before t-this.”

So, she knew this may work long ago? Why did Eunbi get to make it clandestine against you?—These thoughts wander around your brain yet dismiss them as soon as you see how a show-stopper Hyewon’s sight is: completely ruined, a disheveled mess and enervated because of your own doings. Knowing how great Hyewon took you in, Eunbi smiled at her proudly, happy for her to experience such an elevating act that’s more than greatness thanks to you.

“It feels good right, Hyewon?”

“Yeah, u-unnie—hah, oppa’s so good…” Hyewon exasperatedly voiced out how great the session was as she fell limp, recovering from her recent high all achieved thanks to you. Eunbi then smiled at you with glee because of what you gave her friend for and she’s happy that everybody’s needs has been fulfilled yet of course, Eunbi herself wouldn’t just be the audience of your own show, she would like to be the part of it and there’s no better feeling in the whole world rather than fulfilling such needs of these hot women in front of you and maybe, it’s just going to get better from here.

“You can lay down, Hyewon and watch us—” Eunbi undresses her clothes swiftly as she brushes her hair hubristically as her confidence peaks off the roof. “—because I’ll show you how real freaks get to fuck each other.”

Well, of course, it’ll end up here and like you said earlier, the night is still young and with that being said, maybe everything is just going to get better from here as there’s more opportunities up your sleeves and it will all start within somebody.

#kinknuary 2024 #kang hyewon smut #hyewon smut #kwon eunbi smut #eunbi smut #kang hyewon x male reader #hyewon x male reader #kwon eunbi x male reader #eunbi x male reader

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magpie-murder · 5 months

Text

it'd be wild if they gave asgard's citizens phones in marvel i bet they'd have the best drama

20 notes

👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet

No.

#date: 2023/11/23 #when will he croak #i've been running this blog for centuries #frigga for allfather #kick the bucket already i'm getting bored of posting here

112 notes

⛈️ god-of-thunder

I come to Tumblr with a regretful update. As you may know, my family and our fiercest warriors have been traveling between realms in search of our stolen relics.

While attempting to recover one, my brother lost his life in battle while protecting us. He shielded me with his body. My brother died a hero.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

May he reach Folkvangr. My deepest condolences. But I thought Baldur was impervious to all harm...?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

It was Loki. :( I'm devastated.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Oh.

🐍 magic-theatre

is that all you can muster? "oh." you thought i was dead, and that's it? that's all you have? what do you mean by that? let's talk. :)

⛈️ god-of-thunder

You're alive? Where are you?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Wait, what happened to @einherjarl? He deactivated?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Loki?

23,034 notes

🎨 bragis-apprentice

Just finished custom making this handle

#metalwork #artists on tumblr #double sided axe #my art

2 notes

⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Lady Sif is not one of The Warriors Three. It says it in the name. There are three of them. Not four.

Correct this.

✨️ the-dashingest

I voted for Sif.

🪓 valiant-festivals

I voted for Sif.

🔺️ grim-warrior

I voted for Sif.

✨️ the-dashingest

Wait, Hogun? But you didn't tell us you had a phone?

🔺️ grim-warrior

I don't.

#lady sif propaganda #lightning round #poll reblog #only one more round after this! #i'm so glad lady sif doesn't have tumblr lol #i hope you guys dont mind that a mortal is running this blog btw #i really didnt expect any of you to see this 😬 #and srry for the reblog spam #also hogun lol

1,879 notes

🐍 magic-theatre

i see your thirst edits, you sick freaks.

#start tagging me in them #and/or sending them to me

689 notes

⛵️ modern-technologist Follow

umm i'm in ohio to visit my parents and there's like. um . a giant wolf running alongside my car? i'd call animal control but this thing is ginormous and i don't think that would do anything.

it doesnt have a leash or anything (obv its bigger than my car) but it's covered in chains. what do i do??

@identifying-d𝚘gs-in-posts ??

🐕 identifying-dogs-in-posts Follow

Fenrir Lokison?

#😨

197 notes

✨️ the-dashingest

I really don't think Loki is that bad. Sure, he's had a rocky history, but I don't think he's done anything worthy of scorn. Besides, hasn't he just died and come back or something like that, anyway? He has a blank slate, in my book.

#is it just me? #i hear people saying we should banish or kill him #i find that idea preposterous #he's just misunderstood

208 notes

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

I'm not going to @ them, but ugh... Someone I'm acquainted with just died in battle, and honestly? I'm so relieved. Is that terrible? Don't answer that, I know that it is. I'll probably delete this in a few hours.

🐍 magic-theatre

that's what you get for vagueing.

cowards don't go to valhalla.

10,560 notes

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow Sponsored with Blaze 🔥

buy my potions! i'm having a Thor's Day sale! you can get an invisibility concoction for only 3 gold today! cheapest prices in the market! don't let that einar guy force you to pay 230 gold for a wyvern tooth when you can purchase an authentic one HERE from my brand new online shop

#alchemists on tumblr #all natural potions #freelance potion seller #potion grinds #handmade potions #potionmaker #potion seller #invisibility potion #wyvern tooth #einar has competition #stay hustling 💪 #please check out my shop link i worked really hard on it #:) #:))

#i know they're all ooc i was just trying to amuse myself #loki #thor #fandral the dashing #moon queen and magic theatre #loki marvel #marvel thor #marvel asgard #marvel #thor odinson #dashboard simulator #the warriors three #odin allfather

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welcomingdisaster · 5 months

Text

years of the trees tumblr dashboard simulator

🦜filitárifinds Follow

second mingling soft mouse

🌸 drunkinalqualonde Follow

second mingling soft mouse reblog for peace and comfort always

🌧️ hailxrainxstars Follow

i can't scroll past the mingling mouse

🪻dancer_spirit Follow

guys it's literally opening hour

🦦 whatabotterit Follow

opening hour will end but mingling mouse is forever

#sighs #i suppose i must reblog #second mingling soft mouse

( 12990 notes )

🌻sweetflowersofspring Follow

spilled all the seed pods at yavanna's temple and accidentally sa-si'ed in front of my crush (who only ever uses Þ 😭) and now i come home and learn the hounds have come loose and run off to chase the wild hunt... can i just get whatever queen miriel died from it's too late for me now folks

🔥lordoflight Follow

Explain to me how and why you think it's okay to joke about that.

#idiots online #disrespect #upsetting

( 12 notes )

🌳 twotreesdaily Follow

Yet another image which fails to capture the majesty and beauty of Laurelin, yet in its imperfection reveals the grandness and completeness of that design, which none shall surpass.

#perfection #beauty #tree #merging of light and life #the valar #gold #symbol of eternal youth and the divine feminine #wow

( 299 notes )

🐾 awwooooo Follow

join the wild hunt we've got deer jerky

🐾 awwooooo Follow

also orgies

🐾 awwooooo Follow

but seriously so much deer jerky there's too much someone please take some

( 188 notes )

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

normalize taking naps and being so so sleepy

🗡️fireson5 Follow

That literally kills people.

🪺 maidenwithoutacause Follow

that was ONE time

#sorry op but it's literally 100% of our mortality rate he's got a point

( 355 notes )

🦢 silversmith Follow

"nolofinwë's right" this "curufinwë's right" that ... do we ever talk about how arafinwë just fucked off to to drink cocktails on the beach in alqualondë and married the hottest elf-maiden in all of aman? icon for this

( 82 notes )

Based on your likes!

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

any girls want to go to the macalaurë feanorian orchestral and exchange kisses under the starlight....

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

perhaps tenderly grasp each other's hands

🐞 bugdaughter Follow

... unwed

#not safe for tumblr #horny posting

( 19 notes )

🕊️ justsomevanya Follow

okay wondering if i'm weird

#polls #haha is it just me

( 58 notes )

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

gotta be real it's sad to see cancel culture coming for melkor he's done his time let him live

🌄 smithworkirl Follow

bestie he's a war criminal

🎶freepeoplefreesong Follow

he's coming to my house party tomorrow ✌️ peace and love

#seriously tho unfollow me if you think people can't change #the light is healing and cleanses all #don't you believe in redemption

( 31 notes )

⛰️ 12elves3kings

prince turukáno house of nolofinwë. you agree. reblog.

( 67 notes )

#someone take my laptop i'm addicted to making these #silly shit tag #silmarillion #lena speaks

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laurzzz · 27 days

Text

Robo-Boyfriends AU (My Sona Version) - Effort

Woe word-less comic be upon ye! I think it's very fitting with my sona being mouthless LMAO. I haven't worked on RBAU in a short while so take this thingy before I continue to work on MO again :thumbsup::thumbsup:

Explanation/vent under the cut (it's VERY long, so know you've been warned)

I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending it doesn't affect me at all. I'm tired of not wanting to express genuine frustration on my blog. I've been trying my best to keep my blog and every other platform I have as a place of escape for myself. I want it to only be filled with mostly good and optimistic things. I already get enough crap and more in my private life, I don't want to see reminders of them in places where I want to escape. Which is why I've been pretending to not see the numbers, that I don't feel under appreciated, that I don't vent as much when I want to or when I do I'm quick to delete them.

I know that many artists online go through this and have expressed their frustration on this experience-- where they put in so much effort and time on their works and they barely get any feedback or interactions or when they do get feedback it's often on the works they don't even put that much effort in. I love RBAU and Cloud Nine.. they're my AUs that basically gained the most traction here but the time and effort I gave to making those comics and random pieces of gradient-themed drawings don't even compare to the rendered pieces or the animated works I've made for them.

As much as I appreciate the reblogs and comments on the posts that reached so many people, I often wonder why it's always the works that I didn't put my all into. It makes me feel discouraged... not in continuing to draw or make creative work, but to actually put in more effort. But if I'd do that--stop putting in more effort-- then I would only make myself even more miserable as I don't like stagnation. I hate stagnation. I hate getting bored of the things that mean so much to me. Sharing my art and improving on it means too much to me.

But it's weird because I tend to observe the interactions with other blogs. They look to put in so much effort and make such beautiful rendered pieces that I adore and yet they are appreciated as deserved. While there are artists who make "shitposts" (their words) who also gain so much traction and appreciation. This observation makes the voices in my brain start correlating the quality of my work to the interactions. If I'm being completely transparent, I get these thoughts a lot. But I also don't believe them. I don't want to believe them.

Before anyone starts saying "ohhh you shouldn't attach your appreciation of your work from external factors" etc etc-- I KNOW. I am FULLY aware. I'm completely aware and have rationalized this situation over and over. That this is just how the internet goes. That these are factors I don't have control over. That my work is gold and it doesn't have to be determined as such by numbers. That someday the people who appreciate my works will find me. I. Know.

Still, knowing these things doesn't make the feelings disappear. It's like I want to be mad, and cry at the same time but also understand that I just can't really do anything about this but let it be. It's as if the more I care about a project, the less likely people will. I don't want to pretend like I don't care about a project just for it to be appreciated. But I also don't want to feel as if I'm not getting as much appreciation or attention that I think my work deserves.

I've been experimenting with my works and how I post them here on Tumblr and on YT since last year. The ones that are shitposts are seriously what gets more attention AHAHAHA I am laughing with frustration. Look, I love making memes and poking fun with characters as much as the next viewer and artist but by god. I can't just keep churning out funny haha low substance stuff in exchange for interactions. That's not the kind of artist that I am. I like making things that has lore; that has depth to them. Like how I tend to make lore heavy AUs right after getting my silly, lighthearted works blow up just to remind myself that the relationship I have with my works will not grow if I keep chasing after the interactions, the numbers by prioritizing quantity over quality.

Or maybe people just don't like my ideas? I guess that's a possibility too. Maybe my ideas just don't resonate with people enough. It's not "consumable" enough. Or maybe they don't like my art/writing/animation style. Yet more factors that's out of my control. But I also get told that people like my art, my writings, my animations. And they mean so, so much to me. But it just doesn't add up sometimes, y'know? If people like my work and stick around because they like my art no matter the fandom then why don't I see it? Thoughts like these make me feel so ungrateful actually.

I'm sure there are many people who look up to me as an artist and think how "popular" I am. I've been told this so many times. And yet, I don't feel either of those as strongly. Hell, even as I type this long vent out, I feel like people will not even care. Or worse. Perhaps they may think I'm focusing on the wrong things or think I'm being insecure and jealous of other people's well-deserved appreciation from others.

For the record, I am not. I think every single (actual, not AI) artists put in so much effort and love to their own works most of the time and if they get appreciation for it then I'm sure as hell that they've been seeking for it too and now that they're getting it and it's there then they should bask in it and rejoice. They really should.

Sigh. This is getting far too long. I'll stop here. I hope my words and my thoughts came out clearly. I'm writing this out late at night. Don't worry, I'll still be putting in the effort I've been putting in lately. I'm still going to work on MO, and give my best to make Assassin Eclipse's design to be as on par with Assassins Sun and Moon. I'm still going to write and continue the lore in the fic. I'm still going to animate the lore-heavy Welcome Home animation I've been working on slowly day by day. I just wanted to let this all out. Venting it to my friends just seem to not be enough. I gotta express it where people can see it. I think this is just my last straw too. I've been holding out for so long and 2024 really hasn't been that kind to me lately that I just can't anymore.

Anyway, the next post will be much lighter, I promise.

#sorry i focused too much on my dca related works but this also applies to all the other fandom stuff ive created on here and on YT #oh also #thank you and shout out to xit #i was having doubts on posting this before i sleep tonight #but her recent answered ask unintentionally gave me courage #hey xit! if you see this i think youre cool #robo-boyfriends au #but with my sona instead of y/n #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf daycare attendant #laursdraws #cw vent

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submariini · 7 months

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When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

#käärijä #jere pöyhönen #eurovision #the article in full

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acheronist · 9 days

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to the ghost of henry peglar, congrats on writing your poem down 177 years ago!!!

to the actual academic scholars who have studied the pages before me....

so I took the royal museum greenwich's scan of the poem page (which is available online hereeee) and screwed around with its light levels in photoshop until henry's script was darkened enough to see more clearly. then I digitally traced over the darkened letters as best as I could, while also trying to discern his handwriting, and type up how I was reading it & this process took me about a week to get done between like... living my regular day to day life lmao.......

so when it WAS done, the final isabel acheronist peglar papers ["the open C"] transcript seemed a bit different than how I remembered the readily available russell potter transcript going ? (the poem is on the last two pages of that pdf for those of you who don't spend a billion hours a week looking at it btw)

it felt like I was getting more/different information out of it, compared to the potter transcript, which was kind of stressing me out honestly. so THEN I compared mine with barry cornwall's original poem and found more words that matched up? particularly in the second and third stanzas?

so!!!!! almost two hundred years later here's what I've landed on:

April 21 1847 the C the C the open ) ( it grew so fresh the Ever free the Ever free the Ever free without it without it covered it will Run to Earth above Re gions Round I love the C I love the C when I whare & I wish to be with and and silence whare Never go if a sailor should a Come and Make the meek What matter what matter Come Ride Or Sleep there was shores white and of red morn at the noisy hours knew I was ever near I was Born the [...] in felt Unto the Maid the wale the young dolphin ...... yet thes back of gold the Call of gods When I was on Old England Shore I like the young C more and more oftentimes time flew to a sweltering place like a bird thats seeks it mother Case and ware she was bird oft to me for have I loved a young and Hopen C

so then after going thru All Of That, I wanted to have a version of the original poem with parts that Henry did remember clearly highlighted for comparison purposes:

I know it's a popular theory that Henry was writing a dirty parody of the original poem? which if true, is funny as hell. me when i have to write cheeky victorian porn before i die.

But (serious voice) something about that hadn't ever seemed exactly right to me... IN MY HEART it seems more realistic that around 1847 he (and also by extension, the whole surviving expedition crew) were starting to experience confusion / brain fog symptoms from being ummmm quite physically unwell. the lead poisoning/scurvy combo would have severe effects on the brain's ability to function properly, and I started to wonder if Henry was trying to test his memory somehow? So he picked a widely known and popular Victorian era poem about being a sailor to see how much he could recall??? and he then got a little whimsical with it, and wrote in his own words to fill in the portions he couldn't fully recall, because it's his own diary and likely didn't expect anyone else to ever read it, much less have it turn into ONE of TWO surviving sources about the expedition?????

like... idk... this is probably the work of someone in the exact moment as they were starting to realize how bad things were, and then was trying to cope by using poetry. and That hurts my feelings enough as it is, but going through it was also just a very weird and haunting experience....... like, I can recognize all these tiny details in this dead guy's script and handwriting now. and to read his own account of his life in his own words, what stood out to him and what he recalled, what he wanted people in the future to know about him? insane. it literally felt like i was getting haunted by him for no reason. on top of knowing that Someone (#teamarmitage) loved this guy enough to keep his memory protected and safe, even though They Were So Totally Fucked And Going To Die There, unknowing if they'd ever be found again........

SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + SIGHING + CRYING A BIT HONESTLY

anyways thanks for reading this all. I don't think that this is revolutionary franklin expedition news by any means, and idk if there's a better different transcript somewhere that i've not found that already covers all this? but it's consumed a lot of my life lately lol and i wanted to share. because its the anniversary of henry writing it, and it felt...... important....? 💌....????

#📜#henry peglar #this is my crazy person post i wanted to make two weeks ago #i really did do my best to follow his hand btw but let's all read this expecting a few mistakes #franklin expedition #peglar papers

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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i learn a staggering amount of things just being in nature and paying attention to what's going on. Things that are obvious are seldom written down so they can be found where people look. I get stressed out that people don't know things. It's dire that they have to be taught at all.

I'm watching everything prepare for winter. Well, not watching. I'm gathering seeds, preparing beds, labeling seed packets. The leaves are falling, the flowers are dying back.

I was surprised to see how long seeds will just hang out on withered plants, instead of being eaten or falling or blowing away. Acorns and nuts cover the forest floor. Hackberries cling to trees throughout winter. Seeds are produced in wild abundance.

It's difficult not to assign purpose to these things—the plants produce seeds and nuts so the birds and animals don't go hungry. It's discouraged to view nature as having some kind of purposeful agency.

The leaves cover the ground now in deep drifts. I learned that moths and butterflies sleep through winter in fallen leaves.

How did I not know that? How was this not important enough to be taught?

Homeowners seem to think of leaves as a nuisance. It's common practice to rake them into piles and burn them or bag them up to be sent to landfills. This is horrifyingly wasteful, on top of destroying the insects that hibernate in them. Fallen leaves are pure gold, a vital source of nourishment and insulation for the soil. Rotting leaves mulch and fertilize the forest floor.

Fallen leaves don't just nourish, they protect. I found the smaller of my tree seedlings covered by a thick layer of fallen leaves, shielded from an early frost. Farmer Family Friend advises mulching the baby trees for the winter to keep them safe from the extremes of the cold.

They are a near-perfect insulating and mulching material, but I rarely see people using them as such. "Use fallen leaves as mulch" is a Gardening Hack found on Pinterest, a novel trick.

It is discouraged to assign motive and purpose to natural processes, but it is devastating to accept the alternative—that something an organism does isn't "for" a purpose except the organism's own survival. Leaves fall because they can't withstand the winter cold, and it is more economical to enter a period of dormancy. We know this.

And yet. The horrors it has caused, for people to decide that the leaves are not for anything, that they only make a mess and can be burned or sent to a landfill (!!). We have to spread memes online telling everyone to leave alone their fallen leaves, because it's not common knowledge that the butterflies need them.

The harsh, competitive thinking about nature stops people from thinking of nature as the intricate system it is.

I was afraid that the frost last night killed my tiny tulip poplar. I found it safe and unharmed, covered by leaves blown all the way from the neighbor's yard—leaves from a mature tulip poplar tree, shielding the small one. I keep telling myself not to be fanciful, but my heart aches with something indescribable.

#trees #plants #gardening

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starleska · 4 months

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Dollface - the Toymaker x Real Toymaker!Reader

As a toymaker, you are delighted when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM'S TOYSHOP. But when you meet its eccentric owner - one eponymous 'Toymaker' - you enter into an impossible game with higher stakes than you ever imagined…with the risk of your deepest fantasy coming true. Rating: Mature. Tags: Dollification; Toyification; Truth or Dare; Reality-Bending; Humiliation; Psychological Torture; Fluff; Teasing; Touching; Forced Dancing; Mentions of Neglect; Cosmic Horror; Horrible Fake German. Reader is presumed female, but has a complicated relationship with gender and enjoys feminine terms of endearment. requested by the lovely @chronicbeans!! whilst this was originally meant to be a few-paragraphs long headcanons bit...but then it sprawled into a 13,000 word fanfic. my apologies to yourself, and to any German speakers in the audience 🙈💖 you can also read this on AO3. i hope you enjoy!

Toys are your life.

For as long as you can remember you have been fascinated by all manner of toys: everything from teddy bears to zoetropes; spinning tops to yo-yos. As a child you weren’t just interested in playing with toys—you wanted to reach inside of them, pick them apart, and understand every little detail about how they worked. Much to the chagrin of your parents, you spent more time trying to put your toys back together than you did actually playing with them.

But all of your alternative playtime paid off. Now, as an adult, you run a modest yet successful local toymaking business, with your own vendor stall at the market and a popular online shop. Much of your work is custom, using vintage materials to replicate toys of the past, and you occasionally trade and sell real old toys too. As a result, you have something of a monopoly on the local toy scene, and feel you know every single toymaker and toy-collecting enthusiast in a fifty mile radius.

That’s why it’s a real shock when you stumble across MR EMPORIUM’S TOYSHOP late one night.

The storefront is a gorgeous assault to the senses. Parked in the middle of the cold, grey street, the toyshop beams out crimson and gold onto the snow drifts, with all manner of classic toys peeking out at you through the windows. You are delighted to see an assortment of downy plush bears and hand-painted model motor cars crowding the shelves: so many it feels like the toyshop itself might burst at the seams. Your giddiness only increases as you get closer to the window. You can make out all sorts of fun, bright shapes within: countless colourful toys beckoning you and begging to be taken home.

Yet it isn’t these treasures which catch your eye the most. Right at the back of the shop, near the counter, you spy a shelf lined with dolls. They are beautiful even at a distance: likely from the early 20th century, masterfully painted and wearing a fine rainbow of little dresses. Even from your vantage point you can see the impeccable craftsmanship. There’s immense detail in their delicate hands, and if you’re not mistaken, each doll has a crop of real human hair.

Perhaps most intriguing of all is the eyes. Their glass sheen looks so sad and wistful…far more emotion than a doll should be able to communicate.

If you didn’t know any better, you would believe the dolls were alive.

Oh, I shouldn’t , you tell yourself. I’m much too old now to be playing with dolls…and I keep all my old ones locked up anyway. I shouldn’t deprive some kid of a toy. This is a deeply silly excuse, and a hypocritical one. The vast majority of your clientele are adults, as are the brilliant toymakers you’re proud to call your friends. This is the perpetual double-standard you constantly believe and are always trying to rally against: that you are uniquely strange, and deserve to be ridiculed for your interests.

The curious thing is that this idea doesn’t apply to toys more broadly…only to dolls. You have made countless dolls throughout your career, and yet owning dolls and enjoying them is something you’ve long nursed a hang-up over. But that is a can of worms you refuse to open up today. No , you decide, today I am going to be a normal adult who is confident about their interests and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame! I am going to go into this toyshop and look at those dolls, and that’s that! With your mind made up, you shift your backpack onto your shoulder, take a deep breath, and push through the toyshop’s door.

The door slams shut behind you with the tinkle of a bell. You are immediately enveloped in warmth, and the delicious scent of varnished wood enrobes you like a fine dress. You can’t help but close your eyes and inhale: somehow, the toyshop smells just like your childhood.

“Hallo, meine kleine Mädchen! Komm in, komm in, be ge-removings yourselves from dee kalt! It is ein horrid evenings, is it not?”

You open your eyes in surprise, and see an older, greyish-blond-haired man leaning against the counter. He’s dressed in a most whimsical fashion, wearing a soft white work shirt coupled with a maroon waistcoat, and a brown apron stuffed with woodworking tools. A spotted ascot around his neck and a pair of pince-nez balanced at the end of his nose complete the look.

The man smiles at you like he’s known you all his life. You feel like you’ve been transported to another time.

“It is,” you agree, as you shake the snow drifts from your boots. “So sorry for dropping in so late—I’m surprised you’re still open.”

“Ah, but I am always having times for dee beautiful Fräulein,” says the man with a coy wink. “But vot is it zat is ge-bringings you here?”

You have to stifle a giggle. You know enough of the language to know the man’s German is terribly off, and his accent is borderline offensive. However, you also know that folks in the toymaking community tend to be eccentric, and you can forgive a corny, theatrical accent for the wonderful atmosphere of this shop. Who are you to judge if he wants to LARP as a Bavarian thespian?

Before you can reply, the strange man is suddenly beside you…although you don’t recall seeing him move. He has also removed his pince-nez. You blink, a little taken aback. How did he move so quickly? You wonder if you’ve eaten enough that day.

“I’m…a toymaker,” you say, trying not to sound freaked out. “I’ve never seen your shop before, and I thought I knew everyone in town who makes toys. What’s your name?”

The man’s eyes are blue, you notice—terribly blue, and sparkling in the soft light with unspoken mischief. “You are beings ein toymaker? Vy, zat is a coincidence…” He taps the side of his nose. “Many peoples ge-calls me by many names. But zey most oftens call me the Toymaker, und nothing else. It be gettings dee point across, nein? Und was ist your name?”

You tell him, and the Toymaker’s mouth splits open in a wide grin.

“Das ist ein schöner name!” he says enthusiastically. “Truly, a magnifizent fit. It is not often zat I am gettings other toymakers in mein shop…I vonder, vot does your eye ge-fallen upon? Could it be mein cuddly collection of teddies? Oh, ja, I sees you are ge-needings ein soft companion for dese frosty nights. Or could it be mein train? Choo-choo! it goes, round and round all dee livelong day! I am ge-havings many customers mit ein eye for dee train.”

The Toymaker’s voice is smooth as butter, rich and inviting, and each word he speaks seems to add a little more colour to his delightful environment. You look around in awe at all of the toys, unable to comprehend the sheer scale of the place. Just moments ago the shop seemed so small, with the abundance of toys seriously crammed in on the shelves, but now it looks impossibly vast: a veritable sea of playful delights. The little choo-choo train in question chugs along on its rails and moves past the doll shelf, drawing your eye back to their pretty little figures.

“Ah, dee Katze hast gotten your tongue,” says the Toymaker. He gestures to the dolls, and the gold ring on his right pinkie finger catches the light. “I too ams often becomings stricken by dee beauty of mein dollen…zey took me many nights to make, ja. Oh, but ge-look! Eins ist out of place. Zose fingers are so fiddly! Und dee hair…zo many eveninks ge-spended brushing out zeir tiny curls."

You watch as the Toymaker reaches up and begins deftly rearranging the dolls. His fingers are long and nimble, and they move with such care and attention, placing each doll’s tiny hands neatly in their laps and smoothing down their dresses. When you’re a toymaker, you grow to appreciate a pair of well-practised hands, and there’s something undeniably… charming , about this Toymaker and his cartoonish whimsy. It’s silly, but you feel a little heat rising in your cheeks. The attention he’s paying to such small, delicate objects…

…well, it’s only natural that your mind should wander to more practical applications of such hands.

“The dolls are gorgeous,” you say. “Do you offer any toymaking classes? The dolls I make have a bit more of a modern touch.”

That’s when the Toymaker laughs, and it is a strange laugh: it tinkles out of his mouth like a jingle, in a musical, ‘Ha ha ha HA ha ha ha!’

“Oh, mein dollen are sehr modern…moreso zan you sink,” says the Toymaker. He gives you another wink, as it seems he likes to give them out for free.

That’s when you feel the little clench in your chest. Oh dear, he really is quite handsome. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d caught feelings for a quirky, attractive stranger, and they were often not as well-dressed as the Toymaker. You have a tendency to get caught up in the realms of imagination, and have thought up more than a few daring trysts with pretty-faced people with whom you’d only exchanged a couple of words. You ought to grab a doll, leave, and have a quiet little panic attack about this interaction at home.

You force your eyes away from the handsome man and back to the shelf.

That’s when you spot her.

Somehow, a doll had escaped your notice. Right in the middle of her sad-looking rainbow sisters is another doll, simply and prettily done up in a powder-blue be-ribboned frock. Unlike the other dolls, this one is smiling in a dimpled way, and her eyes sparkle with a magical sheen not unlike that of the Toymaker’s. You note with some amusement that the doll has the same eye colour as you—hair colour, too. This isn’t strange on a doll, but it gives you the same jolt of satisfaction and déjá vu you get when meeting someone who shares your name.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker (now on your other side). “Dee dollen…zey speak to you, ja? Zey are ge-having ein chitter-chatter, all high up on dee shelf. Vot fun games zey have ven I ge-leaves the shoppen!”

Dollen isn’t even the German word for dolls, you know—it’s Puppen. But you get the sense that the Toymaker’s German accent is less an earnest recreation (and it’s certainly not his natural accent), but a pantomime version intended to amuse and entertain.

“I’m sure they do,” you say, but you’re distracted from the Toymaker’s little act. The longer you look at the doll, the stranger you feel.

You move closer to the shelf to get a better look, and are startled by what you discover.

It isn’t just that the doll on the shelf has similar hair and eyes to you: they’re both the exact same shade, even down to the imperfect flecks in your irises.

You study the doll intently for a moment, blink, and— what? The doll’s hair is now the same length as yours. Was it always? No, you could have sworn just a moment ago it was not just a completely different length, but style.

You rise up on your tiptoes to get a better look at the doll, and are baffled by what you see. It’s as if detail is stacking on the doll right before your eyes, the way some video game maps load in piece-by-piece. You watch as texture is added to her hair, and light pools in her eyes. This level of craftsmanship is uncanny; it’s as if the Toymaker went out of their way to create a doll which resembles you.

“How did you do that?” You turn to the Toymaker, confused. “Did you know I was coming here?"

The Toymaker’s mouth contorts into an offended pout. “Now, you ge-vounds me. It is ein special privilege, having another Spielzeugmacher in mein shop. Tell me, vot do you sink of her hair? Es ist pretty, ja?”

“But that doll looks exactly like me,” you say.

You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. Suddenly the warm, cosy atmosphere of the toyshop feels more claustrophobic and oppressive. The Toymaker looks unbothered; he rests his chin on his hand and contemplates the shelf.

“Zere ist ein…certain resemblance,” says the Toymaker, with an unusual, almost French affectation on the last word. “But you are just ge-havings, as zey say, ‘von of zose faces’. Ja, das ist richtig: ein dollface. Puppengesicht. All smooth und sveet. Vy, vot a lucky lady you are! She simply must be goings home vith you.”

You’re scrambling to work out what kind of practical joke this is, and how the Toymaker was pulling it off. You’d met a few eccentric toymakers with God complexes before, as they tend to go hand-in-hand: you’d briefly dated one who designed escape rooms in his spare time. But this is on another level…creating a doll which can be imperceptibly altered to resemble a person in real-time? You’d never heard of such a thing, and you can’t think of a non-creepy reason why someone would go to the trouble of making one.

Oh, hang on a minute, you think. This guy might just be a genius. “This is a marketing trick, isn’t it?”

You pull away from the Toymaker and lean against his counter, feeling terribly smug for having figured it out.

The Toymaker puts his head on one side, quizzical. Playing dumb, you think.

“I am not ge-followings you,” the Toymaker says.

“You make dolls of the people you see ahead of time,” you explain. “People you know who will come in here at some point…collectors, other toymakers. Then you wait and put them on the shelf when they come in, maybe behind some hidden panel so you can spin them around when they get close. Then when they come in, it’s like they’ve found the perfect toy!”

You’re so proud of yourself for having cracked the case, you want to pump your fist in the air. For a moment, you envision yourself wearing a deerstalker hat and smoking a pipe. Go me! But your victory is short-lived. During your diatribe, the Toymaker’s bright, childish grin had frozen on his face, and remained in place even during your brief mental celebration. But now the smile slowly slips like a mask peeling away from too-tight skin. In its place sits a stormy frown: one which clenches the muscles and wrinkles of the Toymaker’s face into an expression which says ‘insulted’.

“For shame,” says the Toymaker. “That’s twice you’ve accused me of cheating now. You really do me a disservice. I am bound by the Rules of Play, and would never resort to such cheap tricks.”

What the hell…? The Toymaker’s accent is completely different. Where before his voice was a thick soup of faux German, now it is a soft British breeze: a proper, formal accent which speaks the way trees rustle. You gape at him, dumbfounded.

“Your accent is different,” you can’t help but say. You’re no longer just leaning against the counter—you’re actively pushing into it, with the edge of the countertop pushing into the small of your back.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow at you, and smirks. “You are not half as stupids as you are ge-lookings,” he says, slipping the German back on like a heavy cloak. “But zen, I know you are playing ein game mit me, aren’t you?”

You stare at the Toymaker. Something has shifted: the air is thick with a tension you cannot identify, but which you want to run away from. You keep staring, thinking that if you look away from those too-blue eyes for even a moment, you might just lose your grip.

You know for a fact that if you look back at that doll on the shelf, it will look even more like you than before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and you wish you weren’t lying.

The Toymaker laughs his musical laugh and wags his finger in your face. “Sehr naughty!” he says. “Oh, how natürlich dee lies kommen to sie, mein Schatz. You be ge-knowinks how to play games…zis ist ein lecker human mind game, und you are ge-tryings to deceive me.”

His voice slips smoothly back into the British:

“Do you think I don’t know all about your little fantasy?”

Your eyes go wide, and a choked noise escapes your mouth. No. There is no way that this man…this impossible toymaker could possibly know. You were always so careful, so sure to keep it all to yourself! Familiar shame and embarrassment wash over you in a hot wave as the Toymaker looks at you, looks into you, as if he can see the inner workings of your mind. Your mind grabs at the old, familiar justifications the way one might grab a newspaper for modesty if they found themselves naked on a bus. It’s perfectly normal to have fun little flights of fancy. Everyone plays make-believe sometimes, right? “But zey are embarrassing, zese thoughts of yours,” the Toymaker giggles. “Not dee kind of thoughts you can share mit deine Mutter. I am not ge-thinkinks zat you have shared your desires mit ein Partnerin…” There goes the eyebrow again, cocked sardonically to match the wicked curl of his lips. “Is zis true?” You feel nauseous. The firm pressure of the countertop underneath your palms is all that stops you from shaking. It feels as if the Toymaker is probing the inside of your skull, and using those skilled fingers to strip back the whorls of your brain and grab at the fleshy thoughts inside.

“Get out of my head,” you say quietly.

“Oh, but zis is dee game I ge-likes!” says the Toymaker. “Humans mit zeir internal struggles. Desires mit dee most fun ideas, but you are too ge-frightened to say vot you vant. So you play games mit dein loved ones…dee hunting und dee exasperation. Oh, you simply vill not communicate!"

You don’t know when the Toymaker got so close to you, but now he’s towering over you, with his hands firmly planted on either side of the countertop. You’re close enough to count the spots on his ascot, and examine the year-lines etched around his mouth and eyes. When he smiles those lines crinkle, but not naturally: it’s the way a puppet’s arms reach for the stars when the marionette twists them upwards.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper. “I’ll buy the doll and leave.”

This close, the Toymaker radiates heat. He smells like rose petals and Christmas.

“You could…but zat vould be no fun,” says the Toymaker. “I propose ve solve zis in a more interesting vay…”

The Toymaker waves his hand across your field of vision…and transforms the centre of the toyshop. A small wooden table complete with chairs has popped into existence just in front of the counter. You gape at the sight. How did he do that?! “Let us play ein game,” he says. “If you vin, you can take dee doll free of charge. But if I vin…”

The Toymaker’s smile cracks like the earth preceding a quake.

“You vill stay vith me und play mein games forever!”

You have to give yourself credit for reacting as well as you did. Most people, if they were faced with a crazy fake German man who seems able to read your mind, may have had a breakdown or made a run for the door. But you’ve seen a lot of anime, and you understand that if you are challenged by a handsome, powerful man with magical powers and a delightful hairstyle, you cannot refuse the call. Your brain has shifted from This should be impossible, to It’s game time. “Alright,” you say slowly. “You’re clearly very powerful. It seems like if I play a game with you, you have far more to gain than I do. A doll isn’t a good enough prize.”

The Toymaker smiles at you. “Ein girl after mein own heart,” he says. “How about zis: if you vin, I vill show you exactly how I make mein dollen, complete vith a demonstration. Zat is generous of me, nein?”

His words are laced with sinister venom, and it’s all you can do not to be poisoned.

“And I’m guessing that if I refuse your game, something terrible would happen to me?”

The Toymaker hums low in his throat. “Hm…not accepting mein game is always ein option…ja, you could do zat. Und yet…”

You inhale as the Toymaker brings his face terribly close to yours. The skin of his cheek brushes your own. You can feel his soft breath as he whispers into your ear, British once more:

“I know you are so curious as to how I make my dolls. If you leave now, you’ll never know. And I think if you wanted to leave, you would have done so already.”

The Toymaker pulls away from you, leaving you with your face on fire. He’s right. In less than ten minutes, the Toymaker has sussed out your fatal flaw: your damned unstoppable curiosity. There have been countless times where your life would have been improved if you’d kept your nose in your own business…but this is different. The Toymaker isn’t just dangling a carrot: he’s already dug his hooks in you, and you are being reeled in with every second you spend looking into those impossibly blue eyes.

When you next blink, the Toymaker has moved again. He is sitting in one chair, his hands folded primly in front of him.

“Name your challenge,” he says.

You weren’t expecting this: you thought he would have a game in mind. “Any game at all?”

“There isn’t a game I don’t know,” says the Toymaker coolly. “It is common courtesy to allow the guest to pick the party game.”

You can’t help a nervous giggle. “This is a weird kind of party,” you say.

The Toymaker acknowledges this by inclining his head. “Choose.”

Your mind scrambles over dozens of options. There are so many games…board games, card games, strategy games. Do we need equipment? How long does the game have to be? What games can you play with just two people? That’s when your brain starts to run in a very different direction, and a variety of… game positions …flash through your imagination with impunity.

A flush scalds up your neck. You look at the Toymaker, who raises his eyebrows in a knowing way.

He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You want to scream.

“Truth or Dare!” you blurt out.

That gets his attention. The Toymaker leans forward, his eyes quizzical. “Zat is non-traditional…yet apt,” he says. “Could it be zat you are ge-vantings me to force zat fantasy out of you, meine Liebchen?”

“No,” you lie. “I want you to tell me what you are, and why you’re doing this to me.”

“Then let’s get down to business,” says the Toymaker. “We take it in turns to ask each other Truth or Dare. A Truth corresponds to a question which must be answered truthfully, and a Dare is an action which must be carried out. The player earns one point for each Truth or Dare successfully completed.”

The Toymaker steeples his fingers together. You can’t pull your eyes away from them.

“If you refuse to complete a Truth or a Dare, or you contravene the rules of the game, you lose a point…and must complete a forfeit.”

The way he says ‘forfeit’ sends a shiver down your spine. “What kind of forfeit?”

“Oh, dee usual,” says the Toymaker casually. “Somesing difficult or humiliating. I do not ge-liken to pre-plan zese things…I am preferings to be spontaneous.”

You are starting to regret your choice of game. This is a man who knows more about you than you’ve ever told your closest friend…surely a game like Truth or Dare would be pointless for him? So you ask: “Why would you want to play this if you can already tell what I’m thinking?”

The Toymaker frowns. “A good question,” he says. “The Rules of Play prevent me from having any unfair advantage over an opponent. Although my abilities will remain intact, anything which would tilt the game in my favour is out-of-bounds. I am physically incapable of cheating, and would thank you not to bring it up again. There are only two states of being which matter: winning, or losing. I intend to win.”

Fair enough , you think. “And what if I cheat?” you say. “I have a pretty good poker face. If you can’t look inside my head during the game, what if I just lie to you? How could you tell?”

The Toymaker chuckles, bearing his mouth wide. To your horror, you see there are far, far too many teeth in his mouth.

“I can always tell when someone is lying to me.”

“Six turns,” you counter, voice trembling. “Whoever has the most points at the end of those turns is the winner. And…you can’t choose Truth or Dare more than twice in a row.”

The Toymaker seems impressed by your game-making skills. “Agreed,” he says. “Let us begin.”

He snaps his fingers, and all the lights in the toyshop go out. Above, a stagelight snaps into existence, pouring heat and light onto your scalp in a cascade. The Toymaker’s striking features are illuminated by this shift in lighting, casting the lines of his face with the severity of stage makeup. You swallow: he looks divine.

“Would you like to go first?” he asks politely.

“...No,” you say after a moment. “I think that honour should go to the house.”

Your gamble pays off: you realised that the Toymaker is a man with great respect for the rules of the game, and this offer makes him smile.

“How generous,” says the Toymaker. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” you say.

The Toymaker taps his finger to his lips, considering. Then, he says, “Destroy something precious to you.”

It takes a few seconds for you to really process the Dare. When it hits, you are baffled. What kind of Dare is that? you want to say…but you don’t bother saying it aloud. What kind of toyshop is this—and what kind of ‘toymaker’ is he? All you need to know is reflected in the sadistic gleam in the Toymaker’s eye. This wouldn’t be an ordinary game, and contesting his requests would be fruitless. All you can do is make your move.

You take a deep breath, and reach down into your backpack. You didn’t leave the house this morning planning to bring anything precious to you, but you are a sentimental person by nature, and know you have one item which fits the bill. It’s with great sadness that you pull out a small, ratty teddy bear and place him on the table. The bear is old and beige and dressed in a crimson band leader’s outfit, complete with a hat and red-laced riding boots.

“Oh, ein teddy bear!” laughs the Toymaker, delighted. “How charming. He is quite dee looker, isn’t he?”

“He’s the first bear I ever made,” you say. “I was listening to some 90s British pop music, and the idea for his design just…popped into my head. I scribbled it down and pulled him together from scraps of fabric and repurposed stuffing in just a day. His name’s Neil…I keep him with me for good luck.”

Something about what you said is terribly amusing to the Toymaker, but you don’t know why. “Ein handsome name indeed,” says the Toymaker. “But I am afraid zat vill not be enoughs to ge-save him. Poor Neil. Now…vill you complete your Dare?”

You take a deep breath. There was no turning back now; you’ve accepted the Toymaker’s game, and the predatory sheen in his eyes tells you that you can no longer just walk away. So you pick up Neil, grab hold of his little teddy bear ears—

And tear his head off, sending stuffing careening all over the table.

“Oh!” says the Toymaker with a false gasp. “Vot an unfortunate end for poor Neil. I did not know zat you have such ein cruel streak.”

“Shut up,” you say, trying not to look at Neil’s decapitated corpse.

Even though he’s just a teddy bear, you feel like you’ve just killed a defenceless animal. Neil’s lifeless button-eyes gaze up at you imploringly, as if asking why you’d do such a thing. You knock Neil’s head off the table and focus back on the Toymaker.

“That’s one point to me,” you say. “Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker grins at you like a shark. “Dare.”

There are a thousand questions ricocheting around your head, but you ask the one which you know will keep you up at night: “Tell me how you did that thing with the doll.”

The violence of the Toymaker’s laughter makes you jump. He actually covers his mouth to quieten himself, but his shoulders shake even so. “Oh nein, nein, nein, you are ge-makings ein mistake!” he says. “You cannot be askings a question ven I have chosen Dare. Oh, meine Schatz, you have your lost your point…and must receive ein forfeit.”

Your veins run cold. “What? No! That was never in the rules!”

“It is a common rule,” says the Toymaker, suddenly serious. “What is the point of distinguishing between a Truth or Dare, if a Dare can be a Truth?”

You want to protest…but his logic is infuriatingly sound. It’s exactly the kind of argument you could see yourself making if you were playing the game against a friend. You try to think of some other get-out-of-jail-free card—anything which would allow you learn how the Toymaker made that doll look exactly like you—but you come up short. You slump in your chair, and resign yourself to waiting for the next round.

“Oh, do not ge-look so sad,” says the Toymaker. In mock sympathy, he makes a little tutting sound against his teeth. “Now, about zat forfeit…ah! I am ge-knowings just dee sing.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes burst into a flock of doves.

You scream and leap up from the table, batting away at the birds scrambling over your skin. They coo and and flap in your face before struggling upwards and flying into the rafters. Shocked, you look down to find yourself still fully clothed…but with a wardrobe change. You are now clad in a beautiful, powder-blue dress. The fabric is inhumanly soft and threaded through with white ribbons.

“Oh my God!” you yell. “What did you do?!”

The Toymaker is doing his best to stifle a giggle behind his hand. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I think the colour is rather fetching on you.”

You clutch at the skirts of your dress, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. There is no way this is possible…you hadn’t felt anything, not even a shift of your own clothes or the sliding of new fabric against your skin. One moment you were wearing your own clothes, and the next you weren’t. It’s as if your clothes were merely a covering, and when they transformed into doves and flapped off, they left only your dress behind.

You move your legs under the layers of fabric, and blush when you discover you’re wearing a pair of frilly stockings. As you stick out your feet, you can see your feet are clad in a shiny pair of Mary Janes. It’s with a sick feeling in your stomach that you realise what the dress is.

It’s the same dress that the doll on the shelf is wearing.

"You're sick," you hiss.

The Toymaker cocks his head to one side. “Indeed?” he says. “How odd. I thought I was being rather generous, giving you a helping hand towards becoming your true self.” He snickers at you. “If I am sick, then I do wonder what that makes you. My mind is full of games, but the inside of your head is full of so much more.”

You ignore the Toymaker and hold your own arms, shrinking back down into your chair. Yet as you look down at the dress, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing. The dress is a perfect fit, one which could have been custom-designed, and the fabric is truly stunning in appearance and quality. With its puffy sleeves and shapely waistline, you know if you were alone you would have given your new skirts a twirl.

But you can’t let yourself get lost now. This is as much a mind game as it is a real one, you realise. The Toymaker is eyeing you like a piece of meat, and it’s clear that he is capable of so much more than a costume change. You must press on with the game.

“I want to keep playing,” you say.

“Wonderful,” says the Toymaker. "We’re currently still at zero points each, with two turns down. Unfortunately, your turn was taken due to the forfeit. I must ask you: Truth or Dare?”

You don’t allow yourself time to think about it: “Dare.”

The Toymaker’s smile is knowing. “It is a fool’s errand, trying to delay the inevitable. I believe my initial suspicions were correct…you do want the Truth to be pried from you, don’t you? Perhaps that makes the shame a little less potent. After all, the mean, scary Toymaker made you dress this way. It wasn’t your fault…you couldn’t help it. Am I getting warmer?”

Your face is getting warmer, and it’s getting increasingly hard to meet the Toymaker’s gaze. “It isn’t my fault that my opponent is insane,” you say, with venom.

Somehow, the Toymaker’s laugh is German. “Ah, zere is zat fire. You are quite dee entertaining playmate, meine Liebling. I am not ge-xpectings you to verstand games of dee mind…but I do find zem exhilarating. Dee expressions ge-crossing your face right now…I vish you could see zem.”

You scowl at the Toymaker. “Just give me your Dare.”

The Toymaker shrugs at you. “If you insist. I Dare you…to perform a dance befitting a fine young lady such as yourself.”

Oh, God, no. This is a nightmare of a Dare. “I—I’m not a dancer,” you say. You can feel your blush crawling up your neck. You envision yourself prancing around in your new dolly-dress, and the embarrassment makes you physically cringe.

“Oh, zat is not ein problem!” The Toymaker beckons you to look under the table. When you do, he taps his own shoes against the floor, performing a rhythmic tap-step. “Zose lovely Schuhe I gave you vill ge-helpen sie along. Provided you are villing to perform dee dare, your tanzen is all taken care of. All you are ge-needings to do is stand up, und take drei steps backwards.”

The Toymaker leans back in his chair and looks at you expectantly. The list of excuses which blossomed into your mind when he first suggested the Dare are dwindling rapidly, each one seeming more pathetic than the last. But…maybe there is a way out of this?

“What about music?” you ask. “Surely you can’t expect me to dance without music.”

The Toymaker shakes his head at you. “Do not ge-worry about dee musik! I have it all covered. Unless…you vish to forfeit once more?” The idea of any other part of your body spontaneously transforming into an animal is enough to make you scramble to your feet. Immediately, you are self-conscious: the dress is equal parts beautiful and ridiculous, and is so poofy and frilly that it gives your lower half the shape of a bell. You haven’t felt this kind of embarrassment since you were in school: the dry throat and sweaty palms before getting up on stage for assembly. Feeling like a silly child, you can’t help but look at the Toymaker, searching those mirthful eyes for guidance. But the Toymaker simply shoos you, indicating for you to step back. Hesitantly, you take one step away from the table. Then another. Then, one final, gentle step. Without warning, the floor of the toyshop erupts! From beneath your feet a wooden stage springs up, unfurls around you and traps you like a box. You shriek and try to stumble away, but your new dancing shoes root you firmly to the spot. A spotlight bursts into being above your head and illuminates your frozen self in all your newfound frilly glory. You look down from your new height to see the Toymaker sitting in what is now the front row of a vast auditorium; the toyshop’s interior has vanished. He whoops and grabs a fistful from a cartoonishly large bucket of popcorn. You open your mouth to yell at him, and maybe call him some horrible names you haven’t thought of yet. But before you can, music starts blaring from all sides of the auditorium. It’s a grating, repetitive tune: some ghastly combination of twee guitar and twinkling piano…and it’s so familiar . You know this song, but what is it? And why does it sound so…childish? The music hits a powerful note. Your mouth opens unbidden, and from your vocal cords a voice which is decidedly not yours belts out the opening lyric to a familiar nursery rhyme: “I’m a little teapot, Short and stout!” Your voice is loud and beautiful, and you project better than any Broadway singer. You can do nothing but watch yourself in abject horror as your knees bend in time with the music, and your shiny shoes send you toppling along the stage in time with the song. “Here is my handle Here is my spout!” You try to scream and stop, but your body is no longer in your control. Your arms bend at frightening angles, and your hips send your neck careening to the side with a crack . A rictus grin is firmly plastered onto your face, and your mouth stays open and singing: “When I get all steamed up, Hear me SHOUT!…” Your hands flap and your toes point and you screaming on the inside, begging for this to stop, stop, STOP ! But the infernal music is inside of your head and it’s pushing in on all sides, and no matter how much you cry and beg and plead your mouth won’t work except to belt out the final words of your song. “TIP me over and POUR. ME. OUT!” At the last line, your knees give out and you collapse face-first onto the stage. A grand cheer goes up from the auditorium. You twist around, trying to see if the Toymaker has conjured up an audience to witness your humiliation—but he is the only one present. The Toymaker is on his feet and giving you a standing ovation. “Vunderbar!” the Toymaker cries as he claps enthusiastically. “Oh, you are dee most darling little teapot, ja. Zis is a fine game we are ge-havings!”

“What—did—you—do?” you gasp on the floor. You feel like your lungs have been crushed. Something the Toymaker did seized up everything inside of you and folded them up like paper. Now it’s as if you really are a doll: crumpled up and discarded in the corner when your owner is finished playing with you. Although you’re quite sure the music has stopped, the melody is blasting in your head in a maddening loop. You try to move, but your legs won’t work.

“Oh, don’t be zo dramatik. Eversing I ge-make brings viele fun,” says the Toymaker. “Herzlichen Glückwunsch …das ist ein point to you.”

You don’t see the Toymaker get up on the stage, but the next thing you know, he’s crouching down next to you. Without warning, the Toymaker lifts you up under the arms and pulls you to your feet as if you weigh nothing at all. You try to stand but your rigid muscles struggle with the task and you stumble, falling right into the Toymaker’s chest. He chuckles, and you hear it rumbling softly in his chest. His skin is impossibly warm…and you can’t hear a heartbeat.

The two of you stand like that for a long moment, with you enveloped in the Toymaker’s arms. When pressed against his waistcoat, the maddening song infesting your brain quietens, and is replaced with an easy sort of calm. It’s strange…all the questions and anger and terror seem to just burn away. They’re forgotten in the simplicity of being held like a doll.

Eventually, your senses kick in. You manage to pull yourself away from the Toymaker, and you refuse to look at his face. “I just want to get on with the game.”

“Of course.”

The Toymaker waves his hand and the stage and auditorium vanish. You are transported back to the interior of the toyshop, with its familiar cuddly audience and the table taking centre stage. You sit back down at the table shakily. You know when you look up the Toymaker will already be sitting across from you…and you’re right, even though you didn’t see or hear him pull back his chair. His eyes are bright and curious.

“Okay…Truth or Dare?”

The Toymaker places his hand on his chin and pretends to be deep in thought. After a while, he says, “Truth."

You very nearly ask him the same question you were denied just before: how was he able to make that doll look exactly like you? But the momentary calm offered by the Toymaker’s embrace has had a quieting effect on your mind, and a spike in your critical thinking skills. You have to think strategically; if you want to win, you need to ask him a question which will throw him off-guard. Asking him about the doll wouldn’t be a challenge because he likes to gloat, and to tease. But if you win, you can have your answer to that question and an actual demonstration…

…plus, you get to keep your freedom. Don’t forget that.

So you stare at the Toymaker and wonder…what causes a man (creature, entity, etc.) to end up this way?

“Tell me about your childhood,” you say.

The smile is wiped from the Toymaker’s face in an instant. His mouth twists in discomfort and anger. For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel a pleasant curl of satisfaction in your guts. The game is on, you think.

“What’s wrong?” you ask out loud. “Do you have a problem with the question? Because you can always forfeit—”

“I. Will. Not. Lose.”

The Toymaker’s fists are on the table now: they’re clenched and shaking. Although he’s looking at you, his mind seems far away, trapped somewhere else. After a beat, he leans forward, grabs your head and brings your foreheads together so they’re just barely touching.

“You asked for this,” says the Toymaker gravely. “I will do more than give you the answer to your question. I will show you. Close your eyes.”

The closeness is invigorating: the Toymaker’s hands are strong against the sides of your head, and you wonder for a second if he could pop your skull like a balloon. You consider saying no and demanding he just tell you the answer, but the look on the Toymaker’s face is so intense that you cannot refuse. It’s that terrible curiosity in you, willing you to stand at the edge of the universe and take a step off the cliff.

So you do as your bid, and close your eyes…

…only to awaken in a void.

To say there is nothing around you is an understatement. Your idea of nothingness is very particular: blackness; emptiness, an absence of sound and light. But this is something else entirely. You can’t even feel the lack of something in this place because there simply isn’t anything to feel. From the moment you open your eyes you feel the contradiction of yourself as a physical being, standing in this vacant not-space. There is less than nothing here. There is zilch. There is negative zero. There is null.

You try to get your bearings by looking around, but there are no bearings to get. This is a nothingness which exists beyond your comprehension. Just standing in this nothingness makes your jaw tighten and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. This is a phobic realm which is the antithesis to life.

And it is so, so cold.

“This is where I grew up.”

You jump. The Toymaker is standing beside you, arms folded behind his back. He surveys the nothingness with humble respect, the way a weary sailor surveys the ocean.

“How?” You try looking around again, but without anything to anchor gaze on, your eyes just swing back round to the Toymaker. “There’s nothing here.”

“Nothing except for me.”

The Toymaker sits down on the emptiness, cross-legged. Feeling discombobulated in the lack of space, you sit down too, next to him, and wonder how that’s possible. You hug your elbows, trying to fend off the omnipresent cold.

“We are outside of your universe,” says the Toymaker quietly. “Below it, as a matter of fact. We are in a pocket realm, like the hollow in a tree branch. Here there was nothing for a very long time…so long, that I do not know how to count it. The void is indifferent to such concepts.

“I was a child for an eternity, and many more eternities after that. Merely a conscious speck suspended in forever. At the time I had no form. No body, no face, and not really a mind. I was a collection of distant ideas and fraught, base emotions. There was no reason for me to have either a solid shape or a brain. I existed only in relation to the void, and the void went on forever. All I had to entertain myself were my games.”

With a flick of the wrist, the Toymaker conjures a ball into existence. Then another. Then another. He does this over and over again until he is juggling at least twenty balls. His hands move in a blur as he juggles the balls effortlessly. He tosses them higher and higher, so high that you have to crane your neck to see. Eventually you lose sight of the balls in the nothingness.

But then, the Toymaker sighs…and you notice that the balls are disappearing. This continues for about a minute, the balls growing fewer in number until he’s down to just three…and then there’s only two, so he’s not really juggling at all.

Finally, the Toymaker catches the last remaining ball and holds it up to your face. A frost has grown along its leathery side.

“Playing games can keep you warm,” says the Toymaker, “but only for a little while. Eventually, the cold gets in. And the cold devours everything."

“How did you survive here?” you ask quietly. You can’t raise your voice above a whisper: it feels disrespectful.

“Death isn’t something I am capable of experiencing,” says the Toymaker. “I can never die from the cold. But I can still feel it.”

The Toymaker looks at the ball in his hand, and it catches fire. You gasp and pull away, but the fire only burns for a few seconds: the flames are quickly extinguished by a new crop of frost, growing over the ball’s surface like a disease.

In moments, the Toymaker is holding nothing but a ball of ice.

“I’m…sorry,” you say.

It’s a feeble reply, and you know it. The cold here is wrapped into the environment itself. This no-space could well be made of nothing but a creeping, insidious chill. It’s worse than the kind of cold which slams into you, like the jump from the shower to a towel on a winter night, or the way your cheeks are slapped when stepping outside on a snowy day.

This cold is sinister.

It waits.

It seeks out warmth wherever it can, wraps itself around that spark of heat, and crushes it frozen.

The Toymaker runs hot, you remember with a shiver.

No wonder. The Toymaker fends off your weak sympathies with a shake of his head. He stares off into the nothingness, and continues to speak.

“I thought it would just be me and the void forever. But then one day, I heard laughter! It was a sound utterly foreign to me. I was so frightened, I spent millennia curled tight up into a ball, cringing away from the sound. But I could hear them now…beings, with shape and light and thoughts. As the epochs stretched before me and the void remained still, I found myself drawn to their laughter.”

The Toymaker’s eyes glitter with recollection. “I learnt how to poke small peepholes into the fabric of the void, and peer through at the shapes. And oh, the things I saw! These beings, they played games , just like me! Games which used pieces and strategies and all manner of wonderful toys. I wanted to have them all. Needed to have them. So I did. I fashioned myself fingers, and with those fingers I fashioned toys and toys and toys, enough to fill up every child’s toy room in every universe!"

You watch as the Toymaker trembles with excitement. His voice has swollen to fit the void: a rallying cry against the darkness. He looks so proud of himself…but only for a moment.

“After a while, my toys grew old,” he says sadly. “They say a boy becomes a man when he must throw his toys onto the fire in order to keep himself warm...and the cold never stops. I realised that wood and string were all well and good, but they had no personality of their own…and I had no opponent.”

The Toymaker turns to you then. There’s a manic look in his eye. “So I began to lure in the flesh-and-blood creatures,” he says. “It was easy enough once I learned to assume their shape…especially the early ones, who weren’t so bright. And what shapes I would become! I enjoy this shape so much that I’ve decided to keep it permanently, with the odd touch-up every half-century or so. Being handsome helps bring in the players.”

There goes that easy wink again, smooth and charming and drawing you in like the lure on an anglerfish.

“And…that’s why you’re here today?” you ask. “You just want to play games with us?”

The Toymaker’s laugh is mean. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “All that exists is to win, or to lose. I don’t want to play games with you. I simply want to win.”

The two of you stand in silence for a while, contemplating the nothingness. The longer you stay, the more you can feel the chill sliding its icy fingers over your flesh. It crawls up your socks and settles into the gaps behind your knees. It causes wet, cold dew to form at the edges of your eyelashes. It even seeps into the spaces between your skin and fingernails.

You wish you hadn’t asked for this Truth.

“One point to you, Toymaker,” you say through chattering teeth.

The Toymaker starts: clearly he’d forgotten all about you. The void has a sobering effect on him, it seems. How did a little boy manage to have any imagination in this place at all? “Yes,” says the Toymaker with a worn smile. “One point each.”

The next time you blink, the void is gone. You are returned to the familiar warmth of the toyshop, and are still sitting at the table across from the Toymaker. But now, even as the cold sloughs off your skin and your cheeks begin to heat up again, you can see the toyshop for what it is. The bright lights and colourful attractions are nothing more than decorative wallpaper for a frozen, ephemeral darkness, ever-creeping in on the corners of your vision.

When the Toymaker speaks again, his German is back in full force, and you wonder if he’s trying to stave off how frightened he really is.

“Zat is vier turns down,” he says. “Mit only zwei to go. I ge-believe it is my turn, ja?”

Oh, hell: he’s right. You’d gotten so caught up in the impossibility of the Toymaker’s mind that you’d forgotten you’re playing a very dangerous game. But the Toymaker’s smile looks fake now, and the way his eyes glimmer seems less like mischief, and more like withheld tears. For the first time you want to stop this game…not just for you, but for the Toymaker too.

But that’s not how this would be played. The rules are fixed, and you’ve seen what the consequences could be. Worse, you only have one response left to give. By the way the Toymaker is grinning at you, you know he’s remembered this rule too.

“Truth or Dare?” he asks.

You swallow, before giving the only answer you can: “Truth.”

The Toymaker laughs a little too loud. “Now, you had better nots ge-try to get out of zis one,” he says. “I vant you to tell me dee truth: vot exactly is your fantasy? I vill be requiring details.”

There it is: the question this whole game has been building up to. This situation is impossible and ridiculous. Here you sit, surrounded by beautiful toys in your gorgeous dress, playing a game with an unbelievable, broken man who can rewrite your entire reality with nothing more than a thought. Yet you still can’t just open your mouth and give him the answer. Somehow, even in the face of impossible adversity, you are still beholden to your human embarrassment.

“If I tell you…” you say slowly. “...Do you promise not to laugh?”

The Toymaker’s eyebrows knit together. He looks distressed by the question. “All players should be treated with respect,” he replies.

That’s not the answer I want, but it’s the only answer he can give , you think. But maybe that’s the key here. You would never willingly part with this information…but the Toymaker just did the same thing for you. He didn’t have to show you where he came from. He could have talked around it, given you the crib notes, and you would have been none the wiser. The Toymaker showed you vulnerability just by allowing you into his history.

You owe him that same level of respect.

“I didn’t get much attention when I was growing up,” you say. “It wasn’t a bad upbringing, but I was just kind of…left, a lot of the time. I wasn’t looked after. There was always some sort of problem that needed fixing, and my parents never had time for me. No one bothered to check on me, so I just had to figure things out for myself. I spent most of my time alone in my room…just me and my toys.”

“That sounds familiar,” says the Toymaker, and the sympathy in his voice is real. “How did you pass your time?”

“I took my toys apart,” you say. “I think my parents felt guilty for leaving me alone a lot, so there was never a shortage of toys. But I wanted to figure out how they worked. That seemed much more interesting than actually playing with them, you know?”

The Toymaker smiles with approval. “Dee keen eye of a toymaker is a gift,” he says. “But I sense you are delaying your real story…”

You curse inwardly: again, he’s right. You cannot hide any longer.

“I took apart all of my toys…except for my dolls.”

That gets the Toymaker’s attention: those bright blue eyes light up with interest. “Go on.”

“I had a set of five dolls,” you say quietly. “Generic dolls. Sparkly, brushable hair, and little swappable outfits. Nothing special. But even when I was really small I couldn’t hurt them. I was terrified of damaging them in any way. There weren’t any other kids around to talk to, and my parents weren’t home, so I just…talked to the dolls instead. I knew it was weird, but in my head the dolls were more sentient than my other toys. I thought they could really understand me.”

The Toymaker starts back up in his German voice: “Ah, zere is nothing more ge-saddening zan a lonely Kind. Zat is why decapitating poor Neil vas being no problem for you, zen?”

“Yeah. It still hurt, but not for the reasons it would hurt most people.” You swallow; this is the really difficult part. “The older I got, the more toys I had, but I never added to my doll collection. My parents would joke all the time about how I was becoming a ‘little lady’. When I became a teenager there was so much pressure to be pretty, and girly…and it made me feel sick. So I tried to fight back against it. I cut my hair, I swore off pink, and I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress.”

The words stick in your throat. You look up at the Toymaker, hoping for some kind of mercy, but you don’t find it. But he isn’t mocking you, either: he just sits and waits for you to continue.

“I locked my dolls away,” you say. “I pretended I had thrown them out…but secretly, I’d sneak them out, and play with them. I’d brush their hair, and mend their dresses. I still do.”

The Toymaker leans in. “Why?”

“I…I wanted to be like them,” you whisper. “They are so pretty. The long, flowing dresses and the perfect makeup…they’re dazzling in a way I could never be. I can never, ever be that beautiful.”

You twist the fabric of your dress between your fingers fitfully, and force yourself to say it:

“I always wanted to be someone’s favourite doll."

There’s silence in the toyshop. You stare down at your lap, your heart pounding and your face flushed. Stupid, stupid…! Your eyes well up with hot tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at the Toymaker.

“Und zen you arrive here,” he says. “Meine beautiful dollen drew you in.”

“Yes,” you say quietly. “If I can’t be loved like a doll, then at least I can give them love instead. If I were a doll, maybe things would be easier, you know? Maybe…”

You can’t help the little choke-sob which escapes your lips.

“...maybe someone would take care of me."

The tears fall freely into your lap now and stain the beautiful fabric of your dress dark. You feel disgusting: worthy of ridicule. I deserve whatever happens to me now, you think, your brain awash with old, dark feelings you’ve kept locked up just like the dolls in your closet.

But it’s the Toymaker who snaps you out of his reverie. You didn’t hear him move, but you flinch when his fingers slide under your chin and tilt up your face towards him. Your tears cast him in a watery halo.

“Mein Liebling, stop ge-crying,” he says. “I have made sehr many dollen over dee years, und many of zem have been beautiful. But you are somesing else entirely entirely. Ein living, breathing, villing doll, so cute und poseable. Oh, you und I vill have zo many adventures together! You could be mein prized possession, und I vill hold you and play vith you from dawn zu dusk.”

The Toymaker’s words send a shudder through your body. Blood thrums at the surface of your skin and pools in your cheeks and neck. The Toymaker leans in until your noses are almost touching. He’s so very close to you now…close enough that he could kiss you.

But just before he reaches your lips, the Toymaker moves to the side and whispers into your ear:

“Dee game is not yet over, meine schöne dollen. You have one final question to ge-ask of me. Do it, und zis vill all be over…one vay or another.”

You can feel him smiling gently against your hair, and it makes you want to sob. Oh, please let this torture end…! But you’re in the Toymaker’s grasp now, in the final throes of his game, and you know you have to finish this or your suffering will never be over. There is only one turn left. You have to try, one last time, or you would spend the rest of your life at the beck and call of this madman.

“Truth or Dare?” you manage to croak out.

The Toymaker lets your face go. “Dare."

You take a deep breath. This is your last chance.

“Let me go.”

The Toymaker takes a long, long moment to process your answer…and then he starts to laugh. Really, really hard. The tinkling arpeggio of his laughter builds and builds until it seems to shake the very walls of the toyshop. For a moment, you are terrified that it’s all going to come crumbling down like a house of cards.

“Oh, perhaps becoming ein dollen hast eroded deine brain, ja?” says the Toymaker, the arrogance flashing in his teeth. “I am not ein genie you kann outsmarts. I am afraid zat since letting you go ist your prize, you cannot request it of me. So, you have lost ein point, putting us at a tie…und you must complete ein forfeit once more.”

No. No. NO! “That’s not fair!” you yell. The tears are streaming down your face in earnest now; all of the distress of this game and the Toymaker’s psychological torment can no longer be contained.

“Oh, und here comes dee tantrum,” says the Toymaker with a sigh. “I hates it ven zey get like zis. You must have ein forfeit…und I think I have dee perfekt idea to stop your ge-crying.”

The Toymaker snaps his fingers again. You open your mouth to scream at him…but nothing comes out.

You try again, but your mouth just flops open like a fish, with no sound attached to it whatsoever.

The Toymaker has stolen your voice.

“I have assisted you in another core aspect of your doll transformation,” says the Toymaker, the British swooping in over his tongue with ease. “I do not think most dolls can talk, do you?”

You awful…! But the words can’t even die on your tongue, because they never reach your tongue in the first place. There is a total disconnect between your mouth and your brain. Although you can fashion your lips into the correct shapes and try to push the air into forming syllables, none of them can escape your mouth.

The Toymaker has silenced you, taking away perhaps your only remaining asset in this game.

You mentally tally up the points, and realise he’s right. You are now tied, and six turns have passed.

“But I cannot tolerate a tie. Dee rules dictate zat ve must perform a tie-breaker challenge…” His accent ripples between the German and British easily, as if he can’t decide between childish delight and cool professionalism. “Do you have any suggestions for a tie-breaker?"

The devastation of losing your voice almost made you look over this detail. Yes, he’s right: for all of your suffering, the Toymaker hasn’t actually managed to get a point over you. That means all is not lost.

That means you still have a chance to win.

But you cannot strategise in a vacuum: much less when you can’t speak. The Toymaker looks at you in amusement, as if expecting you to try and talk anyway. You could have written a message down on a piece of paper, or typed it on your phone, but you decide not to give him the satisfaction. The Toymaker has already gotten you on the rules twice: you are going to play within his boundaries and win fair and square.

You don’t see where he produces the hat from. A flourish of the arm, and it’s suddenly in his hands: a beautiful top hat which would have gone perfectly with a tuxedo. The Toymaker flips the hat over and proffers it to you.

“Ladies first,” he says with a sly smile.

You reach into the hat and are surprised to find a variety of small, paper tickets. After some rustling around, you pull one out and read it. When you do, your eyes go wide.

WHOEVER HOLDS THEIR BREATH THE LONGEST IS THE WINNER. “Vot fun!” exclaims the Toymaker, clapping his hands together in excitement. “I must ge-varn you, I am a very gut schwimmer, and kann hold mein breath for ein long time.”

But do you even have a lung capacity?! is what you would have asked if you could. How was this fair? The Toymaker is clearly an extradimensional being, and his physical body doesn’t seem to conform to the laws of physics, space or time…anything that would put a real challenge to this game. But you can’t say so: you have no way of telling him.

Besides…is it cheating if that’s just how he is? Is it cheating if he’s just better at the game?

A loud tick-tocking draws your eye to the right side of the toyshop. Against the wall (where it definitely didn’t exist before) is a grandfather clock. Both of the clock’s hands are almost at the 12. This was news to you; you’d arrived at the toyshop sometime around 8pm.

“Ve vill begin when ze clock strikes twelve,” says the Toymaker. “Zere are no fancy rules…ve just start ge-holdings our breath, until eins of us cannot anymore.”

The grandfather clock ticks closer to your demise. You look at the Toymaker in desperation, clasping your hands together in a silent plea…but he just looks at you coolly. Now, you are nothing but an opponent to defeat. You are an obstacle ready to be demolished.

Well, I am not helpless. If anyone is going to decide the winner of this game, it’s going to be me. With only thirty seconds remaining, you fish around in the pocket of your backpack and pull out your phone. You set up your video camera, prop the phone up against a toy monkey holding a pair of cymbals, and hit the record button.

“Ah,” says the Toymaker. “In case of ein photo-finish. Gut idea.”

There’s a cold fire in his eyes now: something which ignited when he took you into his personal void. You have no moves left, and no gameplay strategies to implement. It is clear that he is the master of games, and you may as well already be his doll.

But hell, you are going to try your best.

The grandfather clock strikes twelve with a loud, booming chime, and you suck in the largest breath of your life. You don’t balloon out your cheeks: instead you opt for a subtle approach learnt from musical training, where you draw in the oxygen deep into your lungs and will it to sit there for as long as you can handle.

By comparison, the Toymaker doesn’t look like he’s holding his breath at all. You merely hear him stop breathing. He looks totally at ease.

The first ten seconds are child’s play.

The first twenty seconds are fine.

The first thirty seconds are acceptable.

But by the forty-second mark a playful fire start to burn in your chest, and the urge to take a breath begins to beg. Inside you curse yourself, wishing that you’d practised— but why on earth would I have practised such a useless game?! You look at the Toymaker. Big mistake. He waggles his eyebrows at you silently, rippling them in an over-the-top-sultry manner. You feel your lips quirking up into a smile…You can’t believe it! He’s trying to make you laugh!

So much for respecting the rules, you think to yourself. Your chest is really starting to hurt now. But then you wonder, is that really cheating? If the Toymaker can try to make you laugh, what if you can make him laugh too? But you shut down that idea immediately: if you prancing around in a frilly dress singing I’m A Little Teapot didn’t make him laugh (just clap!), you didn’t have a chance in hell.

Oh no. What is he doing now? While trying to focus on holding your breath, the Toymaker had conjured two familiar puppets on the ends of his hands: Punch and Judy. With a final, victorious wink, the Toymaker begins a silent, over-the-top slapstick routine with the puppets. Even without dialogue you recognise the beats of the show; Mr Punch is a mess of a man, overwhelmed by the demands of his wife and baby (the latter brought into being with a tiny, adorable puppet the Toymaker wears on one of his thumbs). His hands move with such finesse that the puppets almost look real.

Such a gaudy routine wouldn’t have been enough to make you laugh by itself, but the Toymaker brings a whole new dimension with his wonderfully expressive face. Each time the long-suffering Judy begins a voiceless tirade of her husband (i.e., throwing little puppet-objects at his face), the Toymaker supplements Punch’s depression with a frown worthy of a theatre mask. When Punch manages to land a hit on his wife or baby (My God, were these shows always so violent?), the Toymaker grins with such deranged glee that you can’t help but find it hilarious.

Oh no. You look at the clock: it’s been a minute, and your chest is really starting to hurt. The Toymaker and his puppets make your cheeks puff out with the effort of not laughing.

He smirks at you as Punch picks up his wife and baby and tosses them into the air, punting them like footballs. It’s so absurd and ridiculous that you can feel the giggle rising up in your chest. You desperately want to open your mouth and suck in oxygen but you can’t, you simply can’t, because if you do you’ll lose the game and he’ll keep you here forever…!

As your remaining seconds tick closer to your inevitable failure, you close your eyes. You want to have one last moment to remember yourself as you are, because you are sure whatever the Toymaker is going to do to you will not be pleasant.

Your chest aches. Your cheeks bulge. Your will starts to unravel.

And then, you have the idea.

It’s a stupid idea, and with barely any seconds left to execute it, you have no guarantee that it will work. But as you open your eyes and look at the Toymaker’s smug ‘I’ve already won!’ expression, you know you have no choice but to follow through with your mad plan.

So, holding on to every last bit of breath you have, you lunge at the Toymaker—

—and envelop him in a bone-crushing hug.

Several things happen at once:

The first is the Toymaker exclaiming in surprise, his breath clearly lost, and dropping his puppets, which dissolve into ash as soon as they hit the floor.

The second is your desire to breathe finally overpowering you as you collapse against the Toymaker, and the two of you tumble to the floor.

The third is the grandfather clock exploding. Just as you hit the ground the clock bursts apart, firing out wooden shrapnel with a horrifying bang! On reflex you huddle yourself against the nearest form of safety, which in this case happens to be the Toymaker’s chest.

You weren’t expecting him to hold you back.

The two of you stay like that for some time: you and the Toymaker, on the floor together, breathing heavily and wrapped up in each other’s arms. Despite your own adrenaline, you can’t understand the Toymaker’s terror: surely he caused the clock to blow up? He certainly wasn’t in any danger.

But then you hear a sound you couldn’t hear before. It’s the thrumming of the Toymaker’s heart, loud and insistent and desperate to survive. You hear it through the fabric of his waistcoat, and feel it in the pulse of his neck. For just a moment, the Toymaker seems to be just as human as you.

You wonder if the Toymaker’s mortality is contextual.

Eventually, you manage to disentangle yourself from the Toymaker’s limbs. You peek at the smoking remains of the grandfather clock, and are relieved to see that nothing has caught fire: there’s just a scorched, black mark where the clock once existed. The shards of wood which exploded out from the clock have disappeared.

Thankfully, your phone is untouched! You pick it up, pause the recording and watch it back. A smile stretches across your face.

“Oh, Toymaker!” you say, and you are so very pleased that your voice has returned. “You’re going to want to take a look at this.”

When the Toymaker climbs to his feet, you are immensely amused to see that his perfect curls have been knocked a bit by the explosion. For the first time since you met, the Toymaker is dishevelled and confused. It’s a cute look on you, you think.

“You broke my game,” says the Toymaker incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“No idea,” you grin. “Maybe it was an unexpected outcome. Still within the rules, still a valid way to win, just…unorthodox.”

You show the Toymaker the recording. You watch as his expression turns from bafflement, to despair, to outright blazing anger.

“No!” the Toymaker cries. “You can’t have beat me!”

But the camera never lies. The footage on your phone clearly picks up the Toymaker gasping in shock as soon as you hit him with your hug…whilst you don’t gasp for air until a few seconds later, just before the grandfather clock explodes.

“Seems like I have!” you say happily.

“But I…you…” The Toymaker’s fingers flex in the air meaninglessly, as if looking for a straw to grasp. “But that’s cheating!”

“No it isn’t,” you say with confidence. “There was nothing in the rules about us not being able to make each other lose our breath. If you making me laugh was a valid strategy, then me hugging you was too. Either we both cheated, or no one did.”

The Toymaker looks like he’s been slapped, and it is a delicious feeling. You almost want to pinch his cheeks. With a pout fixing his lips, the Toymaker snaps his fingers…and your clothes return to normal. Your dress is gone, replaced by the clothes you entered the shop with.

(Is it a little silly to be regretful of that fact…?)

“I still say that shouldn’t count,” says the Toymaker sullenly. “That was an underhanded tactic. I’ll be writing that into the rules next time.”

But you’ve turned away from the Toymaker now—he obviously needs to work through his sore-loser feelings in his own time. You trot over to the doll shelf, pick up the beautiful doll in the powder-blue dress and cradle her in your arms. She truly is a wonderful prize.

When you turn back around, the Toymaker is sitting on the floor with his hands hugging his knees. You feel a pang of sympathy for the man…it seems this really is his whole life.

“But why did you hug me?” the Toymaker asks, baffled. “That’s not a winning strategy. You just surprised me. You were so…”

The Toymaker looks up at you with shining eyes. This time, his eyes really are wet with tears.

“...Warm,” he whispers.

The triumph of your win quickly sours on your tongue. The way the Toymaker is looking at you gives you a powerful feeling…and it’s not one that you like. Even though every part of you is telling you to make a run for the door while you have this post-win window…you don’t.

Instead, you sit down cross-legged on the floor next to the Toymaker, just like you did when in the void. You even bump your shoulder against his.

“I’ve been sad a lot in my life,” you say. “But I’ve never felt as much sadness as I did in your void. And it made me wonder if…you’d ever been held before.”

The Toymaker looks at you with flashing eyes. His bottom lip trembles as if he’s trying to hold back a lifetime of grief. He doesn’t say anything, but those eyes tell you all you need to know.

“I wouldn’t mind coming around here sometimes,” you say gently.

The Toymaker looks at you like you’ve got two heads. “You would voluntarily subject yourself to my life-or-death games?”

“Maybe not the life-or-death part,” you say hastily. “But I had fun today. Weird, horrible fun. You’re kind of a weird and horrible guy…and I’m pretty weird too.”

To your surprise, the Toymaker actually laughs at that. “You are unique, meine Liebling,” he says, German once more. “To out-ge-smart me, you must be.”

“Well…maybe it’s a good thing we met,” you say. “Maybe you don’t need to keep luring in suspecting people to your shop, Toymaker. Some of us might actually want to stick around and play. And maybe…”

You rest your head against the Toymaker’s shoulder.

“...Maybe I could help keep the cold out for a while.”

The Toymaker and you sit in silence for some time, listening to the gentle whirs and clicks of the toys going about their business. You keep your new doll tucked between your legs, and your cheek resting against the Toymaker’s shoulder. He’s so warm that you find your eyelids fluttering: you could easily fall asleep right here.

It’s a surprise when you feel the Toymaker’s fingers sliding into your own. You look at him, and see those telling blue eyes alive with fresh excitement.

“It’s a deal,” says the Toymaker, with an enormous, brilliant smile.

You let the Toymaker pull you to your feet. To your amusement, he grants you a deep, formal bow.

“Run along now, meine Schatz…today must have been ge-xhausting for you. But I shall be seeing you again soon, ja?"

Other people would not have caught it, but you know what loneliness sounds like: you hear the edge of desperation at the edge of the Toymaker’s voice. You take a step back and return the bow with a curtsey.

“Ja, genau,” you grin.

The Toymaker’s smile could have outshone the sun.

That night, when you return home, you take all of your dolls out of your closet. You line them up with care on your shelf, making sure to pose them prettily and smooth out the creases in their frocks.

But you keep your new doll in your hand, and clamber into bed with her. Before you turn out the light, you look one last time at her perfect, dimpled face.

Oh, what games will you and the Toymaker play next?

#the toymaker x reader #the toymaker x you #the toymaker #doctor who #the celestial toymaker #dw #the giggle #fanfiction #x reader #starleskawrites #i don't know what came over me but it sure was fun to write 🥰💖#long post

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hanaruri-tunes · 11 months

Text

Humiliating Leviathan (Levi x reader)

My first try at some smut, so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. And here are the warnings I could think of: Degradation, crying, masturbation, usage of underwear, usage of sex toys, going down on MC, two dicks (I gotta follow the common agreement that Levi has two dicks haha), snake tongue (again, common agreement), petting, praising

OKAY. I think that's it. Don't hesitate to tell me if I forgot something. I know all those warnings might make it seem hardcore but I promise it's actually quite a cute fic. Subby and pathetic Leviathan is the cutest. PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO LEAVE COMMENTS please please this is my first try at smut in the obey me fandom (if ever, actually) I would really appreciate the support.

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You knocked on his door three times. No answer. Knowing Leviathan he was either passed out in his bathtub after binge-watching an anime or playing games non-stop... Or he miraculously decided to go out somewhere. Probably to buy some merch from a limited-in-time store that has no official website from which Leviathan can order. Although he could definitely find some second-hand merch online he refused to do that. He would go on and on about how buying second-hand isn't supporting the franchise thus he MUST buy it directly from the source.

Seeing how there was still no answer you decided to go in. Usually his door had a spell on it that would send intruders into another random place in the devildom but he lifted that spell for you specifically. You were the only one who could enter at any time without any disturbance.

As you did so, there was no Leviathan in sight. Not in front of his gaming set-up, not in his bathtub, not passed out on the floor. So he's out, huh? You wonder why he didn't invite you or at least warn you that he'll be out today. Usually, especially if it's for a limited time anime café, you're always the first one invited. Well, you probably shouldn't pry but as you're about to step a foot outside his room... You stop. This is a pretty rare chance to look around his room without him pestering you.

It's not like you'll pry *too* much though. Just a bit, for curiosity's sake. (That was a lie you told yourself.) You inspect his figurines more closely. He's mostly into magical girl shows and moe blob shows. How cute of him. But you've always expected that he might have some secret sexy figurines as well. Or else why would he be so protective of some of the packages he orders from Akuzon? He's usually so unenthusiastic and slow when getting out of his room for breakfast or dinner and yet he rushes to the door when it's for a delivery.

After checking some of his drawers you find the fabrics and materials he uses for his cosplays. It's all mostly different hues of pink since he prefers cosplaying female characters- how cute. At one point you also accidentally come across his underwear in one of his drawers, it's all mostly black with some funky colors mixed in from time to time. He even has one of a limited edition HanaRuri-tan underwear collection.

And just as you think that you've struck gold... it's just some old stuff. Probably from some of his past obsessions. That includes precure dvds, aikatsu cards, manga magazines, et cetera. Again all cute shows mostly targeted to young audiences. Really, you can't see Leviathan as anything else than a completely adorable dork. People often don't get him for his specific tastes and hobby but all you see is a pure little guy who's still in touch with his inner child and who loves mostly light hearted shows. Surely anything he might hide won't probably be even THAT bad. Or even if it is... that's still cute in another way.

After looking in all of his drawers, no sign of any sexy figurine, of any sex toy or even erotic manga... This is way too suspicious. But then again Levi is smart, he probably wouldn't dare hide any of this stuff in his drawers knowing that Lucifer frequently comes to his room begging him to clean it, only to start off doing it by himself before Levi hurriedly joins him and kicks him out. If he had to hide something dirty where would he... ... You look under the bathtub. Nope. Too easy? Then...Reaching for his blanket and sheets inside the bathtub, you raise them, uncovering some sort of trapdoor?You slide it open and there's a huge box inside of it. If you had to guess, he used the same spell as the entrance of his room. Except this one always leads to the same space: the place where his hidden box is, wherever that is.

You pull it out, open it and there it is. Almost all of the stuff you had imagined him hiding was in here. Sexy figurines, erotic doujins, even some sex toys. Two in particular were bigger than the others. Fleshlights... But why two? Looking at it closer one's a smaller size and the other one is bigger. Did he get the size wrong the first time he ordered so now he has two of them? But more than that, there was something you really didn't expect to find here. A pair of panties. *Your* panties. You thought that maybe you had just forgotten it while moving back and forth between the devildom and human world but here they were, in Leviathan's precious box.

In some way this awakened something in you, a strange feeling of amusement while you realized that the cutest and purest guy you knew turned out to be a filthy underwear thief who most likely used it to jerk himself off.As you started to think that, a loud noise came from behind you. It sounded like some object had fallen to the floor- ah. Probably Levi who just came back and dropped his phone after realizing what you were looking at. Quickly, you wiped off the amused smile you had on your face before turning back to face him. You faked a look that was a mix of disappointment and worry.

"Levia-chan..."

The poor guy looked frightened, as if the sky had fallen on his head, as if his life was over. Even that pathetic part of him, you found it just so cute.

"Ah... ah... That- uh. I-"

Not even taking the time to close the door behind him, he dropped on his knees in front of you, lowering his head.

"I can explain! S-So please don't- please don't freak out o-or agh, I mean-"

His heart dropped when you walked past him. "It's over." He thought. The friendship you guys had built was done for. There's no way you would ever love him now or even want to look his way. There's no way a kind, beautiful, strong person like you would ever even spare him a glance. No way an amazing girl as pretty and genuine as you would give a second chance to a gross creepy piece of shit like him.

As the worst possible scenarios started to play in his head, he came back to his senses slightly as he understood that you had just closed the door in order to have more privacy in here. You slid his seat in front of him as he was still on his knees, sat down and crossed your legs, taking on a haughty tone. Almost commanding.

"So? You said you could explain but I don't really see what is possibly left to explain here. It all speaks for itself. All this filthy shit and even two fleshlights weren't enough to satisfy your dick so you just *had* to have a go on my underwear, huh? You slutty thief."

As you said that last bit you flicked his forehead that he was trying so very hard to keep fixated on the ground, but it was almost impossible anyway since you had your bare legs crossed right in front of his eyes. You know Levi loves it when you wear short skirts, it's hard for him to not look, even in a serious situation like this one.

"Agh. Well, uh. Ahh..."

After about twenty seconds during which he couldn't come up with anything plausible or even any attempt at an excuse he started to tear up. Completely lost, he lowered his forehead to the ground, bowing and apologizing profusely.

"I'm- I'm so *hngh* s-sorry *hic* please don't hate me. Y-You're right, I'm a pervert but please, I beg you for forgiveness *hic* at the very least please don't ignore mee- *hnghg*"

You felt chills down your spine. Was it horrible of you? While this little baby thought that his entire life was over just because you might hate him, you were just thinking how fucking cute he sounds when he's crying while genuinely in distress. You were feeling conflicted. One part of you wanted to pat his head and raise it, kiss his cheeks full of tears and caress his back while assuring him that you don't really find him that gross or creepy. In fact finding this dirty side of him made you giddy.

And yet, the other side of you wanted to play around with him a bit more before giving him ultimate bliss.

"Levi... Are you serious my darling?"

You gently pressed your heels on the back of his head as his forehead was still stuck to the ground.

"You really think such a lousy excuse will cut it? You know just how outright creepy this is, right? You went out of your way to steal underwear from me so you could rub it all over your dick and cum in it and yet all you have to say for yourself is just "I'm sorry, please don't hate me"? You'll have to do better than that."

Still sniffling, you could feel Levi taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"Y-you're right. Crying about it won't solve anything. I know just how much of a disgusting lame little fuck I am, it's already a miracle how someone as beautiful and amazing as you even considered me your friend. I've been blessed a-and so honored to be called that. So please, please give me a second chance Y/N. I'll do anything, really."

You took your heel away from him. Full of expectations on what the two of you were about to do if you played your cards right.

"Anything? No way. That's just empty words."

"It's not! I'll really do anything. I'll even be your b- um. B-Bitch if I have to."

You command him to raise his head up, he does. His eyes and cheeks are still wet from the tears he just shed and his face is all red from embarrassment.

"A bitch, really? So you'll even accept corporal punishment? If I tell you to lay down on your stomach on my lap, you'll do it? You'll let me spank you?"

For a split second you see it his eyes, this little fucker really feels like he'll get a kick out of this. "It's not a punishment at all!" He must be thinking. He would love to be treated so poorly by you. In fact, one of his occasional turn-ons was to imagine you degrading him, insulting how much of a perverted little shit he is.

"I- I'll do it. Anything you want to do to me, I'm fine with it so..."

You lightly tap on your thighs two times, telling him to get on. Obediently, he does... and immediately receives a slap on the ass.

"You're supposed to at least lower your pants idiot. Or else it won't even hurt that much."

"A-Ah, yes."

You saw it again. That glint in his eyes. He's excited and is just so barely managing to not display a shit eating grin on his face.

As soon as he does as you told him to, you spank him again. Harder this time. He lets out a little yelp. And as he does you grab his hair with your other hand to pull him up a bit and whisper into his ear.

"You think I didn't notice that? The corners of your mouth keep rising upwards you fucking pig."

Finally he completely gives up on the façade he is trying so hard to keep and lets out a huge unrestrained grin, the kind he has when you hug or kiss him on the cheek suddenly. Looking dumb and genuine, though this time it looks cuter as he's obviously enjoying the pain you're inflicting on him.

"Aaahh. I-I couldn't hide it after all, you're right Y/N. I'm a dirty fucking pig who even enjoys it when you're being mean to me. Bully me, hit me, spit on me. I don't care, if anything I love it. I'm so sorry for not even being able to be properly punished ahh I'm so so sorry~"

He says while not looking sorry at all. Pretending to ignore his stupid monologue you spank him again.

"Slut."

"Hnghh~"

He shudders and keeps grinning widely.

Only does he get a bit nervous when you decide to pull down his underwear.

"Ah- wait! ACk-"

You spanked him again, this time your hand made direct contact with his skin.

"Shut up you filthy bitch. Isn't that what you promised? You even said that you'll be my bitch so that's just what you are right now."

Rapidly the nervousness he had displayed a second ago dissipated.

"Ahhh~ y-yes, I'm your bitch. You can use me whoever you want, I'll even drink your spit if you ask me to ehehe- OW-"

"Quiet. Or- No. Actually, keep moaning. It's cute."

"Ehehe I'm sooo happy you said I'm cute Y/N."

"Master."

"Master~ ehehe..."

He was really digging this roleplay type of set-up you had invented. But while he thought you weren't performing and really wanted to punish him, you on the other hand were truly aware that this is all a sham from your part just to turn him on.

As you continued to spank him a couple more times, you noticed something odd. It wasn't that you felt poking against the side of your thighs since you had fully expected him to get a hard-on. It was that the poking sensation was double.

"... Levi, get up for a second."

"Um, w-wouldn't it be better to continue to punish me?"

Another slap made him yelp.

"Don't be difficult."

And so he did, and you finally realized why he owned two fleshlights. It wasn't that he had the size wrong and had to order a second one, it was that he has two dicks. One on top of another on his crotch, with a pair of balls for each. You can't help but wonder just how much more sperm he can produce than an average "person."

As you closely observe his two rods, Levi can't help but squirm under your gaze. Elated at the amount of attention and your focus on his private parts as his pants and underwear are now out of the way.

"It's weird isn't it? I'm so fucking gross that even my genitalia isn't normal. I'm impressed you can even look at it directly haha."

Silently, you keep staring. Utterly turned on by the many ways you could use this part of him when you'll inevitably fuck eachother. Seeing how you're keeping quiet, Levi keeps degrading himself, obviously wanting the same treatment from you.

"I mean what kind of weird monstruous fuck would have two dicks, right? S-So you can tell me, tell me just how fucking gross and creepy it is..."

He keeps smiling, his face flushed by the titillating humiliation he's feeling by having his cocks out in front of you, the girl he loves the most in the world. So you decide to humor him a bit.

"Hmm... So you constantly hide these? Is it why you always try to wear baggy pants? So people won't notice how much of a creepy fuck you are."

"Y-yeah haha. T-Tell me more..."

He's so docile and pathetic, you can't help but strive for more.

"No. That's enough. Even after a couple of seconds looking at it, it makes me sick of it. I'm bored. Won't you show me how you play with them when I'm not around?"

Leviathan's eyes light up at your suggestion. He can't believe a day would come when you or anyone for that matter would ask him to masturbate in front of them.

"R-Really? You wanna see that?"

"Well, you don't want me to be bored right? And you really reaaaally want my forgiveness for being a gross fuck."

Excited yet mortified, Leviathan takes two of the fleshlights and rummaging through the box, he finds some lube. You watch him start off by filling the two holes with lube, all while both of his dicks are still erect from earlier. You're honestly still amazed at how they look.

Just before Levi sticks his first cock into one of the fleshlights you get an idea.

"Wait a sec. Hand it over."

Obediently, he hands the sextoy over. You spit into it, your saliva mixing with the lube and you give it back.

"Here. Hopefully it'll enhance the experience?"

"Ah- S-shit! Had I known I wouldn't have used the lube at all..."

He looks down, disappointed but still ecstatic. He carefully places the tip of his shaft on the entrance of the toy and slowly starts pushing it in, his dick opening up the walls of the toy as he shudders from the sensation and your piercing gaze. He jerks himself off like that for a little while before you ask him if he's not going to play with his second shaft.

"Well... I can either use the other toy or... I can show you how I do it with your panties..." Seeing how silent you are he retracts his statement. "-JUUST kidding ahaha it's already gross enough to see me jerk myself off so disgustingly with a sex toy, n-no one would like to see their own clothing used like that..."

You smile, uncrossing your legs and leaning in.

"No, that's a good point. Show me how you've been using my underwear all this time you dirty fuck."

"A-ah! Yes... ahaha~"

Taking your panties carefully, he wraps it on his other dick and starts pumping it with his free hand. As he does, he starts explaining.

"A-at first, I would only sniff them but I couldn't resist the urge to use them like this. And now that I've used them too much your sweet smell has completely been overwritten by my disgusting stench so there's no use sniffing it anymore ehehe. That's so fucking creepy isn't? I-I'm such a creepy bastard."

There he goes again, degrading himself while expecting a follow up from you. But you give him none of that this time. Instead, you look at him with anticipation and give him a challenge.

"If you do a good job of putting on a show for me I'll let you go down on me."

The air surrounding him turned to a deep purple as he took on his demon form, his scaly tail wagging around like the one of a dog's. Then he started to pant like a pup as well, elated by your suggestion.

"Ah. Ahh. N-no way? Seriously?! I'll do it, I'll seriously do it. So please watch closely!"

All this time he was on his knees, but now he stood up, making sure you have a close look at his dicks. They were right there in front of your face and you had to hold yourself back from taking one of them into your mouth. He kept mumbling and stammering some intelligible stuff, but you're pretty sure it was something along the lines of "I'll do it" and "look at me."

As he was getting close to release, you could feel him lose himself in the pleasure as his knees looked like they were about to fold from the lack of strength he was putting into them. Probably not used to jerking off standing up, he most likely does it either sitting or lying down like most people. In an effort to keep him standing in front of you, you placed your hand on one of his knees then slowly brought it up, caressing his thighs.

"Do your best to stay standing~ I'll be disappointed if you fall."

"Ah! Yes, of course!"

A literal couple of seconds later, the fleshlight was leaking of his cum and your stolen panties were dripping with his seed. Not only was the quantity overkill but the texture and thickness of the liquid looked quite rich. It was like warm condensed milk. As if on instinct, you placed one of your hands under the dripping liquid, allowing a couple of droplets to land on the palm of your hand.

"Y-Y/N??"

You lick a droplet off, tasting it. Seeing you do that, Levi's knees finally give in and he falls to the ground again, looking at your lips and mouth closely while wagging his tail, overly fixated on how your mouth moves while your tongue is probably pressing those drops of *his* cum on the walls and ceiling of your mouth. Savoring it.

Despite it looking like condensed milk it tastes more like a nectar, sweet and unnaturally good. Is it a special characteristic for a demon's cum to taste sweet and good? Maybe it's to push each other to fall into lust... makes sense. Delicious cum would easily push demons or humans alike to fall deeper into the sin of lust.

"W-wah... I can't believe I just saw you do that. Am I in heaven? N-no that sort of erotic scene would never happen in heaven. Aha I'm so glad I'm a demon and that we're in the devildom..."

Satisfied, you open your legs and raise your skirt.

"It tasted pretty good, surprisingly. But I'm sorry to say mine probably won't taste as good as yours."

Levi crawls towards you like an obedient puppy. He closely looks at the small stain that had formed on your underwear due to his performance. He feels like one grateful and lucky bastard that you're allowing him to do that to you. Frozen for a bit by the sight, he drools slightly before snapping out of it and placing his hands on the side of your underwear. Sliding it down as the stain leaves a bead of your warm liquid behind. Levi looks at it stretch and break as he pulls the panties further down, up to your ankles. You get your feet out of them and kick them to the other side of the room, allowing yourself to open your legs better than if they had stayed around your ankles.

Placing your hand on his head, you gently push him towards you and pet his head.

"Will you start or are you too busy drooling?"

Not making himself be begged any further. He starts by so very gently kissing your clit, it's so soft that you can barely feel it. He wraps his hands around your thighs, preparing himself to eat you out. He's so adorable. As he sticks his tongue out you notice how he has the tongue of a snake. Not that you hadn't noticed before, he would try to hide it from you at first but when you told him that it was so unique and cool he wouldn't try to keep it away from you anymore, boldly opening his mouth when he would yawn or when he was complaining about something. Now there he was using his devious tongue on your sweet spot.

He was greedily tasting you, it made you wonder if you actually tasted as good as he was making it seem. Though you're pretty sure you don't have enchanted cum like demons do. He would sink his fingers into the soft skin of your thighs, feeling you up, probably wishing that you'll let him hump your thighs next if he does a good job at making you feel good. You start to mewl and as you do, you can feel his tongue double down on his efforts, desperate to make you feel better just so he can hear you whimper and cry out his name.

You look down, a bit overwhelmed at how good his tongue is at exploring your insides. You see him looking up at you expectantly, a happy glint in his eyes, full of love for you. It's funny how one moment he begs you to degrade him and the next he asks for praise with his shiny eyes. Appreciative of his efforts, you place one of your hands on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb.

"Good boy Levi."

He wags his tail and his eyes light up some more as he hardens his tongue, pushing it further than you thought he could. You let out another whimper, this time mixing in his name. And as you do, you realize how close you are to climax. You grab his horns and cross your legs around his head, trapping him in front of your pretty pussy. Not that he minds, in fact he wouldn't like it any other way. Feeling you come while you call out his name some more, he suckles on your juices, gladly letting it spread all over his tongue before swallowing it all.

As you let him go, he rests his head on your right thigh, his cheek against your bare skin. He keeps looking up at you in awe at how pretty your face looks just after you've come. He rubs his cheek against your thigh hoping to get your attention back at him.

"Did I do a good job? I can um, I can do other things as well~ Oh if the idea of taking me back as a friend immediately is too gross for you I can keep being your fucktoy for the time being ehehe..."

You smile at him kindly and scratch him under the chin. He wags his tail again and displays his signature wide grin. His laugh is so cute. As he did a good job you figure it's time to stop the charade and let him have a real go at you.

"I wasn't really mad at you by the way."

He lifts his head up from your thigh, eyes wide open.

"Huh?"

"I was just fucking with you, I'm not grossed out or anything. You're still my cute little Levia-chan."

You pat him on the head. His eyes well up in tears from relief.

"R-Really? You won't abandon me?"

"No baby, I just thought this was the perfect excuse to push you to do dirty stuff for me. You're not mad right?"

Leviathan jumps into your arms, crying.

"I'm so grateful that a perfect girl like you would choose *me* to make you feel good. H-Had you not forgiven me, I would even be okay with being your sex slave if you'd like to."

"Don't be stupid, I'll let you be my one and only boyfriend. What about that?"

Levi lets you go, then while still grabbing your shoulders he looks at you, his eyes full of hope.

"Really? You'd allow me? You would take a lame fuck like me as your boyfriend?"

You pull him back in, kissing him on the cheek, near the corner of his lips.

"Don't say that. You're my cute little baby boy. Everyone has an ugly and filthy side to them, but beyond that you're a sweet cutiepie who watches magical girl shows, sews cosplays and easily cries at any sad scene in an anime. I mean, look at me, I just tricked you into thinking that I find you gross and pushed you to jerk off then suck me off. Isn't that objectively pretty terrible of me?"

Levi stays silent for a while before you can feel his two dicks poking at your stomach and pussy.

"N-Now that I know you weren't mad, that was probably one of the best moments of my life."

"Perv."

You kiss him again.

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Was initially planning on making them fuck at the end but it got too long. Though I'm not against making a part two if people like it ahah. AGAIN please don't hesitate to comment, I would love to read your thoughts!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #om! leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #leviathan smut #leviathan x reader #leviathan x y/n #leviathan x mc #hanaruri writes

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selfishdoll · 6 months

Text

FOUND OUT FT. VAMP! ARMIN ୨୧ ｡ ⟡ ⋆ ࣪. ໒

armin arlert, your good friend of two years and hard crush of one. you decided to become his roommate just three months ago and all has been well. except for the fact, a ludicrous idea has entered your mind. one so silly, you didn’t even want to believe it. what was it exactly? well.. that armin, was a vampire. this wasn’t some fantasy or fairy tale.. you weren’t bella and he wasn’t edward. there was no way, no way in hell armin was a vampire.. right?

❛author’s note...❜ ━━ please bare in mind i haven’t touched aot for a long time & only posting this fic for my reawakened obsession with the anime & manga. that said, if you think armin is ooc, i’m sorry— but again, i warned you (plus i’m not the creator). if you enjoy this, please give me more characters to make vamp versions of. of jjk or aot. and as always, please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos <3 (4680 WORDS)

It was common to question reality. To ponder about situations that were outside the norm. What if a zombie apocalypse happened? What if aliens were real? And finally, what if your good friend— turned roommate, was a vampire?

You felt silly as the thought, the pondering consumed you within the first week of living together. You really had no reason to believe Armin Arlert; a sweet young man with a heart of gold was some bloodsucking beast. Or rather, you didn’t want to believe it. Such information would drastically change the trajectory of the relationship you had with him.

The pipeline from friends — secret one sided pining — to prey wasn’t one you wished to follow.

Yet, all signs pointed to the answer; all signs pointed to Armin being a vampire.

For one, you’ve never seen him eat. Ever. Each time you offered some of your food, Armin would give you a gentle smile— while refusing. I already ate. Was the signature line he delivered, no matter the time of day. But, that wasn’t too concrete; he worked at home and you worked in a clinic— there was a possibility he was telling the truth.

The second piece of evidence may have been the key. The man would stock up his side of the fridge with this.. juice. Red liquid within clear bottles, the print labeled in a language you couldn’t understand. No matter how much you searched online, you simply couldn’t find it. So, you did the unthinkable.

You popped open a bottle, taking a swig. You expected a disturbing metallic taste; one that would cause you to spill the contents of your stomach. Instead a sweet fruity flavor tickled your tastebuds, causing your eyes to widen and quickly pull back from the bottle.

In time to see Armin entering the kitchen, flashing you a smile.

“I was wondering when you’d try them. I bought so many.” He spoke sweetly, informing you it was some random juice he bought whilst on a business trip.

With both his words and the concrete evidence, you believed him.

But there were so, so many more instances where you wondering if you were grasping at straws. His refusal to enter a home without access? Well, Armin was always polite. The way he avoided you whenever you got hurt? He did inform you blood makes him queasy. Or how each time you got your period the man just suddenly had a business trip? Armin did state his work schedule was weird.

It frustrated you to no end. You hated yourself for developing the thought in the first place. You already fucked falling for him a year ago, and now you just had to come up with the most ludicrous idea.

Armin Arlert, a vampire? Please..

The breath that escaped you was ragged, eyes pinched close and leaning your head against the steering wheel. The way a cramp could ruin your mood in a matter of seconds was beyond you. Truly, it was.

You were glued to your seat unable to move due to the pain within your stomach. Which could only be described as millions of knives being rammed directly into your uterus. A dramatic metaphor, but a fitting one.

A groan escaped you as you lifted from your curled position, the back of your head pressed against the seat. The pills you consumed just ten minutes ago had obviously not taken effect yet, leaving you unable to fight against the pain. You tried, you really did try to make it to work despite the aches— but you couldn’t. You pulled over into the nearest store parking lot just to make a quick call to your supervisor.

Thankfully, she was very understanding; even gently scolding you for attempting to work in the first place. The interaction caused you to smile, thanking her profusely and promising to make up the hours.

Now, all you had to do was get home. Though, as your eyes opened from its previous pained scrunch, you focused on the store in-front of you. A soft hum escaped you as turned the engine of your car off. A quick run to get some much deserved snacks was fine, right?

You opened the car door and exited, locking it behind you with a hand pressed against your stomach. It was comical attempting to massage the cramps, but the warmth of your hand was elevating the pain— slightly. Not much.

You approached the store doors and entered, flashing a smile to a worker that greeted you. You turned down an aisle whilst looking over the selection of snacks, kneeling to take in the rest of the shelf. While thinking over what you wanted, an idea popped into your mind.

Armin was always so doting and sweet whenever he went out to the store; always asking if you needed something. You wanted to do the same.

So without a second thought you grabbed your phone from your purse, clicking his contact and placing the receiver to your ear. The ringer went off two times before the man picked up, his usual tone entering your ears;

“Hey (Y/N)— are you okay? You don’t usually call me during work.”

You smiled, standing from your kneeled position. “I’m okay!.. well, not really. Cramps are kicking my ass right now,” You hummed, walking down the end of the shelf.

A silence entered the call for a moment before Armin spoke again. “You mean.. menstrual cramps?”

“Yeah!— sorry if that was too much to share.. Anyway, I’m at the store right now do you need anything?”

Armin cleared his throat a bit, the faint sound of something entering the call— but leaving quickly. “N—no. No, I’m fine. Thank you for asking, (Y/N).”

With chaste goodbyes you ended the call, placing your phone back into your purse. You finally decided on some gummies and chocolate, heading over to the register with a little pep in your step.

Pigging out on the couch seemed like the perfect day.

You left the store quickly after paying, entering your car even quicker and reaching your shared home in record time. Opening the door, you sighed as you placed your keys onto a table nearby; purse following. You walked towards the back of the house, glancing over at Armin’s closed bedroom door. With a small smile you walked up, pressing your knuckles against the maroon colored wood.

A minute passed before the door was opened, revealing his form. His eyes bored into your own, flashing the same gentle smile he always did. “(Y/N).. you should be resting.”

You smiled back at him, “Just wanted to check on you before I lay on the couch for the rest of the day.”

The man blinked as your words set in, watching you turn to enter your bedroom. Hesitantly, he followed, standing in the doorway. “On the couch?”

“Yeah! Don’t worry I’ll have a towel under me.”

“I wasn’t worried about that..” Was the faint mumble that escaped the blonde, words you didn’t hear. A soft sigh escaped him, however, blinking to glance at you. “Hope you feel better.” Armin said more clearly, turning to walk into his room after you gave soft gratitude.

You grabbed some pink bebe shorts and a random black tshirt, walking over to the bathroom with a pad in tow. After doing your business and changing, you entered your bedroom again to place your work clothes away— grabbing a clean towel shortly after.

You exited to enter the living room, smiling at the couch waiting for you. Walking over, you stretched the towel out along the cushions, pulling the coffee table closer for convenience. After grabbing your snacks and a water bottle, a stiff sigh escaped you as you laid across the couch. The towel was a bit uncomfortable if you moved, but you rather that then possibly leaking through the pad you wore.

Your hand reached for the remote beside you, turning the channel to a tv show you’ve currently been obsessed with; True Blood. A small chuckle escaped you as your cheek sunk into the pillow under you, placing the remote down. Maybe you were watching it too much, maybe that’s why you thought Armin was some blood sucking beast.

But, there was no way. You were literally on your period and he was.. well— normal. As normal as Armin Arlert was anyway.

You turned to open the pack of gummies, taking a bit in your hand before sinking back into the cushions. Your eyes remained glued to the screen as you popped one into your mouth, oblivious to the hard stare you were receiving.

An hour and a half passed with your continued watching, getting up in between to use the restroom. Your snacks were long gone, water bottle empty, and pill; worn off. You had zero energy to get up and grab some more, especially since you just found the perfect spot to help your cramps.

You hissed softly, moving to press your face deeper into the cushion. You’ve had a period for twenty-two years now, yet it always felt as if you were experiencing it for the first time. It was annoying, truly annoying. With a subtle groan your eyes blinked open, racking your mind for a moment before an idea peaked within you.

“Armin!” You called out from the living room while turning to lay on your back, hand strewn across your lower stomach. Moments passed before his bedroom door opened, footsteps entering the living room and revealing your roommate. Who looked a little tired. Strange, you’ve never seen him in such a way.

But, instead of inquiring you gave a little smile; “Could you grab my pills from my bedroom, and a water bottle?”

Armin’s eyes carried down your form for a moment, mouth opening before closing. Instead, he simply nodded; turning to head to your bedroom.

Maybe periods really did make him uncomfortable. You’ve never seen Armin so fidgety and nervous, as if scared to speak. It would concern you more if another cramp didn’t pierce you, causing a soft groan to slip past your lips. You heard Armin move from your bedroom to the kitchen, opening the fridge and closing it after.

You looked up at the man, watching him stand a few feet away; placing the items you requested down on the table. You sat up with a sweet smile, swinging your legs over the couch. “Thanks Min.” You spoke, watching him nod and turn to walk away. Instead of leaving him be, you spoke up again;

“You wanna watch something together? I’m sure being cooped up in your room is boring..” You don’t know why the suggestion escaped you, feeling embarrassment the moment you noticed Armin’s form stiffen. Your eyes turned to the pill bottle, twisting the cap slow. “It’s uh.. cool if you don’t want t—“

“Is this another test, (Y/N)?”

You blinked slowly as his words permeated the atmosphere, entering your mind and settling there for a split second. You thought over the sentence, tongue nervously swiping across your bottom lip the moment you realized his tone. It’s usual softness was gone, replaced with something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You tried to play off your silence, a soft— forced chuckle escaping you. “Test? What test, Armin?”

You watched as the man’s shoulders lowered, body turning to face you. Your teeth was caught on your bottom lip, feeling tension enter the air.

Armin looked at you, or rather observed you for a silent moment. You didn’t know what to do, trapped under the gaze; unable to look away. Your fingers gripped the towel underneath you, debating whether to apologize or demand to know what was suddenly wrong.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was truly five minutes; Armin spoke.

“First, you take a bottle of mine and drink it without permission.” His words were slow, as if listing off the directions of a cookbook. What’s more, Armin moved towards you, your chest bumping with each step he took. “Next, you accidentally, cut yourself whenever I’m in the kitchen.” He was close now, standing beside the table.

You sunk into the cushion behind you, gasping the moment he closed the space; hands pressed against the furniture— trapping you. “And lastly, you invite me to sit with you in such an innocent manner.. I don’t know whether to call you a genius or just plain naive, (Y/N).”

“Armin..” You breathed softly, feeling your mouth go dry. His eyes flicked between your body and lips, clearly struggling to focus on a single thing. “Armin, I—.. I’m confused, what are you talking about?”

Finally it seemed he had made a choice, gaze focusing onto your own. Silently, the man smiled, a forced one— a toothy one. Your eyes widened, breath hitching the moment you spotted the fangs placed perfectly in his mouth. A shudder went down your spine, gripping the towel even harsher.

“Oh wow..” Armin spoke lowly, stealing your attention from his canines. “I reveal something.. so, so troubling and yet— you’re excited. More then excited actually.. ecstatic, maybe?” The man pondered, coming even closer to you.

Your hands rose to grip his arms, gasping the moment you felt his face lower to your neck. As his teeth ghosted your neck, you felt your heart threatening to escape your chest. You pinched your eyes closed, twitched, even turned your head to the side.

And yet, Armin did nothing. He simply.. hovered there.

A frustration you didn’t wish to acknowledge build within you, manicured fingers digging into his cool, skin. “Armin..”

“What is it, (Y/N)? You want me to bite you, don’t you?” The words escaped him the moment you uttered his name, a hand lifting from the cushion whilst he pulled back from your neck. Now face to face, his fingers collected your chin to assure you didn’t glance away. “I thought at first you were concerned for your safety, maybe even scared. But no..” His lips quirked, thumb rising to smooth across your wet bottom lip. “You’re clearly far from scared.”

“Armin.. please just—“

“I will. I promise.” He interjected, releasing your face. Your eyes widened the moment he pushed your shoulder, laying you down on the couch. The cushion in-front of you sunk in as he sat down, hands dragging to your waist covered in shorts. “But first.. I think I’ll get my fill another way.”

Your eyes widened at his words, feeling his fingers hook under the thin pink fabric of your bottoms and panties, peeling them from your body in one swift motion. Embarrassment flooded through your body, instinctively closing your thighs.

Armin’s eyes switched from your legs over to your face, head tilting as he took in your nervous expression. To your surprise, a gentle smile stretched across his face, one that you’ve gotten used to, one that caused you to melt easily.

Noticing this, it didn’t take much to gently push your legs apart, featuring your cunt to him. “That’s a good girl..” Armin spoke softly, hand slipping under your shirt, spreading across your stomach. The man lowered until he was face to face with your slit, unfazed by the blood upon it.

You whimpered the moment his thick tongue glided up— hole to clit, hands reaching down to rest upon his hair. A soft groan escaped the man, rising up whilst licking his lips clean of your mess. It was clear all restraints were gone now, the wild look in his eyes causing your stomach to stir.

“Do you know how long I waited for this?” The man questioned you, resting on one hand; the other’s fingers gently gliding up and down cunt, collecting your mixed essence and blood. “You were gonna drive me crazy one day; parading in such small shorts, showcasing your skin to me.” His words escaped him shamelessly, fingers pushing past your folds to gently brush your clit, moving away before you could even moan.

“You wanted this from the beginning.. didn’t you?” Armin suddenly spoke, escaping the trance to look at your face. He watched as you shook your head far too quickly, a small no even escaping you. That alone caused his reddened lips to curl into a smile, “You should leave the lying to me, sweetheart.”

You gasped the moment he dove back down, lips pressed against your wet slit. The man wasted no time in allow his tongue to glide across your slit, pushing to licking at your clit. Your taste, your smell— it was enough to have him groan right into your pussy, drinking every crimson droplet that escaped you.

You thought you would feel uncomfortable, maybe even a little gross; getting ate out in such a state. But those thoughts melted the minute his lips wrapped around your swelling bud, teasing you gently with the points of his fangs. Your back was rising from the cushion now, squirming upon the towel underneath you.

Your hands lowered to his hair, fingers curling in the blonde tresses for a tight hold. With the way his tongue was moving against you, you needed leverage; you needed an anchor. You felt far too pliable, melting into the feeling as wanton moans escaped your slick lips.

Gasps of his name, sweet whispers of how good it felt. Your arousal mixed with blood was trickling freely from your entrance, making such a mess; one that Armin lapped up far too eagerly.

And the moment you felt his thick tongue curl inside your awaiting hole, oh— you were finished.

“Hah.. Fuck, Armin—!” You hissed softly, feeling the wet muscle twist and turn inside you, brushing against your gummy walls and delving on you like a meal.

Which, to Armin, you were.

The man groaned into you in response, hands moving to your thighs and gripping; halting your moving. You were forced to lay there as he ate you, a band forming within your stomach; long replacing the agonizing cramps.

Your moans bounced off the living room walls, face turning into the cushions as hot pants escaped you. Your toes were curling, a sweat presenting itself upon your forehead as the pleasure consumed you full; flooding his mouth with more crimson arousal.

Armin drunk you up eagerly, fingers digging into your skin to keep to right there. He licked you clean, leaving no spot untouched; savoring his plate. After moments of this pleasure it melted into overstimulated torture, hands falling and pushing against his head.

“A—armin.. fuck, I can’t—“ Your eyebrows were pushing close, rising to sit up; gasping the moment he tugged, forcing you to fall back on the cushions. His face was flush against your messy cunt, drinking you up completely. Little tears formed in your eyes, legs moving as your stomach clenched and clenched.

Your worried words fell on deaf ears, literally. With how much your warm thighs were wrapping around his head, he could barely hear a damn thing. Even so, Armin refused to leave— not until you came on his tongue again.

With more fearsome licks and sucks, hands massaging your skin as if coaxing you— Armin felt his dick jump the moment you cried out for him, coming all over his tongue again.

“Taste.. so good, so fucking good princess…” He drawled right into your center, the vibrations of his voice causing you to keen. Unlike before, he let up from licking you dry, raising from between your legs— a complete mess.

You watched as Armin’s tongue licked the rest of your taste off his lips, his eyes closed; relishing it.

His hands slowly dropped your body to the cushion, hand curling under his shirt and pulling it off his body. Once off, the man used it to wipe his face— tossing it to the ground shortly after.

He’d wash it later.

Armin moved to hover above you, hand falling to your chin and turning to looking at your eyes. The man smiled the moment your hand wrapped around his wrist, leaning down and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Your cramps gone?” He asked in a soft, coy tone. The small huff you released caused the man to chuckle, moving to plant his lips on your own.

You moaned as his tongue intruded your mouth, ignoring the foreign taste of yourself on your tongue. Instead, you focused on him sucking your own wet muscle whilst his hand lowered to your covered chest, a thumb brushing over your hardening nipple. Your soft pants entered his mouth, hips rising against him; caring less if you soiled his pants.

And it seemed he didn’t either, hand gripping your hip and grinding back against you. Your hands traveled up his back, a hiss escaping him from how your short nails dragged across his cool, uncovered skin.

Pulling back, Armin stared down at you, taking in your bruised lips and the clear want swimming within your dark eyes. To add to the pretty picture was your bonnet slipping off your head, exposing the perfect boho braids you’ve recently got; edges sweated off.

“Such a mess.” The man murmured softly, hand rising and treading from your neck to your cheek; cupping it to allow his thumb to drag under your eye. “My pretty mess..” Armin dragged, leaning closer as his hand released your face, falling to his hips to tug down his sweats and boxers.

Your noses brushed together, your soft breaths fanning against his face. “Yours..” You murmured back, staring into his eyes. Such words brought a smile to his face, stealing your lips in another kiss while his tip brushed against your soaked slit.

Pushing you wider, Armin angled to slowly push inside, gripping your thigh the moment you tensed up. He pulled back from the kiss, forehead rested against your own. “Mm, don’t tense up; relax for me.. Just, relax.” He cooed softly, thumb tracing the stretch marks that littered your hips. With less effort he pushed all the way inside, praising you softly;

“Taking me so well, pretty.. such a good girl.” Armin spoke, chuckling at the small whine that escaped you. Pressing a gentle kiss to the space between your eyes, the vampire rose to rest on his hunches. He observed you closely, searching for any sign of restraint or discomfort. The moment he discovered neither, he was pulling his hips back until only the tip was inside.

Armin then plunged his hips forward, the wet sound echoing in the room; followed by your soft moan. His hands moved to your hips, starting a languid pace. Despite how good you felt around his throbbing length, you didn’t want to hurt him. Despite how sweet your moans were, he controlled himself in fear of harming you.

But, you were far from compliant with the current pace.

Your hips rose to meet a thrust, the action alone causing a moan to escape the both of you.

“N—need more, Min.. please.” Was the soft beg that escaped your slick lips, rocking your hips; watching the way his eyebrows creased and lip was caught under his fangs.

His restraint was dwindling with each roll of your hips, each sickeningly sweet plead that escaped your throat. Finally Armin’s inhibitions melted away, the slow; carful moans switching into fast snaps of his hips.

Your head landed against the plush cushions, crying out as your legs wrapped around his waist. He was drilling you into the mattress at this point, a harsh grip to keep you in place as he fucked you. A string of curses escaped you, gripping the towel underneath you as your feet bounced with each thrust.

Armin lowered, the new angle causing your swollen bud to brush against his pelvic area; the new sensation completely turning your brain into mush. The man enjoyed it all, glancing down at you in complete awe. You looked far too beautiful like this, far too—

“Perfect.. so fucking perfect— fu..fuck—“ The man hissed, pressing an arm above your head whilst the other grabbed your cheeks. “Look at me, princess.. that’s it, keep your eyes on me. Watch how well you take me.” His words were driving you deeper and deeper, your walls clenching as jumbled cries of his name escaped you.

“A—armin—!”

His eyes were rolling back at the call of his name, drilling into you as he leaned down to your neck. Between the harsh bouncing of your body his fangs sunk right through your skin, gripping you even closer the moment a shriek escaped you.

A guttural groan escaped Armin as he delved on your blood, hissing the moment you creamed all over his cock. Yet, his hips never stopped; continuing to ruin you, using his form to keep you laid out and open on the couch.

Your eyes were meeting your skull, lips parted as shameless noises leaped from your raw throat. Soon he let up, licking the wound from his fangs and moving to be face to face with you again.

“Taking me so good, princess— like your.. fu—fucking made for me, shit—“ Armin closed his eyes tight, feeling his orgasm build. Your velvety walls were clenching him so nicely, pulsing around his heavy length with each drag of his hips. His balls were slapping against your center, the wet strikes entering the room of sex and combined moans.

Tears trailed from your eyes, staining your brown, chubby cheeks as your hand carried to his hip. Despite the pleasure, the pain of another orgasm was approaching; your body writhing as you furiously shook your head. “Fuck, I— fuck, I can’t Min!” You whined out, breath bitching as a feverish kiss was placed to your forehead.

His face was close now, nose brushing your own as his lips ghosted your own. “You’ve been so good so far, don’t stop now sweet girl.” Armin hissed between clenched teeth, a hand falling from your hip between your conjoined bodies. The moment his fingers rubbed against your little bud you were arching, the vampire easily chasing your body to continue the harsh circles.

“Fuck, fuck! Armin—!”

“That’s it, baby.. let it out, don’t hold it.” The man coaxed softly, eyebrows creasing as he felt his own orgasm arriving. Armin watched intently as your stiffened, a drawn out cry of his name escaping you while making a complete mess of his lower half. “That’s my girl.. my good fucking girl.” He leaned to plant another kiss to your lips all while his hips never stopped their pace.

Soon enough, a harsh groan entered your mouth as he flooded you with his come; some spilling out from inside.

You pulled back from his lips for air, clinging to him with your eyes pinched closed. Your body was aching, you felt sweaty, and frankly gross— but you didn’t care. Not one bit.

A subtle whine escaped you the moment Armin pulled out from you, his gaze settled on his come escaping you. With a slow rub of his thumb against your skin, the man leaned to stamp a kiss right above your heart. “I’ll start the shower up.”

You watched as he stepped off the couch, moving to walk over to the bathroom— only for your voice to stop him.

“Armin.. those bottles in the fridge, they weren’t blood right?”

He looked at you for a long moment before a little grin pulled his features. “No. Just the ones in back. I knew you would pick from the front.”

With that Armin resumed his walk to the bathroom, leaving you there; feeling just a little stupid.

Well, at least you were right. Your good friend of two years turned roommate turned something more— was definitely a vampire.

REBLOGS & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

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