#But it was definitely patchy and I definitely do not have a good handle on how it all basically hung together

[the-busy-ghost]

Alright uninformed rant time. It kind of bugs me that, when studying the Middle Ages, specifically in western Europe, it doesn’t seem to be a pre-requisite that you have to take some kind of “Basics of Mediaeval Catholic Doctrine in Everyday Practise” class. 

Obviously you can’t cover everything- we don’t necessarily need to understand the ins and outs of obscure theological arguments (just as your average mediaeval churchgoer probably didn’t need to), or the inner workings of the Great Schism(s), nor how apparently simple theological disputes could be influenced by political and social factors, and of course the Official Line From The Vatican has changed over the centuries (which is why I’ve seen even modern Catholics getting mixed up about something that happened eight centuries ago). And naturally there are going to be misconceptions no matter how much you try to clarify things for people, and regional/class/temporal variations on how people’s actual everyday beliefs were influenced by the church’s rules. 

But it would help if historians studying the Middle Ages, especially western Christendom, were all given a broadly similar training in a) what the official doctrine was at various points on certain important issues and b) how this might translate to what the average layman believed. Because it feels like you’re supposed to pick that up as you go along and even where there are books on the subject they’re not always entirely reliable either (for example, people citing books about how things worked specifically in England to apply to the whole of Europe) and you can’t ask a book a question if you’re confused about any particular point. 

I mean I don’t expect to be spoonfed but somehow I don’t think that I’m supposed to accumulate a half-assed religious education from, say, a 15th century nobleman who was probably more interested in translating chivalric romances and rebelling against the Crown than religion; an angry 16th century Protestant; a 12th century nun from some forgotten valley in the Alps; some footnotes spread out over half a dozen modern political histories of Scotland; and an episode of ‘In Our Time’ from 2009. 

But equally if you’re not a specialist in church history or theology, I’m not sure that it’s necessary to probe the murky depths of every minor theological point ever, and once you’ve started where does it end? 

Anyway this entirely uninformed rant brought to you by my encounter with a sixteenth century bishop who was supposedly writing a completely orthodox book to re-evangelise his flock and tempt them away from Protestantism, but who described the baptismal rite in a way that sounds decidedly sketchy, if not heretical. And rather than being able to engage with the text properly and get what I needed from it, I was instead left sitting there like:

And frankly I didn’t have the time to go down the rabbit hole that would inevitably open up if I tried to find out

[sunderwight]

Demon Shen Jiu is such a fun idea though.

Especially if he himself doesn't know. Like imagine, Yue Qi finds this abandoned baby and the baby is REALLY OBVIOUSLY not human. But this also enables Shen Jiu to survive being abandoned at such a young age -- a human baby would die without adequate nutrition or care, but demons are a little more resilient. Baby Demon SJ has a way more forgiving digestive system and can move under his own power from a much earlier age. By the time he's a year old he's hunting his own rodents and small birds, and has to be stopped from biting and mauling anyone he doesn't like. Which is most people. Qi-ge develops amazing reflexes.

Why do the slavers tolerate a demon baby hanging around? Maybe it's really not all that uncommon. Demons come across the borderlands from time to time, and are as liable to abandon their kids or die or etc as anyone else. It's maybe an open secret among slavers that demon-blooded kids are a better investment, even, because they can survive for longer on less. The only downside is if they don't ever look human enough to pass as human, because that limits potential buyers, but that's only relevant when the slavers are trying to sell them. For the purposes of having a network of street kids stealing and grifting and spying and etc, it's fine. A lot of the slavers themselves started out as demon-blooded street kids with no other options.

But in SJ's case, he pretty quickly starts passing as human. Mostly because he's quite strong, and he's convinced that he's the same as his Qi-ge, so he makes himself the same. Makes his hands look the same and his teeth look the same and etc. It's largely subconscious, and once he starts doing it, it becomes automatic. SJ forgets that he's a demon in the way that most people don't retain their earliest childhood memories -- although he remembers that some of the slavers were demons.

Then of course there's the question of why didn't the Cang Qiong cultivators notice?

A few options. One is that whatever kind of demon SJ is, it's really good at mimicking humans. Another is that he's only part demon, and like Luo Binghe, fully capable of handling both kinds of cultivation. So once he starts learning spiritual cultivation, even from a heretic like Wu Yanzi, he doesn't seem different from any other recruit with a patchy education on the subject. Anything else odd about him could be easily attributed to his exposure to Wu Yanzi and his wicked practices.

Although full demon SJ is a fascinating idea. (Also, it could contribute to all those qi deviations -- he's trying to cultivate AND "fake" human cultivation at the same time, I doubt Qing Jing's techniques are totally compatible with everything going on there even without the psychological turmoil.) Like I'd imagine Airplane wrote that SJ was abandoned on the streets as a baby, and the system was like "hmm he probably wouldn't survive that?" and then in some nine billionth wife arc, Airplane also creates a variety of demon that can fully pass as human (for some identity conflict with a prospective wife), even to the point of fooling human cultivators and demon-detecting tools. So the system just ties these two disparate pieces of world-building together in order to patch a critical plothole (Airplane doesn't know anything about babies). Which has the side effect that Shang Qinghua doesn't even know that SJ became a demon!

And SJ himself doesn't know. The only person who knows is Yue Qi.

Obviously this wouldn't come up much in PIDW, but it could be pretty funny in the SVSSS timeline. YQY just sitting there through the whole Luo Binghe being a half-demon reveal, wondering if he should say something. Subsequently being the most absolutely chill about the whole demon reveal thing anyway. Like he's definitely not upset that Luo Binghe is a demon, or part demon, and the multiple people who try to make a point about it just run afoul of his impenetrable smile and get nowhere.

Then eventually Yue Qingyuan decides that he should probably tell Bingqiu that Shen Qingqiu is a demon. For like, safety purposes if nothing else. He's kept the secret so long also for safety purposes (even if someone put Shen Qingqiu under a truth compulsion he wouldn't be able to admit to being a demon, because he himself doesn't know!), and he's done tons of stuff to prevent anyone ever finding out (although Xiao Jiu is so talented that he didn't have to do much), but Luo Binghe is the demon emperor. That changes things. If Shen Qingqiu is going to be visiting the demon kingdoms regularly then there's a chance something could reveal the truth unexpectedly, and that would probably be worse.

So Yue Qingyuan sits down and has a very serious discussion with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe about how Shen Qingqiu is actually a demon, was just the cutest little demon baby in fact, here he drew a picture from memory of what Xiao Jiu used to look like before he learned to look more human, and also how a lot of slave kids and slavers and people who fall through the cracks in society have demon ancestry, some more recent than others, and Shen Qingqiu always retained a certain discomfort around his own kind because of the adult slavers who sold him off, and etc etc.

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 1 - Worst Decision, Best Decision

Series masterlist

Chapter Summary: You've just finished a Masters back home in England, and, with little idea of what you want to do next, decide to spend the summer in Texas, staying with your mum's cousins, the Adlers. But its not the Adlers who pick you up from the airport: it's their handsome neighbour, Joel. Rating: Teen (for now) Tags/warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU! no outbreak, porn with plot. Word Count: 1.7k

The Texas heat is something else. You’ve hardly been stateside more than two hours and already it feels overwhelming, cloying and claustrophobic. It doesn’t help that the air-conditioning in the airport is sporadic and patchy. By the time you make it through security, into the dry heat of arrivals, your shirt is sticking to your back, hair plastered to your forehead and you’re wondering why you ever let your mother persuade you this was a good idea.

“Go to Texas,” she’d suggested, when you arrived home from your last university term, unsure of what to do or where to begin with starting a life for yourself, “stay with the Adlers – they’re family and god knows Connie would love to see you. Spend the summer there – see what happens.”

And so here you are, too old for a gap year, really, at twenty-five, too young to commit to anything for more than a summer, dragging your suitcase – one broken wheel courtesy of British Airways – through arrivals, wondering if you’ve just made the worst decision of your life. Danny and Connie are strangers but for the fact that they’re your mum’s cousins, though you’ve seen enough photos of them to know who you’re looking for. You look out over the crowded lounge, trying to spot them.

The man your eyes fall on definitely isn’t Mr or Mrs Adler, but he’s holding a sign that bears your name (along with an assortment of hearts and two poorly drawn butterflies). He’s younger than Danny and Connie, maybe late thirties, dark hair curling around his ears, a patchy beard that only accentuates the strong line of his jaw and nose. His eyes – dark, hooded – are searching the crowd of passengers emerging from arrivals. You slow, watching the man, wondering who he is, wracking your brains to remember if the Adlers have a son or brother they haven’t mentioned before in their letters and Christmas cards, but you come up blank.

Eventually, while you’re still wondering who this man is and why he’s got a board bearing your name, your eyes lock with his. He raises his eyebrows – a question – and you sigh, start off towards him, the broken suitcase bumping against your ankles. When you reach him he holds out a hand for you to shake.

“’m Joel,” he says, voice deep, a smooth Southern drawl that you thought only existed in movies, “I’m Danny’s neighbour. They’re sorry they couldn’t be here, they had to take Mrs Adler – Nana – to a hospital appointment. I’m gonna drive you back to theirs, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” You take the offered hand, shake it, trying not to think about how large it feels compared to your own, how much strength seems to rest in the callused palms and thick fingers. “I’m guessing you didn’t make that sign?”

Joel looks at the name card in his other hand, colour rising on his cheeks as he takes in the love hearts and butterflies that have been painted onto it.

“I can’t say I did.” He replies, “You’ve got Connie to thank for that.”

You laugh and he smirks too, mouth curving up with amusement, eyes crinkling as he does.

“I’m parked right outside,” he says, “I can take that, if you want?”

You hand him the suitcase, about to warn him about the broken wheel but he lifts it easily by the handle, the weight nothing to the shifting muscles that stretch the sleeves of his t-shirt.

His truck is huge, obscenely large compared to the cars you’re used to seeing back home in England. You clamber in, take in the toolboxes in the bed, a hard hat strewn on the back seat, large work boots in the footwell that dwarf your own battered Converse.

“‘scuse the mess.” Joel says, getting into the driver’s seat. “Been a busy week.”

“You’re a builder?” You ask.

“Contractor. Me ‘n my brother, though mostly me, if I’m being honest. You?” He asks the question without looking at you, already starting the engine, something grating in the ignition as he does so.

“Nothing, yet.” You reply, pulling your seatbelt on, “I just finished university – college – and I’m still kind of figuring it out.”

“What did you study?”

“Maths, then a Masters in Theoretical Physics.”

“Shit, smart girl.”

Something about the way he says this, his eyes lingering perhaps a little longer than they need to on your face as he does so, makes your stomach flip.

“Know what you’re going to do with it, now you’re done?”

“Not a clue,” You reply, looking out of the window as the city opens out around the truck.

“Well, don’t rush into anything. Nothing like your twenties to spend messing around trying things out.”

“That what you did?”

He scoffs out a laugh at this, gives you a sideways look. “Not exactly. I had a kid at twenty-two and spent the rest of my twenties figuring that out. Still am, really.” He pauses, flicks his sun visor down and taps a small polaroid that’s slid into the back of the mirror. “She’s thirteen now. Sarah.”

The girl in the photograph is pretty, all bright eyes and curly hair. She’s leaning back in a chair, giggling at something the photographer has just said.

“She’s beautiful,” You say, and you can see the pride bubbling up in him as he flips the visor back up.

“Smart, too. Struggles a bit with math, now they’ve started bringing in algebra. I’m not much help, either. Once you get past adding and minusing, I’m lost.”

You laugh at this, grin at him. “I’d be happy to help out. God knows I’ll have plenty of free time, and I like teaching.”

“Might just take you up on that.” He replies, giving you a soft smile in return.

There’s a dimple in his cheek as he does so, visible only through the patchiness of his beard. He seems to get more and more handsome the longer you look at him. Leaning back in the truck, you can’t help but let your eyes trace his profile, the strong curve of his nose, plushness of his lips. It’s more fascinating than the concrete jungle that’s passing by the windows of the truck.

He’s a good driver: steady, reassuringly confident. He lets one arm rest across the back of the truck’s long seat, the other gently holding the steering wheel, guiding the truck down the freeway. If you laid your head back against the seat it would rest in the curve of his wrist. You don’t, but you can feel the heat rolling off of his arm anyway on the back of your neck, warm in contrast to the cool air blowing through the AC unit. You let your eyes gently close, jetlag starting to creep up on you. Your limbs are stiff and sore from the long plane journey. The hot sun beats down through the windscreen, casting patterns on your closed eyelids. It’s peaceful, here, in the truck with this handsome stranger, and before you know it you’ve fallen asleep, head lolling back on the seat.

Next thing you know Joel’s gently saying your name, one large hand on your shoulder, rousing you from sleep. You open your eyes, squint against the bright sun. He’s parked up in the driveway of a large, brick built house on a suburban street. The garage door is open: tools are stacked up inside, ladders and racks of scaffolding. The drive and lawn are neat, a little scrubby from the heat. You turn, look over at a house you recognise as the Adler’s, the one you’ve seen in it family photographs sent with the yearly Christmas card. Your new home, for the next three months.

Joel holds the door of the truck open for you and your climb out, get your feet down on the solid concrete driveway. He moves round to the back, tugs out your suitcase like it weighs nothing, even though your arms are still aching from dragging it through security hours earlier.

“Connie left me the key,” Joel says, reaching a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a brass key on a flowery keyring. “I’ll help you get your stuff in, then leave you to settle in. Connie and Danny should be back in an hour or so.”

The Adler’s house is nice. Quaint, a little dated, décor straight from the 1980s, but it’s homely. You feel settled immediately. There’s a photograph of your mum on the bookshelf, from back when she was a kid, long before she moved from Texas to London.

Joel puts your suitcase at the foot of the stairs, asks if you want him to take it up for you, but you’re not sure which room you’re staying in so you tell him to leave it, that you can sort it out later. There’s a whining from the back room and you look at Joel, questioningly.

“That’ll be Mercy,” He says, moving through the hall to the kitchen, swinging open the door.

A bundle of fur throws itself down the hallway towards you, tail wagging. Joel watches, grin on his face as you bury your face in the dog’s soft coat and wrap your arms around him.

“I’d better head off,” He says when you stand up, brushing fur from your clothes. “You need anything, just give me a shout. You know where I am.”

“Thanks, Joel.” You say, watching him pull open the door, t-shirt bunching up around his shoulders revealing a tanned strip of skin just above the waistband of his faded jeans. “And I meant what I said about helping Sarah with that maths homework.” You add as he steps out onto the porch.

He turns back, shields his eyes from the sun to look at you, mouth turned up in a grin. “And I might just take you up on that, darlin’.”

And then he’s gone, long strides taking him back across the lawn and towards his own house. You lean back against the closed door and shut your eyes, basking in the imprint of Joel’s handsome face etched on the back of your eyelids, wondering if you’ve just made the best decision of your life.

[snek-panini]

At long last, I have a new book to share! Feels like forever since the last one. This is Vita Nova, a fantastic Good Omens fic by @philoomenaa that I asked to bind way back in October. It took me a while to get here and I learned several new techniques for this bind but it was so very worth the wait. It's an excellent pre-season 2 story from 2019-2020, involving the fandom's favorites dealing with an unexpected bout of both humanity and memory loss. It's just...really really good and I love it.

More photos and process talk under the cut! There are a lot of details to see with this one.

One of the things I learned for this bind was homemade book cloth. I used the heat n bond method and had pretty good results with this satiny bronze cloth that I found in the Joann's remnant bin. The making of the cloth was fairly straightforward but it handles very differently to regular book cloth. The satin is really slippery and absolutely would not hold a crease at the hinge. I think it also shrank a little at the gluing stage? Which sounds weird but I left my usual amount of space for the corner turn-ins but still had teeny tiny gaps on three of the corners, which has never happened to me before. I also had an issue with glue seepage when I applied HTV to the cover and spine. You can see this in the images above, and here in the spine photos:

Part of the reason it has that fancy art nouveau frame on the cover is an attempt to hide this. I think it's the heat press re-activating the heat n bond to cause it. I found out two things here: that fabric requires less press time than book cloth or cardstock, and that if you move the heat press slowly but constantly like an iron it is way less likely to do this. I was super disappointed that it happened but now, a few days later, it doesn't seems so bad. I guess some items just come with a little personal history already baked in.

Here, have some more glamour shots:

The geometric endpapers were chosen specifically to go with this cloth. I found them at the same craft store and knew I had use them together, they look so incredible. And I learned edge gilding for this project! It was very annoying. The final result here is with heat transfer foil, and I did about six tests on scrap text blocks before I got a result I was at all satisfied with. I tried rub n buff (great coverage, not shiny enough, kept coming off on my fingers even after curing for 2 days) and an actual gilding kit (flaked off as soon as I separated the pages). The heat foil still has some patchy spots but was by far the best-looking result. I also learned double-core end bands for this project! Because I wanted some kind of match for those opulent endpapers and didn't want to settle for just two colors. I think they came out pretty well for a first try and I'll definitely be doing them again.

Couple of photos of the ribbon I chose for the bookmark. It's probably a little too wide for a book this length; you can see in the end band photo that I had to fold it in half to get it to lay in the spine properly. But it looks so good with the other design elements that I couldn't resist. Luxury all the way on this one.

Speaking of luxury, have a look at the interior:

From left to right, we have the title page, the ornament I chose for the chapter numbers, and the scene break divider. All the images came from rawpixel with just the lightest amount of editing from me. The chapter image is the same as the star on the title page, but I made it gray and took out the center to turn it into a frame for the numbers. The cloth and endpapers really set the tone for this one all the way through, and all the other design choices followed from there. It's really gorgeous, guys. I love it so much.

And that's it! That was the last work in progress I had from 2023, and I'm so pleased to have finally finished it. Hope you like it, AMidnightDreary!

[ichorblossoms]

for the ask meme can i get uhhhh yarrow + face, serena + motion, grimm + favorite

HI HELLO JANE!!!!! sorry this took awhile to get around to answering i wrote all the text and told myself i was gonna draw pictures for these and then i got distracted because i wanted to draw. other pictures instead :,D BUT without further ado !!

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

i don't trust my writing skills enough to write a description. their face:

i talked a little bit abt their facial features in this ask, but yeah, the Bee Stuff is definitely what people notice first. yarrow's modification was an experimental one, so while most people are kinda used to seeing humods with fur on their faces or weird ears or maybe horns and whatnot, invertebrate features are rare and jarring. this does cause issues when you're trying to be discreet, so yarrow tries their best to wear bandanas or masks. even pre-modification they actually wear something to the effect of a bandana or surgical mask often; partially because They Are A Doctor and also because they live in a mining town that doesn't give a shit about how much dust is kicked up from the open-pit mining

pre-modification i'm not sure what people would notice first; they have a few small defining features like their dimples, yellow-gold eyes, straight teeth, patchy facial hair, and mole on their right cheek, but overall nothing out of the ordinary. i think it's less features people notice, and a general impression of openess? he's quick to smile, talkative, and expressive, so people usually feel like they can approach him

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

having trained in martial arts for most of her life, serena's very coordinated and flexible! she also has a muscular stature and she can make herself very difficult to move if she doesn't want to. she's aware of her size and generally has a slouch to her posture and walks with a bit of a trudge and lope if that makes sense? she has enough control though to where she can move almost freakishly quiet and it scares people on occasion

ofc she doesn't wear clothes, but she does have her prosthesis!

she's got both an everyday and a sport prosthesis, so while her movement isn't necessarily affected by that, she's less willing to run or do anything intense if she just has her everyday prosthesis on (that's the one i draw, i need to look more into sport prostheses for humans and adapt a design from there)

bc she's a congenital amputee, the only real adjustment she's had to do irt her leg is adapting to a new prosthesis every few years, so she has a solid sense of moving with or without it on. i've been trying to determine if she has smthin like an adapted wheelchair as well, but since dragons are quadrupeds and she's only missing part of a limb, it may not be necessary when she also has her tail and wings to help counterbalance during movement...? there's also the factor that she doesn't have a lot of money, so regardless of what she has to assist her, it's not always top-quality and she's learned to live with a certain level of discomfort and pain

speaking of wings, flying is something dragons can do, but it's a lot like running where most ppl can't do it for longer periods of time unless they train. it's not as necessary in modern society, so most dragons can fly for short bursts if needed/for fun. with the exception of a few who do things like, idk fly to work, most rely on transit bc it's easier. serena's ability to fly is Okay, she's accumulated some damage to her wings over the years (side effect of martial arts where other people have claws and horns), which makes her less aerodynamic and more easily tired out. she's got a good handle on her body and how it moves, so she's actually pretty graceful in the air and not aware of that fact at all. overall, she prefers not to fly, but still maintains a healthy habit of working out those muscles so they don't atrophy, which is a thing that happens with modern dragons.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

am i allowed to saw wrench here. i'm gonna say wrench

saying wrench is grimm's favorite accessory is actually a stretch bc it loathes wearing it, but adores wrench as a companion but if we are purely talking abt clothing here, grimm's not the sentimental sort, so it doesn't hold on to things once they're to worn nor does it worry about wearing things out. which is the boring answer

wrench is only worn as armor a handful of times in-story and in dire circumstances (that i. have not quite figured out yet <3). grimm fucking hates wearing it, hates the way it takes them back to their past, hates the way it doesn't quite fit their body anymore and hurts if they wear it too long, hates why they even have to wear it, but it's protection and a weapon in one, and they don't have many options.

i talked abt wrench a little bit when you asked abt it here, but wrench is both an artifact of grimm's past and a dear friend. as an animal companion/robot grimm does maintain wrench to an extent and it's a good dog that doesn't age like normal animals, they have a close pet/owner bond. when it comes to "wearing" it, transforming (so to speak) doesn't cause any wear and tear on wrench itself, since that is one of the purposes it was built for, but the situations in which grimm would don wrench may result in damage and there's also an element of wanting to keep wrench safe. aside from being armor, wrench can also do stuff like jam signals for short periods of time and sense heat signatures, so it does have an interest in preserving wrench for its own work and safety as well, but it's also a pet, yknow?

post-story i'm p sure grimm and yarrow would get something equivalent to married. yarrow's the romantic and the one to suggest it ofc, but grimm's like "hell, if i'm going to symbolically tie their life to someone else's it wouldn't be anyone but yarrow" and whatever sort of wedding band/necklace/wearable symbol they choose would become grimm's favorite, esp since it represents a version of themself they like being

[docholligay]

Never Have I Ever

This is a short story collection I got as a gift quite awhile ago, and as one might expect it took forever for me to work it into my reading list because I’m just like this and I have 86 things I always want to read. 

Anyway, very glad this wasn’t a commissioned read, as I apparently have managed to lose the book somewhere between my room and pool deck, which is admittedly pretty impressive, even for me. I’m hoping it’s just under something back in the room. 

SO! Non-spoilery: This is a Filipino-American paranormal collection of stories, that leans heavily on the knowledge of FIlipino culture and creature. Like all short story collections, it’s definitely patchy, but comes in with some really beautiful stuff here and there. Yap seems to struggle a little bit with endings occasionally. 

SPOILERY: 

So I can’t actually decide if I liked this or not. Yes? But also no. I saw the pull quote from Tamsyn Muir on the cover and was like, ‘Oh great, when it came down to it, I did not like Gideon the Ninth. Fantastic” BUt there was a lot lot lot more for me in this book than Gideon. 

I CAN tell you that I wish I hadn’t been reading it poolside, because I don’t have a lot of exposure to Filipino culture and go I had to google a LOT for this collection, which I absolutely do not mind doing, I like to learn, but while I’m trying to relax in the hot spring, having to google a bunch of stuff to try and grasp the context of what’s going When I say this book requires a solid footing in Filipino culture, I mean, there are entire lines of dialogue, untranslated, in Filipino. 

It is patchy--A Spell for Foolish Hearts, for example, feels TOTALLY out of place in the collection, which is mostly darker in tone and subject, and then...we have a fluffy gay boy story in San Francisco. The story itself, while not being to my taste, isn’t BAD, just a bit saccharine--okay, a LOT bit saccharine, and it turns out he’s dating the mist of San Francisco and there’s a funky sitcom mixup that leads to a romcom style breakup and gag gag lots of you would LOVE this but it just ain’t for me-- but it feels like a friggin pothole in the interruption of the flow of the collection. The first story, which I can’t remember the name of, was, for me, very “yeah, yeah, the monstrous feminine, we’ve all seen it” and while it’s not terrible, I suppose, it doesn’t break any ground. Many of her stories end hanging, which is fine, but they feel unfinished in a way. There’s not a lot of great drop lines. Sometimes I think Yap gets real tangled up in THE MESSAGE I AM CONVEYING and it takes away from her truly good handle when she allows things to get creepy. 

Now, to stories I loved: 

Have you Heard the one about Anamaria Marquez?: This was a great story that really played into gossip and what it is to be remembered, with a fairly light touch of possession and belief. I loved the way the rumors about Anamaria’s ghost wavered from wildly ridiculous to plausible, in keeping with the ways that all high schools have a ghost and that ghost always has a tragic story. 

Asphalt, River, Mother, Child: This was maybe my favorite story in the whole thing, despite the fact that if someone accused it of being heavy-handed, I wouldn’t disagree. My friend actually said this story reminded her of my writing, which I found insanely flattering. Its about corruption and death and innocence and best intentions, and the exhaustion of compassion, how you can help so little, even if you are a goddess of sorts, but that small but still means something. 

Hurricane Heels: This is a grown up magical girl story! I could have written a variation on this idea, I fucking love it. I don’t even know that I think it’s the most artful story in the collection, but this was the story that made my friend decide to give this to me, and you know what? She’s right. 

How to Swallow the Moon: You see literally every beat of this story coming, if you’ve been around the block once or twice, but it kind of doesn’t matter. The only thing I don’t like about this story is that it’s written in second person, which is not the first time Yap does that. I don’t know if it’s to prove that she can, but there’s nothing about this story that fucking requires it to be in the second person. But, otherwise, it’s a beautiful and lyrical take on the whole ‘princess and handmaid’ type story trope, which really flattens how good I genuinely think the story is. The description in this story is as good as Yap ever gets in the whole collection, and I actually suppose if I had any other mild criticism of this story, which is once again a criticism of the collection itself, is, this story doesn’t fit. I actually think this would go better in a different collection, maybe one with Spell for Foolish Hearts, actually. I think many of y’all would love this one--nicely written stock fantasy beats, gay, happyish ending but not cloying. 

So, yeah, there we are! I guess I would say I DID like it, in general

[viviskull]

@ask-experiment-1006-theprototype : x

“I appreciate it. But I am fine. I do not need to rest right now.” He nearly mumbles this. He wasn’t quite sure why, but some days he just felt low on energy. His body almost demanding that he sleep. But he didn’t wish to, not yet. No he wanted to make sure that the tasks he had set out for the day were done and that things within the factory were secure before he even attempted to sleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he fought off sleep, sleep that came from exhaustion brought on by the many tasks he sets for himself. The factory is large and his form his heavy, to a point, that combined with the many aches and pains he has from the many things that has happened to him, it’s bound to make one tired. It doesn’t really help that he stays up for days on end to ensure he gets his tasks done. Always putting others before himself. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t take it, he’s handled far worse. Though that doesn’t make the exhaustion weigh any lighter on him. In fact it simply makes it worse. While he’s not a creature opposed to sleep, he has a horrid tendency of ignoring the fact that though he has mechanical pieces, he is also organic in nature as well and needs to let his body rest when it demands it. He looked towards her creation for a moment. “I will definitely use it when I do however. It looks very comfortable.”

“Aww, really?”  Sitting up from where she once rested within her giant self made nest made of old faded blankets and lumpy, patchy pillows she found earlier collecting dust in a broken closet, the dame steadies herself into a criss-crossed position upon the laid out fluffy quilts.  She sets her hands behind her.  “Why, ain’t ya not even gonna try it out just a little?”  A quick tilt of her head settles in as she looks up towards the other with a raised brow.  ”Not even a teeny weeny bit now?  Just for a few minutes, maybe?”

If not for his own murky exhaustion nipping at her as well, she wouldn’t have been pushing her own set limits with the other a little if her empathy hadn’t been set on taking in any emotion that decided to cling to her on the regular.  Emotions of another were often strange for her, with them often coming in waves or hanging over her like a cloud that would sometimes fog her thoughts if she didn’t pinpoint the exact stinging sensation of another being’s heart, and a lot of the time it’d linger like an gripping itch she just had to scratch.  The creature’s tiredness had pricked her skin when they first met.  And already again, it would appear he had been overworking himself once more.  She thought the blanket nest might’ve been a good idea; she had found an old stash of comforters and quilts in a more untouched room of the facility.  Vivi figured, when this place had once held tours for the public and those of children alike, their older purpose had been for letting guests rest if they were to be stuck in here in the middle of a wild storm or something of the weird sort.  She had thought, with all these blankets seeming to be still in good condition (and free of bed bugs too), she may as well put them to better use!

So to say she was hoping to lure the other in to at least try the next out a little?  She wouldn’t deny it if she tried.  She hid her own fatigue well, yet out of habit.  Coffee helped when she needed to keep herself alert for the troubles that lived within this place, but treating a problem with another wasn’t often the best solution long term.  And if she could help it?  She might well help her friend, even if she had to drag them into it if she must.

“It’s not like your tasks ain’t really going anywhere, ya know.”  She says.  “Ya do a lot around here from what I’ve been seeing.  If anybody needs a break to just lay down for a while, ya fit the bill.”

[containatrocity]

"I don't have much of a problem with 'em. They're food, supplies, or a future hat, just depends on how ya strip the bodies." Of all the people of Huntsville, Mallard Romero seemed to be one of the most alarmingly well adjusted- and anyone bothering to ask around about him even in the smallest capacity knew why. He'd been born and bred for exactly this- societal collapse, the end times, raised by a paranoid old woman like a feral animal himself- no, it wasn't like a man like Mal to have a problem with critters. To him, they were just prey. That was probably why he had found himself in position as Game Warden- he'd been the deputy in his time in the military, taking on the position when he was on leave to return home- and with the death of his predecessor in 2016, Duck quickly stepped up to fill the role.

It's one he does well, albeit perhaps a little harshly. "Ah, the ol' girl's still got some life in her, don't discredit her yet- the bones are good." He declares, moving past her with a shrug. The limp is slight, but it's present, favoring his left side in a way that's more than connected to the burn scars leaving part of his beard patchy, it doesn't do anything to make him less handsome, in that 'backwoods sort of way'- but it also doesn't make that terse expression so permanent on his features any easier to deal with.

Duck's not blind, and some part of him is impressed by the kind of woman who could manage to look put together in a place like Huntsville, but it's a sign of the times- a vanity he knows this place will do away with, soon enough.

"If you've got the Mark, I'll take a handle and call it even." He smirks, coming to a stop in front of the wall. "Who knows, maybe it's one a' the ghosties. Somebody's dead Uncle Baxter gonna burst forth in the middle a' little Billy's Bat Mitzvah, really liven the party up." He taunts, tapping along the panels with the steel toe of one of his boots. "In honesty, it's probably jus' a raccoon, they've been movin' into town more." He reasons, pausing as one tap returns a scrabbling sound from just behind the panel. "You didn't have much dealin' with mother nature before ya turned up here, did ya darlin?" He questions with a slight grin as he steps back.

"Because you an' I have terribly different definitions of 'big.'- Ain't a bad thing. Some men might find that flatterin, actually. This party business your thing before ya wound up trapped out here with the yokels too?" It's cheeky and sarcastic, the Warden leaning to the radio at his shoulder. "Hey, Rus, you around?"

"Go for Craven?"

"Made it out to Sally's. You owe me a jar of 'shine."

"FUCK." Duck lets out a laugh, releasing the button a moment later, turning back to Amara with a slight shrug. "I'll have to cut out this panel to get the offending so-and-so outta the wall. I can reinstall it so you never even know I was in there, but if I don't well- this place is gonna stink to high heaven when summer hits and you got a possum rottin' away in the insulation."

to say her new life was glib was a vast overstatement. her skills succeeded in the world of technology, the modern times, a world where internet flowed free and new devices were the boner pill for every rich white yuppie from her parents ages right down to the pre-teens who begged for the newest iphones from a man in big red suit. stuck in the dark ages was a brand new world to her and the only thing she had to lean back on was the status of a hobby she pursued in her teens. and it was FAR below her.

then again, so was this entire little town. hands on hips, she tensed when she heard a voice, cadence of an accent she still had yet to get used to. a sigh elicited from exasperated lips as dark brows furrowed. "oh honey...don't we ALL have a critter problem." sarcasm explicit as head ticked and she looked the man over for a moment. he was handsome, in a backwoods kind of way and she knew from about 400 feet away that his hair was screaming for some moisture.

if the man had a makeover, he'd be semi-fuckable. fingers dove into lightened curls as she shrugged easily. "heard something scratching in the walls...sounds big...and fuck if i know the kinda damage one of these things could do to a building that looks like its last good day was in the 17th century." hand carelessly waved towards the back wall where she'd last heard the damned thing before her brows furrowed and arms folded across her chest. "and what's payment to you? cash? credit? case of maker's mark?" only one of those were actually viable of course and the first was almost completely useless; still the deadpan sarcasm remained.

[pdalicedraws]

I have both ‘significant time skip’ and ‘character redesigns’ on my bingo sheet, and realized that with the new ep coming out on Saturday it’s my last chance to take my own swing at what those designs could be! So here’s a shot at the gang, six months later, and some headcanons. 

(Yes, I know there’s a trailer and promo images out, and this might all already have been jossed, but don’t tell me so. I’m a liveblogger so I’ve been avoiding spoilers like the plague; I did briefly see the poster but all I saw was “spooky graveyard vibes and Luz is wearing a beanie”.)

Gus is not coping well and is trying to hide it. He knows about Grimwalkers and hasn’t told Hunter he knows— he’s not even sure Hunter knows— so he’s been holding that in, he’s the youngest, and he misses his dad, plus he feels guilty about everything from ‘I always wanted to go to the human realm so it’s somehow my fault we’re stuck here’ to ‘I cast the illusion that let Luz sneak out to the Head’. He’s had another growth spurt and become an absolute beanpole, and he also has a bunch of patchy facial hair starting to come in but he hides it with an illusion because he does not want to learn to shave from anyone but his dad. 

Hunter also had a massive growth spurt, but instead of regular Witch Puberty it’s just because he can actually digest the food here. He shot up and filled out and dyed a red streak into his hair with Amity’s semi-grudging help. He still cuts the underside short but has let the top grow out a bit, and wears it in a little topknot; he won’t admit why but everybody knows. He insisted on getting a part-time job, but he can’t have Flapjack with him on the clock so he wears one of their shed feathers. He likes wearing tight clothes, which is mostly genuine and because the pressure helps keep his scars from aching, but there’s also a little bit of the fact that he and Gus both had growth spurts and Camila doesn’t have a ton of money for new clothes. On the outside, it seems like he’s coping the best out of the group, but it’s pretty much just because his big brother instinct and guard training kicked in at the same time and he’s suppressing his own emotions for the sake of looking after everybody else. Eventually he’s going to crash. 

Luz is… a disaster. Girl already blames herself for everything, and at this point? Hell. She feels like she’s failing the only friends she has because they’re having trouble acclimating to the human realm, she’s terrified that Eda and King might be dead, that the whole isles might be destroyed, and because she’s her she’s pretty sure it’s all her fault. Her glyphs don’t work here, she’s remembering just how out of place she was at home, she’s watching her basilisk baby sister get along with humans better than she ever did, and it’s… rough. She’s putting all her energy into trying to find a way home. Well, the one other constructive thing she’s doing is that she’s picked up the clarinet again, which she used to play in sixth grade— she’s determined to be able to play something for Raine when they meet again. Which they definitely will. Eventually.  She’s the only one of the group who hasn’t let her hair grow out longer, which wasn’t planned, I just gave everyone else longer hair bc I’m salty about the omnipresence of ‘cut off a characters hair to show she’s Matured’

Amity is handling it. She’s okay. Well, she’s okay as could be expected, which isn’t really okay. She’s worried about Luz, she’s trying to make a good impression on Camila (she’s not really aware that she made a fantastic impression on the first day— not with her careful, heels-together, carefully rehearsed introduction in Spanish, though that was adorable, but with the moment she doesn’t know Camila saw when she was sitting with Luz, holding her hands in hers, whispering to her that she did everything right and they’d make it in the end). She’s studying up on all the human realm trivia she can find— they recognize her at the library— helping Camila with the house, being there for Luz, trying to be helpful in every way she possibly can. She’s been carefully maintaining her lilac hair with her natural brown underlayer, and she’s been helping Hunter and Willow with their streaks too. It makes her feel like she’s succeeding at something. 

Willow is being crushed on by every wlw in the greater Gravesfield area who doesn’t already have a partner, and she has no idea. That’s not relevant, though. She’s trying to be the strategizer and team leader, she’s trying to be mom friend, she’s trying to grow enough produce out behind the house to relieve Camila’s grocery bill, she’s trying to let Gus stop pretending he’s fine, she’s trying to keep it together. Hunter still calls her Captain, and it’s wonderful because it’s a sign of how much faith he has in her but it’s also a lot of pressure. She quickly learnt how to play human soccer and drags the others out for a kickabout every weekend in order to keep them all active, and because she remembers something Viney said once about endorphins. She’s been keeping a meticulous journal for the sake of telling her dads everything that’s happened, when she eventually sees them again. 

Vee is conflicted and feels bad about being conflicted. She genuinely adores Luz, she knows she’s such a good person, she’s so grateful for all her help, but she also fears that her return means that her space in the world is disappearing again. She’s changed her human appearance up a little— made her skin a touch darker, closer to Camila’s, given herself her spots back, made her hair the same blue as her ear frills in her true form. She’s also getting steadily femme-r as she differentiates herself from Luz, and has been watching a lot of 90s horror and getting style cues from the final girls. She spun a convoluted yarn to her friends about having been Parent Trapped as a wee child, raised by her and Luz’s crazy great-uncle, and taking her place at camp when she ran away to hang out with a friend out of state; they don’t believe a word of it but they don’t suspect the truth either, and if it turns out their friend is actually named Valentina, not Luz? They’re cool with that. Her sister’s fun too, but Vee is cooler. 

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[tastyykpop]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛-Final

Pairings: jaemin x reader

Genre: smut, fluff (mostly at the end but it's short 🤠)

<previous>

Warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, punishment, overstimulation, edging, face slapping (literally slaps her once), choking (wOw iM sO sHocKeD), hair grabbing, degradation, jaemins gets angrier throughout the story, fingering, finger sucking, praising, unprotected sex, soft sex, y/ns pretty dumb but I think we knew that by now, once again jaemin calls himself nana because shut up

Tag list: @ahgastayzen @allykookiez @wooyugta @dreamlesswonder86 @taetaeismy @nanaysa @patchi-chi @simplicitysbabe @sweetjaemss @huangvibez @kaitherring @xxjaemchenct

It was obvious how tense and awkward jaemin was the entire time you stayed at his house, which lasted longer than you thought. You stayed for two days, per jaemins request, and you thought what if he's finally angry and decides to break. No, it was the complete and utter opposite. Jaemin was sweet, something you've barely seen when he used to bully or make fun of you before all this happened. He made sure you were okay staying with him another night and took care of you when you weren't hungover.

Did anything special happen though? Nope, just you and jaemin cuddling every so often while binge watching Netflix shows while he sometimes cracked jokes here and there.

It was definitely a sight to see. Even made you wonder if this is what its like to date him.

"Nana," you spoke, jaemin lifting his head off your shoulders to give you his attention, "Get up, we need to go to school."

Jaemin groaned, putting his head down on your pillow like chest and began, "Can't we just skip school?" He whined, "Maybe play a bit too?" Jaemin lifted his chin up, placing it on top of your breasts as he pouted, waiting for you to give into his cuteness.

Wouldn't that be nice- but you weren't going to miss school to mess around with jaemin. No way. You weren't even his girlfriend yet and you were sure his little play thing, seulgi, wouldn't be too happy, shes been calling him since he brought you here.

"No." You grabbed him by his hair and peeled him off your body. Jaemin wasn't very amused by the action.

"Oh i get it." He mumbled, "You want to see jeno, right?"

The question caught you off guard. But jaemin being jealous wasn't unknown to you anymore. He was possessive, that much you knew, and he always found a way to guilt trip you about it.

"I mean, we have been talking a lot more so a lil bit." You smiled, earning an eye roll from jaemin as he got up with nothing else to say and stalked his closet for something to wear. You glanced at your clothes which were actually his. And since you never went back to your apartment to get another outfit, you had to wear what you wore at the party.

Eyes stared into your bare back after you threw off the shirt that covered your body. They lingered, but didn't settle on staying until you slipped the bralette on.

Jaemin was going to comment about it, yet kept his mouth shut because there was no use saying he could give you a t-shirt instead, youd just complain about how it didn't match.

But the skirt was a different story. It was a party skirt, something way too short for school. No wonder jeno liked it. And to be honest, jaemin didn't hate it himself, he'd just rather not have people like jeno staring at you and your thighs. You were his. At least in his head you were.

"Fuck!" You screamed, "My bags at home." Softening your voice, jaemin just about wanted to smack you for scaring the shit out of him. He actually thanked the heavens your bag wasn't here, it gave you a reason to change.

"Let's go to your place quickly before school starts." Jaemin grabbed his things and you nodded, following behind him almost speed walking because of how long his strides were. "And change when we get there too."

You looked down at your fit and hummed, stepping into the car ready for jaemin to go.

"I don't think I can handle trig anymore." You bit your lip at the paper in hand. Jaemin looked down over your shoulder and almost scoffed. It was the homework due today, of course it was also one of the hardest pages the professor had given the class too, making it ten times harder for you to finish.

"If you had come over these past few nights, you wouldn't be so stressed." Jaemin shrugged.

It was like you knew he would say that with the way you rolled your eyes and crumpled the paper up, "Im actually thinking of dropping that class." You stated.

"Dont." He rested a hand on your shoulder, "Come over later and I'll help you." It wasn't even a question, in fact it was him telling you to do something. Its clear jaemins had enough of you ignoring him and hes also fed up with your complaining. Even wondered why you held out this long.

"But-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer anymore." Jaemin stated sternly as he sighed, stopping in front of your classroom and put his hands in his pocket. "Stop trying to ignore me," he leaned forward, just inches away from your face, "its not working."

"Just because you think its not working doesn't mean its not working...." You tilted your head to the side questioning your own words, "Anyway, you're jealous." Crossing your arms and leaning against the wall, your ego fed off of jaemins glaring eyes.

"Bullshit," jaemin tsked, "why would I be jealous?"

You smirked despite knowing you were playing a dangerous game with him. And jaemins good at playing games, he's done it to you for years.

You took a step forward, ultimately getting closer to his still leaned over figure and said, "You kept staring at jeno and I at the cafe and you had an attitude the entire time. Its obvious you know." Slithering a hand up his cheek, you pinched his smooth skin, "Nanas jealous."

It was an understatement to say jaemin didn't feel shivers go up his spine from your low voice. For once jaemin didn't have anything to come up with. Nothing crossed his mind to tell you that what you saw of him wasn't him being jealous, but that would be the dumbest of lies.

"Quiet for once? That's a first." You snickered at the small shade of red on his cheeks. It was either anger or him actually getting flustered. Either way you still claimed victory for keeping him surprisingly quiet.

Jaemin pulled your hand away from his face and opened his mouth, "Admit that you're purposely doing it then. There's no way you and jeno are magically good friends now. You hate him just as much as you hated me."

"Im not purposely making you jealous," you lied, "And I never hated jeno, just strongly disliked him for being friends with you."

The older almost laughed in your face from how stupid your lie was. "If you want my attention, say it." He smirked, proceeding to push you against the wall behind you without a second thought making you uncross your arms, "Its not hard y/n."

His hands trailed down to your waist, intensly watching your face as you looked around him, afraid that what he'd do will go too far and some students will see a not so innocent sight.

"Youre full of yourself." You inhaled sharply as he leaned forward ever so closely, just barely brushing his lips over yours.

"And you'll be full of nana soon." Jaemin almost closed the space between you with his lips, but someone stopped him.

"Jaemin!!!" Seulgi came running up to jaemin in her cute high heeled shoes. Her hair bouncing perfectly against her back as she pulled him away from you and into a hug, not before she planted a kiss to his lips as if you weren't standing right there, "I haven't seen you in so long, babe. You didn't call." She pouted with more puppy eyes than normal.

You missed the way jaemin growled at her, almost throwing seulgi off him since you were so focused on them kissing. Never did you think you'd witness it either. Something about it made your stomach churn and you couldnt bare stand there for long before walking away, taking zero notice of the way jaemin called out for you.

"Let's get some coffee before the bell rings." Seulgi pulled jaemin, but his eyes still lingered on the door you entered.

You couldnt stop your mind from racing in class. It was like your mind was playing games on you, telling you that jaemin wasn't in the slightest interested in you and thats why he never answered you, because he was too embarrassed to be seen with someone like you.

But that was only you overthinking.

Obviously jaemin cared for you, he wouldnt have let you stay over his house, tutored you, or be possessive when it came to you. So why did he kiss her back? In front of you too? Was he actually dating her for real?

These questions ran through your head, giving you a mini headache from thinking too hard about it.

It was like you were in high school all over again where everything was dramatic for no reason, well in some aspects you made it this way, but your point still stands.

"Y/n," someone tapped the table repeatedly, bringing you back to reality, "Class is over." jeno looked at you with suspicion but brushed it off thinking you were probably tired.

You glanced around the empty room before looking back at jeno, "Oh...yeah."

"Well uh," he scratched the back of his head, "You should probably get to your next class."

That's the last thing you wanted to do. Jaemin would be there and so was one of seulgis minions that always kept an eye out for anything he did. As annoying as it was, you weren't surprised anymore.

"Im gonna skip."

Jeno grimaced as you stood up and grabbed your things, walking towards the rooms exit as he followed close behind, "You? Skip? What the fuck??"

You stopped in your tracks, jeno almost bumbing into you in the process, "Do I need to spell it out for you or something? S-k-"

"No shut up. Its just shocking that your skipping." Jeno half grinned at the way you stared at him stoically.

"What are you getting at?"

The man before you chuckled, "Im saying youre a goody two shoes and you've never done a bad thing in your life."

You can't say he was wrong, but you also have to admit that you have stepped out of your shell recently and maybe for the better.

"Everyone changes some time in their lives." You pointed out, strolling out of the class to nowhere specific. "Better run to class jeno, dont want the teacher calling you put again."

"Yeah yeah." He eye smiled, giving you a quick pat on the back before saying bye and walking to his class.

You couldnt help but smile at him as he moved further and further away. You had to admit, jeno wasn't as bad as you thought. Not anymore anyway. But as jeno soon disappeared around a corner, you sighed and sauntered to the library where you were going to do your work until class ended.

Students were scattered everywhere in the library, some typing away at their laptops or school computers while others had papers and books sprawled out in front of them. Unfortunately for you, you were going to be the ones with almost any school supply in front of them. And with a sigh and slouched shoulders, you sat at an empty desk near the front of the library, taking your homework out as well as some books.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem for you to focus, but it was stressful with so many things laid out for you. Face palming and groaning quietly at your trig paper, you attempted the first problem which honestly didn't seem too bad, but you weren't always so sure of yourself when doing these kinds of things. Mostly because you second guessed yourself making you pick the wrong answer when you were originally right.

"This is so fucking stupid." You threw your head into your hands, giving up on trying since it was useless anyway. You needed jaemin. He was the only reason you started getting some good grades on your work.

"Whats stupid?"

Speak of the devil.

"The trig home- wait why aren't you in class?" You gazed at him before averting your eyes, not trying to let them linger too long.

Jaemin pulled a chair out and sat closely beside you, raising a brow as you inched away from him. "I could ask you the same thing." He tipped the chair back a little, keeping his eyes locked on the side of your stoic face.

"Im doing something if you can't tell." You snapped, instantly regretting the way your voice raised once you noticed jaemin clenching his jaw out the corner of your eye. But you couldnt help it, you were still frustrated, embarrassed, and jealous from earlier.

"Whats wrong?" Jaemin calmed himself, not wanting to blow up at you.

"Nothing." You ignored his eyes that watched you do out the problem. Probably silently telling you that it was all wrong but you weren't trying to pay attention to him.

"Youre doing it again."

"Doing what? I'm just trying to do my work." After writing your answer down, you checked over tbe work before you smiled to yourself. This had to be the right answer.

"Stop playing dumb." he grabbed your chin, "You know what you're doing."

Wiggling out of his grasp was no use, jaemin managed to move his hand to your jaw to keep you still.

You winced at the sudden squeeze, "I dont know what you're talking about."

Jaemin had enough of this bullshit, now grabbing your neck instead. Your eyes wondered the room hoping no one was paying attention, "Im not playing games with you. Why are you ignoring me again?"

"That's a good question." You looked away and though jaemims grip was starting to hurt more each second, you still found a way to show your disinterest.

Jaemin sighed, letting his hand drop and you inhaled deeply without a second thought. "Whats wrong then?"

"I told you its nothing."

"Bullshit." Jaemin took the pencil out of your hand just as you were about to write, your hand flying up to try and take it back but he pulled away.

"You really wanna know then?" You asked sharply to which jaemin nodded, "You kissed seulgi. Happy now?"

Jaemins mouth fell at your confession. Yes he figured that upset you a bit, but he never thought it was enough for you to ignore him.

"I never even went that far with jeno."

"Never went that far, huh?" He snapped back, shaking his head in disbelief as his face once again was steaming with anger. "Need i remind you how you made out with him at the party. Or were you that wasted and cant remember?"

The new found anger overlapped the previous one with more than just anger, but annoyance. There was no way jaemin was telling the truth, you would never kiss jeno.

"No i didnt."

"Dont tell me you didn't, I fucking saw it." His hand found its way on the table creating a loud bam that startled not only you, but a few kids that even lifted their heads to see what caused the noise. "You were the first one to go that far, so blame yourself before you blame me."

Taking a deep breath, you had to calm down before you said something you'd regret. Knowing jaemin too, you already had something waiting for you at his house.

"I believe you." Jaemin was ready to open his mouth but you were quick and responded, "because i remember." The problem with this answer was because it was untruthful. You already dug yourself a whole from the beginning yet you knew what you were getting yourself into. There was something about playing with jaemins anger that made you go wild.

Determined with your lie, you kept the straightest face like it was proof you recalled that night. Jaemin too was focused only on your face, his hand balling into a fist ever so slowly.

"I remember....he was a really good kisser," you whispered, "And you looked so mad." Snickering away at your words, you placed a hand on jaemins lap and watched his expression go from anger to almost frothing at the mouth.

Bingo. He was too far gone to see through you at this point and this is where you smirked to yourself.

"You're unbelievable." He scoffed, rolling his eyes thinking about how fed up he was, "Lets go."

Despite being told what to do, you sat looking between jaemin and your sprawled out homework. "I have things to do."

Jaemin literally shoved all your papers into your bag, not caring how they crumpled in the small space as you complained and swatted at his arm. Of course though, jaemin payed no mind to it, grabbing your hand and bag before dragging you out of the library.

You fought and struggled to get out of his grip. From the start you knew what you were getting into, that's why you did what you did. Now being dragged to his house it dawned on you that it was time to suffer whatever he had in mind.

"When we get to my house," jaemin locked his eyes with yours as he led you to his car, "We'll study trig, and depending on my mood and your attitude after, I might go easy with the punishment later."

"Im not going over to study and then be punished afterwards." Your voice faltered as you saw a familiar someone walking towards you and jaemin.

Jenos eyes lit up sadistically, smiling at you, telling you to smile back for one reason: to set jaemin off.

You did without hesitation, jaemins hold getting tighter and tighter as he glared at his best friend who walked by, holding the proudest grin on his face.

Once at the car, jaemin shoved you inside the passenger seat, slamming the door before he situated himself in the drivers side. Your eyes watched in annoyance yet you were intrigued. Maybe because you haven't had any action with jaemin since about a week ago.

Resting your head against the headrest, you stared outside the window. There wasn't any way you could hold another conversation with the man, it would only drive your hormones insane.

Its been thirty minutes and to say you were paying attention would be the stupidest thing ever. every word that jaemin said went in one ear and out the other. Some part of you was purposely choosing to ignore him, but your attention span was almost non existent in the first place. So listening to jaemin talk about trigonometry was only boring you.

You tapped out, playing with your pencil or doodling on the paper. Each time you weren't paying attention, jaemin would ask you to write down the answer or a land a slap right on your thigh. It stung and made up jump with shock in your eyes as jaemin told you the same thing each time: "pay attention." But did you? God no. It was impossible. With the thought of a punishment too, it made your mind run like it was in a marathon.

"Little girl," jaemins voice once again brought you back to reality, "what did nana just say?" You shrugged your shoulders slightly, keeping your head down like you were shy yet you were far from it, holding a small grin on your innocent face.

"I dont know, nor do I care." You finally looked up. Jaemin was none too happy, letting his chest fall.

Shaking his head, he said once more to listen and pay attention.

Jaemin took your pencil so he could write out the problem for you, deciding to be nice even though you weren't returning it. You watched the way his pretty hands flexed with every number or letter he wrote. The subtle veins showing every so often too made you almost drool at the sight. Oh what you would do to have him wrap his hands around your neck again.

"Solve it." Jaemin threw the pencil down in front of you, resting his head in his hand to watch you. But you didn't move, not even a simple budge.

"No."

"Y/n its not that fucking hard, just solve it."

You glanced at the paper then the pencil that laid on the table before grabbing it and snapping it in half.

"Im not doing it." You faked a smile, ready for jaemin to snap just like the pencil.

"You need to pass this class, y/n. Stop messing around and pay attention."

You shot up from your seat, "I. Dont. Care. I'm going home."

It wasn't long before he suddenly stood up too, grabbing you by the hair and threw you on his bed, "Okay you wanna act up?" He hovered over you, pinning your arms down on the soft bed as he straddled your lower half. "I dont get why you continue to act like a brat when you know you're going to be punished. Unless you want it?" Jaemins face was merely inches in front of yours not until you blew into his face and smirked when he flinched and pulled away.

"Ever wonder why I act this way? Your easy to push, I can get in your head and make you get mad so I get exactly what I want." You snickered, "Not to mention its to make you suffer for not answering my question." A hand was placed on his covered chest, rubbing small circles on the fabric of the shirt.

Suddenly, jaemin laughed. Though, it wasn't a joyful one. It was more sadistic and filled with amusement, "How is it making me suffer if you're the one about to be punished?"

"Cuz i still get what I want in the end."

"My dick or my attention?"

"Both."

Jaemnn chuckled dryly, quickly sitting back and tearing your clothes off without a second thought.

You were ready to protest about your clothes until jaemin took matters in his own hands and shoved his fingers nearly down your throat to shut you up.

"Im tired of your voice." He spat, "All you talk is shit."

Whimpering around his fingers, you tried anything in your power to try and pry them out. He never moved back, sticking his fingers deeper and deeper until he heard you gag and whine the best you could. Your throat felt so tight and it was getting harder to breathe. Jaemin didn't care, deciding to just fuck your mouth with his fingers as he started pulling your pants and panties down, lifting his hips up so he can take them off all the way.

"It would be so much nicer if you weren't a brat you know." Jaemin began, easily shoving two fingers inside your dripping cunt, "Nana could've stuffed you full of his cock, made love to you, and made you happy. Instead," his fingers that were buried in your heat, curled and pushed in a certain way that made your eyes roll, "You wanted to be a little bitch."

You drew out a long hum, the pleasure felt so good after pushing jaemin for so long. All his anger was going to this one punishment and you should've felt scared, but you weren't. You were excited and loved every bit of it.

The way he fingered you was almost too surreal. It made your body crumple against his will and he wasn't even fucking you yet.

It was getting harder to breathe being filled by his two fingers. Just barely becoming too overwhelming so you tapped his hand to signal you needed to breathe. Jaemin took his hand out, watching your face to make sure you were okay as you gasped for air.

"Are y-you try-trying to kill me or s-something?" You moaned at one particular hard thrust that made your breath hitch.

"Oh shut up, I know you liked it. Probably imagined my cock down your throat." He bit his lip, taking in the thought of what you would look like on your knees for him before shaking it off.

"I-i was n-not."

Jaemin smirked devishly, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, but you kept clenching around him. Your hand grabbed his wrists in a death grip, moans fell from your open mouth and jaemin ate that all up. Loving how your body shook, knowing you were so close.

Right when you felt your orgasm coming, jaemin ripped his fingers out of you, essentially letting your juices flow out. But you didn't cum, no you were just that wet.

Your hips lifted up like you would get friction but there was nothing to get friction from, you looked dumb and pathetic.

"Not fair..." you mumbled, frowning at the annoying smirk on jaemins face.

"Punishments aren't supposed to be fair," he said a matter of factly, pushing your hips back down on your bed as he grazed his fingers over your wetness before pushing back in again.

This time setting a ruthless pace, taking in your fucked out expression.

"Jaemin- please im s-so close." Fidgeting and clawing at his wrists, the orgasm built back up. It got closer, closer, closer. Right there, it was right there, but jaemin took it away from you again.

"God, I love this way more than I should. Breaking a brat is so much fun." His fingers dripped with your arousal. He stared at the strand connecting his fingers. It was so much and so lewd, it should've been embarrassing to you yet it made him want more from you. "How many times should nana edge his pretty girl? Maybe-"

"Fuck you." You cried, ready to take this into your own hands and finish yourself off.

Jaemins hand made a perfect necklace on your neck, tightening his grip on the sides so you felt all his anger, "Thats the last thing I would say if I were you."

"W-what are y-you gonna do? Spank me?" Thinking he actually would if you said that, you were slapped across the face, eyes not staring at jaemin anymore but the wall next to the bed.

"Dont test me anymore, your already in for it." He growled into your ear. Leaving his hand wrapped around your neck, he slipped back inside, this time fucking his fingers into you at an antagonizing slow pace.

You wanted to scream and push him away for being a tease, but you reminded yourself that this is what you wanted, this was what you'll get. You had no idea how long this pain will continue though. All you could think about was cumming. In fact, that was the only thing on your mind as he fingered your tight pussy. The pain of not being able to orgasm was so unbearable, it just about made your eyes tear up. Were you that desperate that you'd cry over it?

"I wanna...c-cum so bad..."

The man above you stared at you in disbelief. He basically just started and you were already a mess.

"You really want to cum that badly?" You nodded hastily, tears at the brink of falling, you couldnt hold it in anymore, "Then apologize for all the shit you put us through. Starting with you ignoring me, fake dating jeno, and purposely pissing me off for the hell of it." Jaemin said with his whole chest. Being able to say it out loud reminded him of everything. From the time you started this crap, to now.

"I-im sorry- I'm so f-fucking sorry, jaemin." You forced yourself to look into his eyes, his angry red eyes that tore into your soul to find any lie, yet you had none. You meant what you said with full honesty, "Please nana, l-let me cum."

Jaemin simply gave you a nod and thats when you let everything out. You came all over his fingers but jaemin didn't stop nor slow down. He kept the same rough pace as before and you could only scream and cry from the sensitivity.

Then jaemin started rubbing and pinching your sensitive clit before giving your cunt a slap that made you jolt and cry out.

"Ahh- w-wait jae-mmm....s-so sensitive."

Jaemin rolled his eyes, "thought you wanted to cum? I'm giving you what you want, babe."

Your legs closed around his fingers though it didn't stop him from curling and fucking them inside. He could just easily push them open yet he found your sensitivity amusing which led you to cum again without warning.

"What a pathetic little fucking brat you are." He gathered the white substance that leaked from your clentching hole and shoved it back in, "Making such a mess of yourself."

Your back arched, even more sensitive than before.

The hand on your neck moved down to your breast, squeezing at your nipples and playing with everything he could get his hand on. Your nipples were so sensitive that that alone could make you cry and moan just from a simple touch.

His fingers brushed against your sweet spot where you screamed his name. Being over sensitive made everything feel more pleasurable and painful. Every small touch on your pussy brought you to a shaking pleasure that you couldnt control. It was becoming too much and too overwhelming.

"Fuck, are you gonna cum again? It hasn't even been five minutes." He watched, eyes filled with amazement as you shook and once again, came on his sheets and fingers.

Your shaking didn't stop though, it was like the kind of shake you get when your cold, though you were far from it. The intensity of this orgasm was just too much where even jaemin had to pull his fingers out and let you breathe for a moment.

"You okay, baby?" He asked quietly, kissing your temple as you nodded your head, "Can you give nana one more then?" Not wanting to stop, you nodded without a thought causing jaemin to smile and lean back.

Jaemin finally got rid of his clothing, crawling back on the bed before giving you a kiss so you wouldn't notice how he slipped his cock inside.

Surprisingly jaemin took his time pushing in, savoring your sweet little moans that drove him crazy. He started and kept a slow pace that made the overwhelming feeling dissolve away. Now you were wrapping your legs around his waist and staring into the soft eyes of jaemins that were just red a second ago.

Every vein against your walls made you feel ecstasy. Jaemin was careful with each thrust and it felt like pure love. They were passionate and he didn't fail to show it.

"Taking nanas cock so well, just like the good girl you are." Jaemin smiled at your beautiful face that contorted into pleasure. Both of your moans filled the room. More cuss words were thrown from you like it was the only thing in your dictionary.

The lewd sounds of your bodys bounced off the walls as jaemin fucked you slow and steady, grabbing your hips gently as he kissed all over your face, neck, and breasts. He sucked on your skin here and there, creating small bruises that looked like a tattoo as you grabbed the back of his head, lifting him up by the hair to bring his face to yours so you could place a kiss to his red lips.

The kiss was sloppy and slow. Neither of you cared though, both focused on your orgasms that kept coming closer.

Jaemins thrusts stuttered and his cock twitched inside you. The hand in jaemins hair pulled and messed up his locks, sure to create a messy sight later on.

" 'm gon-gonna cum." You moaned, lifting your hips up to meet his along the way.

"Cum, princess."

The final orgasm left your body feeling like it was on a cloud while all you saw were stars making jaemin coo at your fucked out face.

Pulling out, jaemin finished on your stomach before letting his body fall next to yours, wrapping an arm around your hips and pulling you into him..

You both panted out of tiredness, neither one bothering to move as you were both spent.

"Did I hurt you, princess? Are you feeling okay?"

You smiled into his chest, "no you didn't hurt me and I feel fine."

"Good." Jaemin smiled, petting your hair before laying his head on top of yours, "Wanna go on a date?"

You swear your heart stopped as your face heated up, "Jaemin, you're doing everything backwards."

"So is that a yes or no?"

"Of course its a yes!"

It was a peaceful restaurant that jaemin brought you to, saying it was supposed to be a place a lot of couples went to which you thought was absolutely sweet of him.

"So...uh." jaemin looked anywhere but your face like he didn't just have sex with you for the second time.

You snickered and sipped the drink in your hand, "Why are you so awkward all of a sudden? Its just me."

"I know it's just- I feel like I can't say what I wanna say because I'm afraid." Jaemin sighed.

"Of what exactly?" You placed the drink down, watching as jaemin fumbled with the menu before he covered his mouth and mumbled something you coulsnt quite grasp, "What did you say?"

"...nothing."

"Jaemin."

His doe eyes stared into yours like it was some sort of contest, wanting you to look away first but you and he did, "Alright fine. I said I'm a bit nervous if I were to ask you out."

Tilting your head to the side, you puffed your cheeks out in confusion, "Why?"

"The last relationship I had, the girl cheated on me. Afterwards she said it was because i wasn't good enough." He frowned, returning his attention back to the menu where you presumed was his hiding place for the time being.

"Well she's a bitch and is missing out on an amazing person." You pushed the menu down, "Is that why you acted that way when you saw jeno and I at the cafe? Did you think I thought you weren't good enough?"

Jaemin nodded slowly, "Kind of. I didn't want to lose someone I loved again."

"Loved? Na jaemin-"

"Dont say it." He groaned.

"You've gotten soft! Does this mean what I think it means?" You quirked a suggestive brow at him causing him to put his head in his hand.

"Yes, ill be your boyfriend." He said in his hand before you took it away and grabbed his face to kiss him. "I- princess when did you become do confident?"

"When did you become so shy?"

"Fair point."

Everything felt right all of a sudden. No more of jaemin being your bully. No more coffee being poured on your head. No more stupid high school drama that wasn't even drama in the first place. It was all right for once. And you couldnt say you could complain. After weeks, you got what you struggled to have before; na jaemin.

[destiniesfic]

Ghezen’s Diamond

Written for the 2021 @grishaversebigbang reverse mini-bang challenge!

@kavinskysdick made an incredible, heartwarming, cozy piece of art for this short fic, which you can find here.

Summary: A couple of years after Rule of Wolves, Zoya Nazyalensky and Alina Starkov catch up over a game of cards. Rating: G Word Count: 1,240

Read on AO3 or read below:

Zoya threw down her cards. “You win. Again.” She shook her head and reached for the glass of wine at her elbow, grumbling, “Must be orphan’s luck.”

Alina raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think orphans are known to be particularly lucky.”

The two women sat in the little dining room in Zoya’s palace apartments, looking at each other from opposite sides of a small, round table. The gaslamps on the wall had been turned low, and the fat candles on the table dripped wax, somehow already half the height they had been when they were lit. A pitcher stood nearby, but they were so intent on the cards that they hadn’t poured from it in a while. Outside the window, beyond the silhouetted treetops, Os Alta sparkled in the distance.

The card game they played was called Ghezen’s Diamond, which Nikolai had picked up from a mutual acquaintance in Ketterdam. Zoya didn’t know where the name came from, although she assumed the diamond was for how the four cards turned face-down at the start of the game were arranged between the two players. They had been turned upright now, and the joker grinning near Alina had clinched her victory. For the third time in a row.

Zoya glared. “Orphan’s cunning, then.”

“Are you accusing me of cheating?”

“Did I say that?” She sipped her wine. “It does take a certain amount of cunning to survive as an orphan. If you read anything else into what I said, it’s your own fault.”

“Hard to cheat when you’ve only just learned the game.” Alina’s lips pressed together like she was trying to stifle a smile. “You haven’t changed a bit. You’ve never been a graceful loser.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m always graceful.”

Zoya’s eyes caught a flicker of movement; a small orange cat stretching on the mantel above the fireplace before settling back down into a contented nap. She had no idea why Alina had brought the animal, much less how Oncat had liked the long journey to Os Alta, but Alina claimed she never went anywhere without the cat. Scrawny and patchy as she still was, Oncat was a familiar sight, and part of Zoya was glad to see she fared as well as the rest of them.

Alina laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, you know. I’m surprised that you were first to snatch me up, but I guess I shouldn’t be.”

Zoya shrugged, but she was pleased. Years ago, she thought Alina common, but now she believed that was a strength, not a weakness. Unlike so many people she was faced with day to day, Alina never put on airs. Zoya had grown to appreciate that.

But instead of speaking any of this aloud, she said, “Genya will want her turn with you. And you can bet she’ll want to do something about that hair.”

Alina reached up to tug at a lock, snowy white at the ends and dark at the roots. “You don’t like it? I like it. I think it’s unique.”

“‘Unique’ is only ever a polite way to disguise something unflattering,” Zoya sniffed. She couldn’t help but keep sneaking glances at Alina’s hair whenever she could. It had gone white years ago, after a remarkable and twisted display of power, but her natural brown was slowly creeping back in. Whereas many women greyed as they aged, it seemed almost as if time had begun to reverse for Alina, as if in apology for her other losses. She looked a little older in the face, true, but that hair…

Zoya looked at her own wrists, banded by dragonscale bracelets, and at her hands, thinking of the power they held. There was so much they still failed to understand about what they were.

“What is it?” Alina asked, taking her hand. That was another thing about Alina — she only ever approached people as people. No grandstanding, no groveling. A queen or a vagrant, they were all handled the same way. Zoya hadn’t understood it at the time, had resented her for all of the praise and attention she got, but maybe Alina was the best Saint any of them could have wished for.

“Is your hair color the only thing coming back?”

“Yes,” Alina said. She sounded a little mournful, then forced a laugh, drawing her hand back. “I wouldn’t know what to do with my power if I had it again.”

Zoya felt a pang of sympathy. If their positions were reversed, she might have withered away years ago. Well, no, that wasn’t right. Zoya had survived too much for that. Still, she loved her power, and it was a struggle every day to keep from loving it too much. “That’s not true. You handled it more responsibly than anyone else would have, at your age.”

“You’re slipping,” Alina remarked, eyeing Zoya over her own wine glass. “I think that was a compliment.”

“Well, it’s not saying much. Seventeen is a ridiculous age to have a country on your shoulders.”

“We definitely agree on that.” She leaned forward and playfully clinked her glass against Zoya’s. “Although I think I left the country in good hands, all things considered.”

“We have managed to keep things running, haven’t we?”

Alina grinned. “I’m sure it’s easier with four hands than it was with two,” she said, glancing conspicuously at the wedding band on Zoya’s right hand.

“It was never just two hands,” Zoya replied, but she, too, glanced at the ring, unable to keep the hint of a smile from touching her lips. “Nikolai’s or mine. We had the Triumvirate, Tamar, Tolya.” She paused. “But yes, on the whole, I would agree that this is better.”

“Not ready to throttle him yet?”

“Nearly every day.” She tossed her head. “But that’s marriage, isn’t it?”

Alina just kept smiling. Aside from the hair — Genya would have words with her — she looked well. True, the dark circles under her eyes were back now that she was no longer Grisha; she probably spent half the night rocking crying children to sleep or whatever women who ran orphanages did. But the rosy flush to her cheeks spoke of health, and her eyes were bright and alert. Even her two-toned hair seemed lustrous. The wool robe she wore was plainer than Zoya’s silk brocade, which seemed to glitter by comparison, but it was well-made and probably more comfortable. Her own wedding ring shone in the low light. Perhaps a simple life suited her.

Zoya might never understand that, but on second thought, maybe she could. A small fraction of it, anyway. When she was alone with Nikolai, and a woman, not a queen. When she was alone with Alina, and she was simply someone’s friend.

That thought strayed far too close to true vulnerability. “Let’s play again,” she said, gathering up the cards and beginning to shuffle them. “This time, I will beat you.”

“A woman can dream,” Alina quipped.

But even as she dealt the cards, Zoya knew that this was the dream: an evening with an old friend, the chance to be just Zoya Nazyalensky and Alina Starkov, not Saints or martyrs or rulers or whatever they were outside of this room. Like most dreams, it felt slightly absurd and didn’t fit quite right. Still, she would miss it a little when the morning came and it dissolved into mist, transient and ephemeral, the stuff that fond memories are made of.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Wano (Part One)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

shirahoshi seeing the sun for the first time is really a relatively minor and understated thing, among all the chaos and revelations of reverie, but it strikes me as one of the most meaningful little moments in the arc. 

i LOVE the luffy fanclub. i love that a meeting of the world leaders winds up being a who’s-who with assorted friends of one of the world’s most notorious criminals, and it brings me SO much joy to see them meeting each other and being able to connect. i feel the same way about coby and rebecca meeting.

in general, and i think i said this at marineford too, i love that the one piece world is developed and interconnected and alive enough to allow for these sorts of interactions. 

fucked up that this was almost a hundred chapters ago and we still have no clue what the fuck was up with this, isn’t it? 

i do find the introduction of im fascinating. up until this point we’ve had two presumed final villains- blackbeard and akainu- who were first established pretty far back at jaya and enies lobby (in robin’s flashback) respectively. meanwhile, im isn’t even seen until chapter nine hundred and something. it feels very late-game, but at the same time, their existence doesn’t contradict anything previously established, and in fact jives pretty well with a lot of information more recently revealed in dressrosa. 

in any case, when in doubt i do trust oda knows what he’s doing when handling his story, and i’m very excited to see what he does with this.

wano is SO PRETTY. i mentioned this before in fishman island, but i think wano is definitely the prettiest setting in the series to date. i think it’s obvious oda was both very excited to draw it and put a lot of work and research into his depiction of it, and wow does it pay off. wano is so bursting with life and detail, and frequently looks like an ukiyo-e painting come to life, and just- wow wow wow.

i love zoro and luffy’s reunion so much... i love how happy they are to see each other. it’s only been, what, a couple weeks in-universe? but luffy is pulling the full tackle-hug like he did for sabo at dressrosa. i love them.

i really like the outfits in wano, too!! zoro’s ronin look in particular i think suits him very well, and i also love luffy’s patchy yukata and robin’s geisha getup and they’re just very cool. this also applies to the non-strawhat wano characters, for the record, and kind of ties back to what i was just saying about wano being so full of detail. it has a very specific look, and everything from the outfits to the way things like the fire and the waves are drawn folds very neatly into that aesthetic. 

as i’m writing this i just finished on the paramount war posts, so with that fresh on my mind, i have to say i really like the way ace (or rather, his memory) is incorporated into wano. he’s not really a major presence- that is, the fact that he was there before luffy has no real bearing on the plot. but there are people who knew and cared about him and remember him fondly, tama and yamato, and it just really helps add to this feeling that ace was a person and his life and death had real and lasting affects. 

and it adds, too, to the fact that even if it took ace way too long to realize it, he was so thoroughly loved everywhere he went. 

i have a lot of thoughts on the intersection of food and heroism in one piece (i keep trying to compile a coherent meta post on the subject and mostly failing). but i’ll settle for saying that in wano luffy is a hero by his own definition, as someone who shares food with others, and i doubt he realizes that, but i think it’s really interesting. 

i know luffy’s fight with kaidou is kind of controversial in fandom but i love it, personally. it feels like a logical outcome for luffy to get his ass kicked the first time he tries to go up against a yonkou singlehandedly! he got wrecked when he tried to throw down with a shichibukai the first time, too, and this is just the next logical step from that. 

luffy’s always been an underdog starting from nowhere and working his way up and up and up, and i love that for him. of course he’s going to get messed up the first time he tries punching an entire order of magnitude above his weight class. and then he’s going to get up and try again, and again, and again until he wins. 

the act structure of wano is really neat, i think. it helps such a long and complicated arc feel a lot more structured and less interminable than it might otherwise, and it also gives specific breaks where we can cut away to the story happening on the outside world. 

honestly i really like the whole udon prison segment. it’s fun! i like it for similar reasons i like the colosseum mini-arc in dressrosa, honestly, which is that there’s no real stress because we know luffy is the scariest person there by a country mile so we can just watch him go ham, and that’s fun. it consistently cracks me up that absolutely nobody is worried luffy’s in jail. they’re all just like “yeah, he’ll be fine.” and they’re right! he’s having the time of his life!

wano’s cast is fascinating, because almost nobody is who they first appear to be. almost everyone is wearing masks, whether literal or not- fitting, for an arc structured after a kabuki play. everyone is playing roles, from hiyori to denjirou to kanjurou to yasuie, and everyone lies. 

this entire sequence at orochi’s party is one of my favorites in the whole arc- in fact, it was my favorite, until we reached a certain part i’ll get to in the next post. everything from komurasaki standing up for toko and slapping orochi to denjirou “killing” her to robin getting caught by the oniwabanshu and dissolving into petals to nami calling down a massive lightning bolt to cover their escape- it’s really good. 

i’ve written extensively before about the smile fruits and the themes of smile and laughter in one piece and how important the freedom to feel and express emotion is. suffice it to say that for all the atrocities orochi commits against the people of wano, it’s feeding the smile fruits to the people of ebisu town that is his greatest crime, and the revelation of just what happened to those poor people ratchets up the tragedy of wano tenfold.

i do think it’s interesting to think about how if denjirou had been just a little less committed to his role, zoro would’ve killed orochi right here. it really drives home that orochi is nothing- he’s weak, he’s cowardly, he’s just lucky and clever and cruel enough to be able to get much more powerful people to do his work for him. 

it’s infuriating that someone like him has been able to hold such power over the lives of the people of wano and ruin them so thoroughly, and that’s exactly the point. 

wano is the arc where oda says you Will care about the supernovas and i’m like yeah

hey, another of my all-time favorite luffy panels!! i honestly just think this one sums him up as a character in a line more than almost any other- “i’m always free.” 

just look at the detail on kidd’s metal hand holy shit holy shit. on occasion certain panels jump out at me that remind me that oda really is just, a genius at drawing on a technical level, even setting aside his writing and storytelling chops, and this is one of them. 

oda is really, really good at creating the sense of a darkest hour- a time when all hope seems lost. the other best example in the series is in water seven, when the crew seems to be falling to pieces, merry is marked for death, robin’s gone, and the aqua laguna is coming. here, too- nobody comes to meet the akazaya nine, and the one chance they’ve waited twenty years and staked their lives on seems in danger of slipping through their fingers-

but the point of making it so all seems lost is so that when hope does appear, it shines all the brighter, and feels all the more triumphant. it’s always darkest before the dawn, and we all know how wano has been waiting for the dawn. 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Blood Buzz

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~1880

Warnings: Smut. Knife play and descriptions of cuts/bleeding. Sam’s high on demon blood and not necessarily in the most healthy headspace, but everything is consensual and steamy af. It’s hot, but I also feel a little guilty for thinking it’s hot, ya know?

A/N: Set between seasons 3 and 4. I made this graphic yesterday and got sorta stuck on the image of Sam + knives, and I was thinking about writing fluff, but then I listened to Bloodbuzz Ohio by the National and... *jazz hands* 

“Long time no see, Sam,” she says softly. 

She smiles as she lets him in. It’s sweet. She’s sweet. It’s been a while; he forgot how sweet she can be. 

Sam’s having second thoughts. She deserves better than him. 

They’ve always been so rough with each other that it still surprises him how tender she can be, how beatifically she smiles when he runs his fingers over the bruises, afterward. This is new, though, and he thinks it might push the limits of what she likes. He shouldn’t ask her for this. 

It’s not too late to back out. He could ask Ruby. He knows she’d like it. 

She’d use it against him, though, with her smirk and her sneer. She’d tell him how fucked-up he is, she’d tell him it’s what he deserves, and that’s too close to the truth right now. He’s not sure he wants to hear it. 

He goes to the bathroom, pulls out the flask, takes a long pull. Ruby’ll be back tomorrow; he has plenty to last him until then. It burns a little when he licks his lips. He tucks the flask away and looks at himself in the mirror, baring his teeth to make sure the blood isn’t visible. 

Can she see it on him? Does she know that he’s not the same Sam she met two years ago?  

His skin is starting to itch. The blood is fizzing as it settles into his veins, like his entire body is starting to wake up, an undercurrent of lust like a hum mixed with a quiet ferocity that has him vibrating with the need to sink his teeth into something. Everything is intensified; the cool air on his skin feels like a caress. 

She’s waiting for him on the bed, stretched out unselfconsciously in just a tank top and underwear, and she checks him out with a grin as he pulls his shirt off. 

“Lookin’ good,” she comments.

He’s too high for banter. 

“I was hoping you could do something for me,” he says quietly, hands in his pockets, fingering the flask in one and the folded jackknife in the other. 

She just looks curious. “Yeah?” 

He pulls the knife out, unfolding it, eyes catching on the way the wicked edge of it gleams in the low light. He holds it out to her, handle first — trying to breathe steadily — trying not to let her see how much he wants this. 

“Me or you?” she asks, barely more than a whisper. She’s staring at him and that’s definitely not fear in her eyes. It’s not fear and it’s not revulsion, even though Sam deserves both. 

“Me.” 

She nods jerkily and takes the blade. “Sit in the chair for me? I don’t want blood on my sheets.” 

He strips down and sits. It’s the chair of her little dressing table, so Sam’s facing the mirror, and his reflection is glassy-eyed and flushed. 

He looks almost as fucked up as he feels. 

Almost.

She tests the edge of the knife on her fingernail and something about the flash of metal in delicate fingers has his heart pounding. She stands in front of him, between him and the mirror, and if she notices that he’s already half-hard, she doesn’t say anything about it. 

He has to look up to meet her eyes, like this, and it’s unsettling. 

“Where?” she asks. He shrugs and she presses, “Is there anywhere you don’t want me to cut?” 

“Aside from the obvious? Nah. I don’t care.” 

She bites her lip at that, something strange flickering over her face, but she doesn’t challenge it. 

“Same safe word?” 

“Yeah.” 

She holds the flat of the knife to his jaw. Sam can feel the cool metal, and he shivers, the thrill of it running down his spine. The way she licks her lips makes him think he’s not the only one enjoying this. 

He can still taste copper. 

She drags the very tip of the blade down the side of his neck — not enough to break skin, just a graze — and in, to the hollow of his throat. Sam closes his eyes and swallows hard and the movement, the ripple of muscle, presses his skin against the blade. His hands curl into fists where they’re resting on his thighs. 

The feather-light whisper of it traces down the center of his chest. Just a few inches to the left, Sam thinks, and if she slid the knife in just right, got it neatly between the ribs, she could stab him in the heart. 

Instead she grabs his left wrist and raises it. Sam feels the tickle of the knife point on his palm and his wrist, and then she presses it to the inside of his forearm. 

The bright clean bite of it barely registers as pain. His cock throbs and his heart races, and when he opens his eyes and looks down at the blood, his gut twists and his skin sings, like his body is reminding him that he’s had enough; this isn’t for drinking. 

She slices again, just below the first, shallow and steady. Sam’s breath catches. He can’t figure out whether it’s pain or pleasure he’s feeling. The two sensations have gotten all tangled together. He doesn’t particularly care. Either way, he’s hard as hell. 

She takes his other wrist and does the same thing, slowly, drawing it out. 

She’s getting off on this too, Sam realizes; her cheeks are stained red and her pupils are huge. 

The peaks of her nipples, hard and obvious, are visible through the thin white cotton of her tank top, right at Sam’s eye level. He leans forward and takes a nipple between his teeth gently. She moans, arching her back a little, and her grip on his wrist tightens. Sam laves his tongue over it and then sucks, feeling the pebbled skin get harder between his lips. 

He leans back, admiring the wet patch where his mouth was and the way the fabric clings to her. She cuts him again while he’s still staring; it takes him by surprise and he lets out a harsh, rough groan. 

“More?” she asks, breathing heavily. Sam nods.

She drops his wrist and drags the knife along his inner thigh, instead, tracing the thin sensitive skin before slicing just above his knee, pulling the metal across the skin and leaving a trail of fiery pain in its wake. Sam sucks in a deep breath, chest heaving. She repeats it on the opposite side, slow and almost lazy, taking her time, like she’s savoring the sight of the blood welling up and pearling along the cut.

“Enough.” 

She turns to put the knife on the dresser, and he grabs her by the waist, holding her there with her back to him as he tugs her panties down. She gets her shirt off, and Sam pulls her down onto his lap, holding her flush to his chest with one arm. 

He can see their reflections in the mirror, and he watches over her shoulder as he manhandles her into place and gets her knees hooked over his, so that when he spreads his legs, she has no choice but to spread hers. He dips a hand down to her cunt, using two fingers to bare her completely. It’s obvious, in the mirror, how wet she is, skin glistening slick with arousal. She blushes patchy red all the way down her chest. 

Her body is soft and hot against his as she squirms, wriggling into place until the head of Sam’s cock is pressed right up against all that wet slick heat, and she sinks down fast and desperate, head falling back on his shoulder. 

The first velvety squeeze of her is almost too much for Sam. The salt of her sweat is stinging the cuts on his arms and thighs, and he moans low in his chest. 

She can’t move much like this, but she trembles all over when he starts tracing circles over her clit. When Sam bucks his hips up, a quick little thrust, he can see everything in the mirror: the way her breasts jiggle, the way her mouth goes slack in a gorgeous red O, even the thick, flushed-dark base of his cock, shining wet where it’s splitting her open. 

She’s shaking almost violently in his arms. He knows what she likes, knows exactly how to touch her to get her off hard and fast, and she’s already so close. Sam can feel her entire body tense up as he works her swollen clit. Her back arches and she leans back, twisting her hips frantically, giving Sam a filthy, pornographic view of the way she’s stretched around him. 

“Forgot how good you look stuffed full of my cock,” he snarls, punctuating the words with a bite to the curve of her neck. She shudders and lets out a long jagged whimpering moan, grinding down, jerking forward against his fingers as she loses control. 

It’s too much to feel and see all at once. Sam’s eyes roll back and he squeezes them shut, too overwhelmed to watch as she comes, her cunt clamping down in little rippling waves of drenching silk. 

He grips the side of the chair with one hand, giving himself some leverage, and hooks his other arm around her ribs, forearm between her breasts, hand splayed out over her chest as he holds her where he wants her. He fucks up into her with sharp little thrusts. 

Sam opens his eyes and the sight punches the breath out of his lungs. It’s not just the sheen of sweat on her skin, or the soft jiggle of her curves, or the obscene glaze of her slickness all over his cock, even though that’s one hell of a view. When he moved, adjusting his grip, the open wounds on his forearms smeared blood up her belly and down her side. The dark streaks of it paint her skin and mingle with her sweat.

A fresh bead of blood from his arm trickles down her abdomen as he watches.  

It’s like something else takes over, some feral animal that’s been lurking in his ribcage. He growls, hips snapping up, everything obliterated but the wild primal need, and the demon-ness inside him is screaming as he lets go. 

He feels the pulse of his orgasm through his entire body, a head-to-toe white-hot throb, and then wave after wave of relief as he shudders through it. He bites down on her shoulder to muffle the choked-out sobs that wrack his body with the aftershocks. She hisses, pained, but squeezes around him in a rush of flooded heat. 

Sam’s shivering. 

He can’t look at himself in the mirror, for a moment; part of him is afraid of what he’ll see. Whatever took over his body might be staring back with big black eyes. The high is fading, but the demon blood is still buzzing under his skin. 

“We should shower,” she says hoarsely, wriggling off his lap. “Get those cuts clean.” 

“Sure. I’m right behind you,” he tells her. 

He watches her go, then looks cautiously at his reflection. It’s just the familiar hazel clearly visible around dilated pupils. 

No monster. No excuse. Just Sam.  

He swallows his rage and reaches for the flask. 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave me a message! Thanks for reading. 

[collisiondiscourse]

SKSKSKSKSKSK CODI CODI PLEASE I LOVE DADRAGON HISASHI PLS CAN I GET A COUPLE HCS

*SLAMS DESK* THANK HECK SOMEONE ASKED ME BECAUSE I *LOVE* TALKING ABOUT MY MENTAL IMAGE FOR HISASHI MIDORIYA

listen. ok. in my mind, hisashi is the COOLEST DAD EVER. THE COOL ONE EVERYONE *WISHES* THEY HAD

-he has red hair and bright green eyes and freckles EVERYWHERE just like deku. except i hc that his firebreathing thing is partially a dragon thing!! so he has little horns on top of his head and a few patchy areas with scales. he looks COOL ASF until u get to the back n see his tiny ass wings that dont do nuthin

inko makes fun of his stubby wings so much n hes always like "BAAAABE STOP U KNOW I WAS BORN LIKE THIS 😭" but its ok bc he still luvs her

HE. DRESSES. HORRIBLY. Like im talkin stupid unbuttoned polos with band shirts underneath and ratty ass jeans. he wears socks and sandals and sometimes even jorts. hes always wearing like 30 unmatched pieces of jewelry bc hes a dragon and he HOARDS

most of the jewelry is handmade bracelets izuku sent him as a kid and he NEVER TAKES THEM OFF even if theyre literally falling apart

AND LIKE. OK. DEKUS RED SHOES RIGHT?? HE ACTUALLY GOT THOSE FROM HIS DAD WHO BOUGHT HIM AND BAKUGOU MATCHING RED AND BLUE ONES AND A RED ADULT SIZED PAIR FOR HIMSELF TOO. bakugou stopped wearing them after he grew out of them but IZUKU AND HISASHI ARE STUBBORN MFS N WEAR THE SAME SHOES EVERYDAY.

dekusquad jokingly is always like "ahh finding the male midoriyas in a crowd is always easy! just look for them big ass red shoes ✌"

all that aside tho. if u look past the disastrous fashion sense. hisashi midoriya is HOT hot.

LIKE. ok. hes mostly lean w a bit of chub, from working as a successful barista in america, and hes also TALL AS HECK. hes like. maybe a few inches shorter than all might. bottomline is that hes REALLY ATTRACTIVE. ESPECIALLY WHEN INKO DRESSES HIM UP

and when deku introduces him to 1A and his teachers for the first time everyones looking at hisashi n blushing n they look at deku n theyre all like "....dude"

(and maybe because they notice the fact that deku actually looks pretty similar to his dad 1A starts to realize that deku isnt actually that plain when you stare at his face long enough and oh wow uh—"

ANYWAY katsuki 💯 had a crush on dekus dad when he was younger. mitsuki makes fun of her son like ALL THE TIME for having a crush on her best friend. hisashi demonstrated his quirk once in front of the bakugous to show off a bartending trick and that was literally the first time katsuki ever complimented a quirk aside from his own

hisashi and deku at the same time combining their adorable energy: kacchan!!

katsuki, furiously blushing: STOP

anyway aside from katsuki—uraraka, todoroki, and shinsou DEFINITELY also have a crush on dekus dad. NO ONE CAN FIGHT ME ON THIS. obvs everyone in UA thinks hisashi's cool and SMOKIN, but those four have it like BAD.

SO BAD.

dekus oblivious to this. so is hisashi. he goes up to shouto once and ruffles his hair and calls him sport and todoroki sets his desk on fire.

uraraka keeps making things float accidentally because she gets sidetracked staring at deku and his dad side by side and "oh wow they both have a freckle on the back of their neck just a little below their left ears—"

shinsou just. goes up to deku n hands him a note that says "get ur dad out of my school"

BUT THE FUNNIEST PART THO. THE FUNNIEST PART.

all might has a crush on hisashi too.

LIKE HISASHI COMES BACK TO JAPAN N IS ALL LIKE "wow i miss being here! is all might still no. 1? hows my son doing? america was so stressful! im so glad to be back in sweet home musutafu :)"

n then he comes home and all mights eating ice cream on the couch cursing at the football game on TV

hisashi: ....all might-san?

toshinori: u-aH? uh? good evening er. uh. mr. midoriya?? welcome home! im going to gay—i mean go!!

hisashi: w—

toshinori, panicking and reverting to symbol of peace dealing with PR mode: ENJOY YOUR SON! HAVE A NICE STAY! DONT DO DRUGS *leaves house in sweatpants and slams the door shut*

toshinori, internally: oh my god what the fuck what the fuck is this a quirk am i dying

when it calms down tho toshinoris still a blushing stuttering mess buT AT LEAST YK WHAT?? they bond over talking about america and deku!!

they both go on long af rambles about american lifestyles n all the weird people theyve met while in there and then they start throwing around words like bucky's convenience store and bubba gump shrimps and everyone stops listening

izuku notices how weird his mentor is around his dad but doesnt rlly care bc two!!! two father figures!!!! and a mom figure!!!!! they all play (quirk powered) dodgeball every other sunday while 1A watches in a mix of horror, attraction, and unbridled joy.

toshinori: oh my god why did they both have to be hot. why couldnt it have just been inko? thats easier to deal with. i cant do both. i cant HANDLE both. who allowed this? why?

aizawa: how the fuck did you get into my office its 4 am yagi.