#Not sure how to present it but if anybody else wants to run with it feel free!

[somegrumpynerd]

Has anybody done like, a utmv murder mystery? Like clue?

Nightmare is found dead in his castle and everybody's a suspect; his henchmen for killing him to escape, the stars for being his enemies, error for wanting to kill everyone, etc. and you have to find out what everyone was doing and figure out who did it

[callmemickey]

Cumming Home for Christmas

synopsis: Simon surprised you by being home 3 weeks early, which means you get to take him to your family’s Christmas get together! Unfortunately, Simon hasn’t had his fill of you… How thin do you think the walls are in the bathroom?

content: Afab, porn w a plot, smut (dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, quickie, slightly public? maybe other stuff idk) fluff fluff fluff kind of angst if you squint real hard he just loves you sm my sweet Angel babey reader muah love u 2

word count: 3.7k

notes: Don’t ask me why I chose Christmas this is purely self-indulgent. Also, he’s a brunette going off of the comics, so I’m running with that thx!

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Warm Christmas lights, sparkling ciders and the expensive alcohol, the soft hum of cozy Christmas jazz on the speakers, family buzzing and soaking in each other’s presence - there was nothing else you could ask for. In this massive sea of black and red formal attire, your family, both close and extended, came together for an amazing holiday party at your grandparents’ estate.

Simon, who surprised you by coming home over three weeks early, has accompanied you as your plus one to the family’s holiday party. It made the event even better. Your family adored Simon to bits and pieces, constantly embarrassing you in front of him, begging to know when he wanted to start a family with you, your aunts drinking too much and asking him to take off his coat and flex. He dealt with the melting pot of clashing personalities better than you had ever imagined.

Simon expertly handled the socializing carefully and precisely. He preferred to be an observer in these bigger settings rather than to speak. He gave simple answers that were concise one liners, saving his social battery. So, to make up for it, he would escape to assist anybody needing aid. When dinner was ready, he assisted in the kitchen, making sure that everybody had their meals first, and was later caught cleaning the kitchen (much to your displeasure). He also helped light your grandfather’s cigar outside. The Parkinson’s has been making it difficult for him to light them on his own, and Simon even listened to an old war story.

It was unbelievable how much you loved this man.

Now, nieces and nephews weaved between adults and furniture, the fireplace burned hot and strong, people laughed and yelled happily over the gentle music, and the scent of baking pies and pastries wafted and filled the air. Your lovely military fiancé, overworked and tired on his break, did so well to deal with this. Of course, Simon, being an incredibly selfless person willing to compromise in any situation or scenario just to make you happy, said that it was alright when you invited him. “Nothing would make me happier,” he had said in a low, roughened voice - which was right before he buried his face between your legs.

But I digress.

Simon stood next to you as your uncle told you both in absolute monotony about his recent trip to Italy, “So beautiful. Your aunt Amelia and I want to get a vacation home there.” He finished, and you nodded awkwardly. “Sounds like you and aunt Millie had a great time, uncle Mike.” Your tone was dry while Simon nodded and hummed in response. He just wasn’t… very present.

Simon had his attention and focus set on pretty high at the beginning of the night, but he was able to relax a little bit since then, to let himself just be in the moment - or so the psychiatrist says he should. He was actively paying attention to the conversation, yes that is true, but the hand holding your waist began to… wander, a little bit. Slowly at first, but much faster now. With a hand that started on your shoulder in the beginning of the night, bit by bit lowered down your back, smoothing above the top of your ass and to your hip. Fingers pressing deep into the black velvet of your dress, Simon tried to keep you caged next to him. That didn’t matter though, because you would have done little to resist him.

You two shared a quick glance. His dark brown eyes were slightly glossed, his gaze a salaciousness that he always brings home. Ooh, it made you want to rub your thighs together just to feel something. You nodded again to your uncle Mike when he brought up something else that was equally boring. Simon, having a better idea and use for his time, suddenly seemed to have remembered something, “Apologies, Mike, but Y/N and I have to make an important phone call.” You looked up at him.

That brief look in his eye was so, so hungry. The greed brewed like a dark storm. You felt a hot chill race down your spine, your core began to burn. You acted as if you remembered the same ‘something’ as well. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we almost forgot!” You gasped in a low voice. His fingers squeezed your hip, making your chest slowly fall into shallow breaths as you could imagine him purring in your ear.

Good girl.

You two waved him off as you turned to leave the kitchen. Simon took the wine glass from your hand and placed it on the countertops as you two walked through the doorway. His hand pressed on your lower back, guiding you into the dark hallway. The armoire in the middle lit with warm candles that smelled of cinnamon and spiced apples, casting shadows that bounced and flickered across the walls. It helped light your way to the restroom, but it also kept you two enveloped in shadows to help hide whatever sins you were going to commit. Simon, without a word, opened the bathroom, and with nobody inside, he sweeped you in, locking the door behind you two.

The bathroom had warm string lights strung across the crown molding, and a window with fake candles sat high on the wall. The room was a little loud with the echoes, so you smacked the switch on the wall to turn the fan on, hoping to mask whatever sounds were going to flood the room.

Not even a second, in such a calculated move, Simon plucked his mask off and had your lips locked with his as he hoisted you onto the sink counter. All you could do in that flurry of movement was gasp, his hands gingerly holding your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, sighing as you felt a hardened tent in his trousers press eagerly against your clothed cunt.

You ran your hands through his dark brown hair, a moan running from you into him as his hands gave your ass a harsh squeeze. He ground his hips into you, pulling a whimper from you as he pressed roughly against your thrumming clit. Simon broke from your mouth, kissing your neck as his fingers pushed up into your dress, grabbing your panties.

“Quiet - or they’ll hear us,” he whispered against your flesh. You panted with a nod as he slipped your panties off, tossing them onto the floor along with his jacket. Simon quickly unbuttoned his white sleeves, rolling them up to reveal his heavily veined forearms, his one arm tattooed with black. He expertly undid his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down slightly, his hardened cock springing free.

He kept kissing your neck, lightly sucking to tease but not enough to hickey or bruise. His fingers dipped into your embarrassingly wet sex, rubbing at your clit and folds before pushing two fingers into you. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, so wet already.” His voice was a growl against your neck, slowly pumping them, his fingers rubbing up against that spongy spot inside.

It caused you to mewl. Simon’s one hand jumped to cup your mouth shut, making you gasp. The movement threw you off balance, your upper back falling back to press against the mirror while grabbing onto his wrist for support. He continued to finger you and hold your mouth closed, your whimpers mumbled in his hand.

Just as quick as you just started grinding your hips, he pulled his fingers away. A disappointed moan left broken up between your mouth and his palm. Simon grabbed his cock and started to pump himself, lubricating it with your juices before rubbing against your clit. He moved his hand from your mouth down to your hip.

You whimpered, “Oh my god, Simon.” Your hips wriggled and bucked against the dizzying sensation. He chuckled, slowly pressing his cock into your hot, wet cunt. The familiar stretch made you hum in need. “You’re gonna tease me? On Christmas?” You whined, your legs once again wrapped around his hips, urging him to sink into you.

“Ahh, have you been a good girl, though?” He asked in a low rumble, his other hand grabbing the other hip, his prepared stance making your hole clench around his member. He had a half-lidded stare, swirling with a level of lust you couldn’t really see the end of - bottomless and ravenous. Simon towered over you.

“I’m always a good girl for you, Simon,” You cooed.

He slowly pushed in, making you inhale sharply as you stretched so wide to allow him to fit. You held your breath as he pushed his cock through. “I’m just teasing, love - I know you’ll always be my good girl,” he said with warmth in his voice.

His tip kissed your cervix as he nestled fully, deeply, completely. Your head rolled back on the mirror as a satisfied sigh escaped you, but Simon’s grip on your hips tightened intensely. You gasped as he began a fast pace, his hips slapping loudly against your thighs and echoing in the bathroom. It was almost too much. It gave you little time to prepare for his entering, but you settled nicely around him after a few more thrusts.

Simon wasn’t normally this fast. He loved to hit with hard strokes, but nothing typically of this pace. Fortunately, you weren’t one to complain. It was so goddamn good. You hate it when your fiancé is away, not knowing where he was for most of the time, but when he’s gone for so long and comes back? Fuck. It’s criminal how good the sex is. His impatience made it impeccable.

But you were desperate. You wanted to cry and moan and yell, to beg and pray for him to bring you to a higher plane of pleasure. Oh, God, you would do anything for it, anything for him. You grasped at his forearms, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving stinging crescent moon shaped imprints in their path. He groaned lightly at your sharp grip, a soft chuckle coming from him. “Oh, you like this?” He asked, and you nodded, biting your lower lip to keep anything but your gasps, pants, and squeaks from escaping.

“Touch yourself,” his voice wasn’t harsh, but it was a demand.

With one hand still on Simon’s arm, the other moved to your clit, and you began to rub in quick circles. Simon watched your face twist and change: your mouth hanging open as you panted, but occasionally closed to bite your lip so to stop yourself from moaning; eyes half-lidded, barely open, glazed, and painfully horny; back bowing and arching, your toes curling, body just at a loss at what it can handle. This was Simon’s favorite view in the world. It’s what he came home for. It’s what he fought for.

A moan tumbled from your mouth as you held on for dear life. “S-Simon!” You whined his name, the heat inside of you burning red hot, uncontrolled, and rampant.

“S’alright love,” his voice was soft, “you gonna cum?”

You nodded quickly, the fingers on your clit stuttering as you found your release fast approaching, his almost brutal pace not slowing in the slightest. “I’m gonna c- ah- cum, Simon!” You struggled not to say too loud. “Don't stop!”

“Come on, Y/N,” he ushered, “cum for me.” Simon knew how to drive you over the edge. His hand reached out, firmly but gently cupping over your mouth to keep your head in place - and to push back your lascivious sounds.

A moan found itself trapped, lodged in your throat as you fought with your whole might not to yell and cry out. Your orgasm ripped through and crashed over you like a tsunami. He had unraveled you.

Your back arched, and you couldn’t roll your head back. Your lashes flickered as you struggled to keep your eyes from crossing or rolling back to look at Simon while you came. The fingers you had on your clit stopped moving as you were paralyzed, but the grip you had on his forearm stayed strong, “Ahhh, fuckin’ look at you. That’s a good girl, cummin’ nice and pretty on my cock. You like that, yeah?” He groaned, hips putting in more power to drill into your tightened pussy, tears pricking at your eyes as the orgasm left your legs shaking around him.

Simon retracted his hand, grabbing back at your hip. You let out a quick, small cry as your free hand held back onto his forearm. “Y’alright, love?” He grunted, and you nodded furiously before he could stop, but he started slowing down. You didn’t want him too. “Need- I need you,” you gasped, “don’t stop, Simon.” You whimpered.

Oh, to be buried deep inside your pussy was all he could have ever hoped for upon coming home. Y/N, ever so kind and giving. Simon tightened his hands around your hips again and began the brutal pace as you struggled to keep silent.

That’s when you felt your body heating up again. Your sex thrummed with the building pleasure and excitement once more, causing you to moan while you held onto his wrists. A light sheen of sweat sat on your skin, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your flesh.

Simon moaned softly with a smirk, your fucked out expression and legs lazily clinging onto his hips was such an amazing sight. The snapping of him against you had beat your pussy red, leaving it angrily aroused. “You gonna cum again? Yeah? Ahhh, thas my needy girl.” Desperate, tiny grunts popped out of you with each thrust, your pussy swallowing Simon deeply.

“Si-Simon! Gonna- c-cum!” You gasped out with each pump. 

Your orgasm hit like a rapid flash of heat and pleasure. A squeal escaped you, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids fluttered as your eyes rolled back, legs around Simon’s waist tightened, your whole body trembled from his unrelenting pace. Your face was flushed red, eyes completely glazed and lost as your hair stuck to your face.

“Ah, f-fuck, so fuckin’ tight. So good - my girl is so good, God, cummin’ on my cock, just like that.” He growled, his hips slowly beginning to fall off rhythm while his orgasm began to creep up on him.

You moaned and begged, “Ah, Simon, nngh, I-I can’t- please cum!”

“Don’t you worry, g-gonna cum inside this pretty pussy,” Simon groaned, “gonna fill you up, yeah?”

You nodded furiously as your body screamed in overstimulation. “Please, I- ah! Too much, ah, you’re too much, Simon!” You cried out, your ever tightening cunt being stretched open, begging for his release.

“Y/N- Y/N, fuck!” He hissed as his hips slammed against you, tightly holding his cock against your cervix as if he was threatened to be ripped away. He groaned, emptying himself into you completely, his cock jerking and flexing harshly, making the veins on his shaft more pronounced. You whimpered, your cunt tensing around him as you felt hot waves shooting inside of you. He stayed for a moment while panting, his thighs shaking slightly, relishing in the feeling as oxytocin and dopamine flooded his brain. Simon pulled out, a throaty groan leaving you at the sudden emptiness, your legs letting go of him.

“Well… let’s hope nobody heard that.” Simon said in a low voice, pulling up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt and grabbing your panties for you. You slid off of the sink and inhaled sharply as your knees buckled. He immediately latched onto your arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, y’alright?” He asked, slowly loosening his grip to make sure you were okay on your own.

“My legs, Simon. Jesus Christian Christ - I can’t stand.” You huffed, leaning against the sink, glowering at him as you took your panties from his hand, embarrassed.

He unrolled his sleeves, buttoning them. “You’re really gonna talk like that? On Jesus’ birthday?” He looked at you as he grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. “What would your nan say, hmm?” He feigned sincerity, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he swung the jacket on.

“Well, the jokes on you because Christmas isn’t even Jesus’ birthday.” You snapped back at him, slowly sliding your underwear on as your knees shook like a newborn giraffe. He tutted in disapproval as he moved up to you.

Simon’s body was close, his body radiating warmth. He wasn’t one for a lot of physical affection, which was alright, so when he took the time to be attentive to you… you always melted against him immediately. His finger lightly hooked under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. Your body subconsciously gravitated towards him, like a moth seeing the moon for the very first time.

He leaned down, lips brushing so close to yours, your eyes still connected . “Fuck what day it really is - I just know I’m home.” Simon pushed in for a deep kiss, brimming with emotions, the kinds he couldn’t really say. As he pulled away, he couldn’t help but admire you.

The golden candlelight fluttered across his face. His tired but warm eyes studied you, as if seeing you for the first time, memorizing and mapping every freckle, wrinkle, and spot, because he���s scared that the moment he looks away, he’ll forget. He took in your flushed, messy appearance as if God himself sent down a heavenly body to give him a reason not just to fight, but to live; an angel on its mission as a guide, and he would willingly martyr himself on the ground at your feet if it meant he could just hear you say his name. Once.

Simon wanted to say these things, but he wouldn’t. He might never. But that’s alright, too. Not everyone is meant to love so boldly.

You cocked an eyebrow as he stared at you so intensely. “You okay there, Lieutenant?” You asked, a small smile on your lips.

He realized that, yes, it was alright that he didn’t say those things. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have to - you just knew. Everyday he thought about how he didn’t deserve you. You, ever so loyal and strong. You’ve given him a purpose, motive, after all of these years - alone.

He often wondered what he had done to deserve having someone like you in his life. Someone who loved and cultivated, with hands of soft mercy, so tender and kind. A voice of validation, honesty, reason, all stemming from your unconditional love. If he had met you years ago, before the therapy and psychiatry helped, he would’ve let your fingers prick and bleed as you grasped at his thorns while he plucked you of your petals, leaving you broken and bare.

He didn’t deserve you.

Simon returned the smile, his voice soft, “Never better.” His hands moved to hold your waist as you two shared a few more kisses. “You know I like it when you call me that,” he hummed in between the lip locking.

You moaned gently and teasingly bit his bottom lip, your hands pressing against and gliding up his shirt. You kissed his jawline and sighed, “Is that so, Lieutenant Riley?”

He squeezed your waist in a warning. “Careful, love, we don’t have time for round two. Save it for tonight.” Your pussy purred just as Simon pulled away, picking up the mask from the sink and putting it back on in an attempt to obscure his identity.

You hummed, legs still a little shaken. “Well, I might need a minute to get my feet under me. You… okay with managing my family alone?” You asked hesitantly, eyes slightly squinting as if to flinch. He studied you for a moment, eyes glancing you up and down. It made you a little self-conscious, causing you to shift.

“Of course, Y/N,” his tone was reassuring, and subtly professional, “you sure you want me to leave you? Just say the word, love.”

Your body relaxed a little, and you nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”

Simon faltered, if for a moment, before he gave you a soft squeeze on the arm, and left. You sighed, turning to lean onto the counter and fix your hair in the mirror. Your legs really were shaking, much to your surprise. Yes, yes, Simon makes you shake plenty, but he doesn’t always fuck that hard, if rarely. You couldn’t be more embarrassed. Sending your fiancé, who is not the biggest people-person, back to the wolves, but it’d be more embarrassing if you walked out there in your current state.

You fixed your dress and made sure you were able to stand properly again after a few minutes. Making sure your hair, makeup, and dress were all still together, you left the bathroom with caution. You quietly snuck down the hallway, back against the wall. You got to the doorway and peeked around the corner to peer into the party.

You don’t know how long you were in the bathroom for as the crowd surprisingly died down. Family members left for home, hotels, or whatever bedrooms your grandparents had available, so the end-of-the-night afterparty was intimate and calm. You inched into the room, eyes falling on Simon, who was outside with your grandfather, lighter in his hand.

You smiled gingerly as your mother called you over. “Sweetie, everybody loves Simon. I know he isn’t much of a talker, or a hugger, but he made a great impression.” Her voice was filled with warmth and happiness, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “He also listens to your grandfather’s stories, bless his heart.” She cooed. Your mother continued to speak, but her voice drowned out as you watched your future husband.

Simon stood at ease, with his hands held together and relaxed behind him as your grandfather engaged him in a story, puffing his cigar shakily as his hands trembled while he was animated. It was so calm and serene, watching him nod, the ghost of his jawline moving beneath the mask as he spoke. Your heart fluttered as Simon’s eyes flicked over and locked onto you, giving a little wink before turning his attention back to the present conversation.

Okay, you’re definitely sitting on his face tonight.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Big bad Overlord Husk does things to me... Can you please do something for him with a reader who combs his hair and makes sure he is presentable by doing things like adjusting his bowtie? (Romantic, please!) Thanks!

Hehe~! Oooh~! I like this idea a lot and it kinda reminds me of that Overlord Husk + Casino-Bae Angel Dust AU thingie! Why not make us the Casino Bae or I’m gonna call the ‘Casinofly’? I also need to start asking for gender, because I always default to female for most of the guys *sigh*

Overlord! Husker- Dolling Up

How did you manage to land being able to spend so much time with the Gambling Overlord? Not even you know, you’ve just become his personal little casinofly. The pretty face that gets to pamper and doll him up every single day, who may or may not be his current girlfriend

Husk enjoys the feeling of your cute little hands running over his blackish-gray feathery hair, gently combing the smooth semi-hard bristles of a brush over his head. The attention you put into grooming him

Husk knows this routine instinctively. He’ll sit down on his bed and order you to enter his room, waiting for you to brush his hair, style him up, spray him with some cologne, clean him to utter perfection so he’ll glow for his casino. You’re the only one he wants to be his pamperer

Husk can’t help but purr and purr loudly with every kiss and brush you give him. Kissing his ear tips or kissing the smoothly brushed back of his hair. He loves it and he couldn’t imagine anybody else doing this for him. He ends up walking out of the room with you on his arm whilst purring under his breath

“So… is today a Overlord meeting, hey?” You ask smoothly and elegantly in a soft-tone, lips perking out slightly with the nice black lipstick that your not-so-secret boyfriend, Husk, the gambling Overlord of the Pride Ring put on for you. A powerful, influential figure amongst this huge city so you’re pretty surprised he would spare you time and especially allow you to be his little pamperer. The lady that gets to dress him up and make him look presentable for the day

Husk nods slowly and carefully as you brush and style back his hair with a precise scoopful of gentle slick rather expensive hairgel, making sure it stays still, attractive and appealing. Making his quite tall tuft-tipped ears pop out a bit more as you clean off your fresh hair briefly with the nearby makeup wipes laid on the bed besides your makeup bag, before beginning to tie up his business meeting bowtie. It’s a different one than the usual bowtie

“Well yes, love. It’ll be for a hour or two. Now, may I ask you something?” Husk purrs out in his strong, deep and almost hypnotic voice, his hands laid in his lap as his high collared shirt snuggles his hips and his arms well, big feathery red and detailed wings drooped over on the bed comfortably

Sat down on his own grand silky bed in his mighty suite, fitting his appeal and his style very well. You’re the only one allowed into his room, just the pretty casinofly he has his eyes on

“Yes, Sir?” You ask warmly and almost delicately responding to your own boss, the Overlord that has both your soul and your heart in his grasp effortlessly, as your own gentle sparkly eyes focus on readjusting the bowtie around his neck slightly to make sure it’s neat and presentable for this important event

You want Husk to shine out the rest of his fellow Overlords, which is why you’re being precise but you’re always so precise, you always want him to look incredible

Fixing up the collar cuffs of the white dresshirt, you make sure his hands are free and smooth, the fur brushed and clean. All of his fur is brushed and clean, just as you desire. As soon as you’re done, waiting for Husk to speak once again after the few seconds of silence that radiates throughout the magnificent fancy room, the Gambling Overlord finally speaks again. His voice has that certain charm that can always put you in a trance

So effortlessly, you cannot believe just how effortless and impressive this demon is

“I wish for you to accompany me to this meeting. Do not worry about being unable to enter with me, I’ll let you in” Husk saying this so confidently and fearless, he is very certain about what he wants and he doesn’t suspect that you will not say no, but, he is surprised by the way you respond; widened glowing eyes, hands halting at putting on his suit jacket over his shoulders, your lips parting

You look so damn kissable and he can’t wait to kiss your pretty little face as soon as he can. For now, he’ll stay put and listen out for your own response as well as behave for your sake

Controlling your nerves and your beating heart. The idea of being around so many powerful sinners is intimidating and the idea of Husk wanting to bring you up to the Overlord meeting. It makes your cheeks burn up, you never thought he’d ever want to show people that he’s dating you, outside of the casino and outside of his domain. He must really like you! It almost feels unbelievable…

You quickly shake your head and begin to continue putting on his suit jacket, his three-piece suit for the business. Almost completely ready, Husk is waiting patiently and sitting silent like a curiously watching cat. As soon as your done, attaching a golden suit tassel chain

The Overlord towers over you as you step back and he smoothly picks up your hands, beginning to slide your bicep-length silky sparkly gloves. Finishing up the touches of that pretty classy yet semi-sexy ‘casino bae’-style of yours

Your eyes sparkled a bit more at Husk dressing you back, slowly and strongly turning you around. He offers his arm out and waits for your next action, sharp golden yellow eyes gleaming in your direction, almost sizing you up

He is waiting for you to accept his enticing welcoming invitation, he wants you to join him for this meeting and he’d be disappointed if you said no

Your heart dropped a bit at hearing the usual yet soothing vibration, humming through the air, of cat purring. Of Husk purring

“Shall we head out now, sweetheart?”

[stromblessed]

Mizu was wrong to let Akemi be taken because they both deserve better

First, a confession. When I saw this for the first time:

I was relieved. I knew that was what Mizu was going to say and I felt like it's what I would have said in that situation too.

When Akemi does this:

I cringed, because if we know anything about Mizu, it's that she (1) isn't quick to make friends (though to be fair, even though Akemi did try to kill Mizu, so did Taigen - multiple times! - and look how that turned out lol), and (2) doesn't take orders.

So when Akemi and Ringo and later Taigen get angry at Mizu, are they being unfair?

Sure, Mizu isn't obligated to treat Akemi - or Taigen or Ringo or anybody else - nicely, or to serve them, or to be honorable, or be a hero to them, or whatever. No human being is obligated to any other human being. We all have the choice to do whatever we want to anybody else. But the point of flawed characters in storytelling is the tension between those characters and their potential. Their growth into someone who can choose the higher, harder path, who chooses to be obligated to others, who chooses kindness and compassion.

Because Mizu's problem isn't revenge. Nobody is preaching at Mizu that revenge isn't the answer. Her circumstances do suck, her life has been incredibly unfair, she is marginalized, and as far as we and Mizu know for most of the season, she is a child born of violence and no one is saying that that violence doesn't deserve to be repaid in kind.

Mizu's problem is isolation. And the fact that she thinks she has no responsibility toward her fellow human beings, because her hatred of her own circumstances and her having no life outside of her quest devours everything else. This is a problem because it turns Mizu into the worst version of herself. A version that hurts the people who like Mizu, the people who care about her.

Practically, Mizu has just taken on an entire army almost by herself. She's hurt. She's exhausted. If she were to defend Akemi now, it'd be yet ANOTHER fight, this time against horsed and armored samurai.

But that's not the reason Mizu gives Ringo. Mizu's ability or willingness to fight isn't even on her mind. All she says is, "She's better off."

"She's better off" is Mizu deciding what's best for Akemi. Akemi's entire story is about her being a caged bird longing to fly free.

One after the other, every man and woman in Akemi's life makes her decisions for her. She has to grovel and smile prettily and lie through her teeth just for the chance to be heard. Mizu judges Akemi for being a rich princess who isn't being more grateful for what she has, all without understanding Akemi's situation, and without any curiosity for why Akemi feels the way she does. From Akemi's perspective, Mizu is just one more person (one more man!) in a long lineup who ignores Akemi's wishes and (casually!) makes a decision for her that impacts Akemi's life greatly.

In the end, even Seki concludes that Akemi should get to decide what's best for Akemi. What others think that Akemi SHOULD want does not matter compared to what Akemi wants for her own life. As Madame Kaji said - Madame Kaji, who despite calling out the weirdness of Akemi's situation as well as the childishness of her decision to run away - is the only person Akemi meets who doesn't try to make decisions for Akemi, but instead only challenges Akemi to work for and be worthy of what she wants - she needs to decide what she wants for her own fucking self, and then take it.

Mizu being born female does not make her automatically wiser for letting Akemi be taken, and it does not preclude her from having a hand in giving Akemi back to her jailers. A patriarchy that Mizu knows full well would stop Mizu from achieving her own goals if she didn't present as male.

Mizu is still understandable here. She just had to kill Kinuyo, a disabled girl sold by her father into prostitution, a girl in a situation so far beyond Akemi's worst imaginings that I can practically feel Mizu's world being rocked just by comparing them in her mind the way she most likely is. That still doesn't make it right for Mizu to let Akemi be carried off to be sold into marriage by her father against her wishes. Those "good options" Mizu thinks Akemi has don't exist, no more than they ever existed for Mizu. Akemi and Mizu both have to get creative, make the best of their circumstances, take dangerous risks, and break rules in order to have any control over their own lives.

Even on my first watch, when at first I thought that Mizu had made the right decision and that Akemi was being unreasonable, Akemi screaming Mizu's name while being dragged, LITERALLY DRAGGED, back to her father was haunting as hell.

Mizu had the power to help Akemi, and simply chose not to.

Mizu lets Akemi be taken, Akemi who has just begun to trust Mizu. Mizu calls Ringo weak and quickly - seemingly easily - turns her back on him. Mizu values her quest over Taigen's life, after Taigen has endured days of torture to protect her, and she not only risks his life in the process, but doesn't tell him that Akemi is engaged to someone else, or that she came looking for Taigen, or that she is in danger.

Mizu's sword breaks because it is too brittle. Too pure. Too singleminded. Mizu only melts down the meteorite metal when she mixes the metal with objects from parts of her life that have nothing to do with her quest. Objects from the people she cares about, and who care about her.

All I'm saying is - Mizu doesn't have to be a hero. But she is the better version of herself when she reaches out to help and connect with others. When she's just a decent, kinder human being. And I think that's what this story is telling us that we should want for Mizu.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 6

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: um... CLIFFHANGER?

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.4k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter 6 is here early!!! holy shit. this is the second to last chapter of take a bite, so next week's update will wrap everything up! i don't want to give too much away about what happens in this one, but just for reference... um. P.S. i'm sorry in advance. P.P.S. thank you so much tanni @love4myg for beta reading this chapter for me! you saved my wordy ass from publishing so many run-on sentences.

Chapter 6: Y’all Ain’t Never Been To A Party Before?

“Y/N, YOU WHORE!”

So, many things are happening. Holy shit.

First, to your surprise, midnight kimchijeon with Yoongi last night very quickly devolved into more sex.

You had been a little bit anxious while you watched him cook, and even more anxious while you both ate in relative silence, that the weirdness coming off of Yoongi in waves at the mention of Yijeong had effectively killed the vibe. Thankfully, being bent over his kitchen counter and fucked into oblivion did wonders to kill that worry before it fully took root.

It was… You’ve never been fucked quite like that before. Practically drooling onto the marble beneath you as he pounded into you, his hands gripping at your ass, his gravelly voice in your ear, growling “thank me again. You wanna come? Thank me for fucking you like this, come on, show me how much you fucking like it,” and you did. Fuck, he was mean, but you liked it, you liked it so much.

For somebody who very openly prefers to remain completely stationary (and horizontal, if he can help it), Yoongi sure has a fuckton of stamina. So… score.

Second, due to said stamina and your resulting exhaustion following round two, you ended up staying over at Yoongi’s apartment last night. Which was not the plan originally, but both you and Yoongi were unconvinced that you could safely make the journey down the hall back to your own apartment. When the opportunity to crash on a purple mattress presented itself so enticingly, you were powerless to resist.

You both fell asleep very tired and very unclothed, the latter of which probably would’ve resulted in even more sex come morning—sex you were very much looking forward to—if you hadn’t awoken to approximately seven trillion notifications on your phone from Rina, scaring the absolute piss out of you and forcing you to leave a very confused Yoongi to deal with his morning wood all by his lonesome. 

It’s around eleven in the morning, the latest you’ve slept in months, when you roll into your own apartment, sleep-mussed and fucked out.

Which brings you to the third thing.

Rina is here. Like, here. In your apartment. Not in Paris.

Breaking the sound barrier with her excitement as she looks you up and down, in all of your walk-of-shame glory.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice still scratchy with sleep. You toss your keys on the closest flat surface to give Rina a very confused hug. You missed her, of course. Terribly so, and that outweighs anything else. But also, what?

“What weren’t you doing here?” Rina quips, squeezing you tight in return. “And please tell me the answer is Yoongi.”

It dawns on you that you and Rina haven’t really spoken since you actually went through with everything, being in different time zones and all. ‘Yoongi invited me to his studio where he produces music and then made me come with his tongue so hard I almost died’ didn’t seem like an announcement to be made over text.

“I don’t think that makes sense,” you mumble into her shoulder before pulling away, sheepish. “But yes, I was at Yoongi’s.”

“Slut,” Rina squeals, her hands latching onto your shoulders and shaking you. “I need to meet him.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes widen instantly, slight panic overtaking you as you glance back at your door. You know Rina, and you know that she is not above striding over to Yoongi’s apartment right now and getting a good eyeful for herself.

“Oh my god, Rina, no.” You grab Rina’s hands firmly, pleading. “He’s barely even awake. I promise I’ll tell you every last detail if you don’t do that, holy shit.”

She laughs, pulling her hands away to cross her arms, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. “I’m waiting.”

You sigh, trudging into your kitchen to start a pot of coffee, since you’re clearly going to need it.

“Tell me why you’re in my apartment first,” you say, fishing two mugs out of a cabinet and setting them on the counter. “Not that I mind, but… Paris?”

After the coffee is brewed and doled out, you both move to your couch for a much-needed debriefing of the past few weeks. 

Over your steaming mugs, Rina explains to you that she has come to the liberating realization that the show will in fact go on without her. 

Her stint in Paris, as fun and fabulous as it was, also made her lonely, and once she was confident the theatre company she was collaborating with would do her work justice without her helicoptering over them, Rina immediately booked the first flight to you.

She plans to stick around for an undetermined period of time, as long as you’ll have her, if you’re okay with that—duh, you tell her with a flick to the forehead—and then go home to her boyfriend for a much-needed hiatus from theatre.

Rina tells you everything about Paris: the sightseeing, the shopping. Her show, the reaction it garnered. In return, you give her all of the gory details about Yoongi. All of them, because she’ll sense it if you leave anything out.

You tell her about the night in his studio, how you deliberated and deliberated until you finally gave in, and how you were rewarded with Yoongi’s head between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved.

You tell her about the horribly inappropriate and ridiculously hot sexting that took place in your open floor plan office, how he described in detail what he was going to do to you when he finally got the chance. You hand your phone over without a fight when she demands to read the messages herself, staring down into your mug as she screeches with delight while reading.

You tell her about last night, how Yoongi made good on all of his promises and then some. How he took his time learning the cues of your body. And about the kimchijeon, because it’s really unfair that Yoongi seems to be good at everything.

Rina whistles lowly, raising an eyebrow at you as she takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Okay, I really need to meet him now,” she says.

“There was a weird moment,” you lament, sinking into the couch. “I might be overthinking—”

“Most likely—”

“But, there was definitely a moment,” you continue, firm. You know what you saw. “I got this killer opportunity at work to write about this producer, and Yoongi knows him, so I asked him to put in a good word for me, and he, like, froze up for a second. I don’t know.”

“Was that before or after he fucked your brains out?”

You snort, mumbling into your coffee as you go for a sip. “Between.”

“Okay, so, he’s probably over it if he went back for seconds,” Rina reasons, shrugging. “Why don’t you just ask him about it?”

You shake your head. “If he’s moved past it, I don’t want to bring it up again and risk popping the sex bubble we’re in,” you say. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking. Yoongi’s Yoongi. He would’ve said no if he really wasn’t cool with it.”

Rina hums, nodding sagely. “Don’t pop the sex bubble,” she agrees. “It’s your job, anyway. Using your connections. I’m sure he’s dealt with reporters before, being who he is. He probably gets it.”

Your phone buzzes, and you set your mug down to fish it out from between the couch cushions. “Yeah.”

Speak of the devil.

Once you grab hold of your phone, you’re greeted with a text from Yoongi. It seems he’s been busy since your abrupt departure. 

[11:58] Yoongi: Spoke to Yijeong. He’s going to be at a label party tonight and he’s down to meet you if you’ll go. I’ll take you.

And then, another.

[11:58] Yoongi: Kind of a fancy thing, though. Cocktail attire. Lmk. 

Normally you’d dread everything he’s proposing—uncomfortable shoes at a party where you don’t know a soul wouldn’t be your first choice for a Saturday night—but you find yourself biting your lip to mask the stupid grin forming on your face. You’re getting your interview and there’s a high possibility you’ll get to see Yoongi in a suit? Everything’s coming up Y/N. 

You lift your gaze from your phone to Rina, who looks at you expectantly. 

“Bring any dresses back with you from Paris?”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi swings by to pick you up hours later, you’re more than a little grateful you share a dress size with your best friend. 

Rina did, in fact, bring dresses back with her from Paris, and the second this particular one slipped onto your body she had no choice but to declare that it was yours.

It’s just your style—black, simple, form-fitting enough that you look fucking good in it, but long enough to wear to what is essentially a work event. Lace detailing on the bodice. A teasing slit up the side. And it’s from Paris, and while you don’t particularly love the French for much, they can make a damn garment. Yeah, you want to be buried in this dress.

Yoongi leans against the door jamb, not the slightest bit subtle as his eyes rake over you. You smirk to yourself as you bend down to get your heels on. 

“Pretty dress,” he says, though his tone does little to mask what he’s really thinking. Fuck the party. Under any other circumstances, you’d agree, but duty calls.

“It’s hers,” you say, standing upright and jerking your chin back in Rina’s direction. Rina, who is lingering in your kitchen, very obviously exercising all of her restraint not to crowd Yoongi right now and inspect him like a toy. 

“It’s yours,” she corrects, gritting the words out. Good thing you made her promise to be normal.

You take a moment to look at Yoongi, who, to your delight, is wearing a suit. Black, like your dress. What a pair the two of you make.

“You clean up nice,” you say, drinking in the sight of him just as shamelessly as he did to you. Letting your eyes speak for you.

The suit is simple, also like your dress, but the long lines accentuate his legs, making him look taller. Crisp white shirt. Black tie. Hair styled out of his face. He looks good, and he knows it. You can tell in the way he’s carrying himself.

Yoongi hums, smirking. “So I’ve heard.” He glances behind you, at Rina, and then back at you. “The playwright? Rina?”

You nod, surprised that he was able to recall her name. 

He looks back at Rina, smiling at her. “How was Paris?”

The memory on this man. 

“Great,” Rina says tightly. You’re almost proud of her.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says, eyebrow raising at the weird tension wafting from your kitchen.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says emphatically, and you snort.

“Ah.” You note that the tips of Yoongi’s ears are pink. Yours would be too, if you were in a room with two people who discussed the way you fuck in-depth. “Good things, I hope.”

“Ready to go?” you chirp as you grab your bag, taking pity on Rina. Any more and she’ll snap, you’re sure of it.

Yoongi nods and steps back into the hallway, allowing you to slip out the door. 

“Nice to meet you,” he calls to Rina as you shut the door, and then you’re both moving.

★ ★ ★

The ride to the party itself is uneventful. Although you’re giddy at the confirmation that the sex bubble has indeed remained unpopped, the second you’re seated in Yoongi’s car you shift into work mode. 

The tiny notepad you’d stuffed in your bag is now clutched in your hand, and the near silence in the car is only interrupted with the occasional question or clarification on something you’ve jotted down in your research on Yijeong. Yoongi answers to the best of his knowledge, supplementing where he can, but it’s clear you’ve done your due diligence. You’re ready.

Yoongi’s car comes to a crawl, and you peer out the window at the outrageous mansion he’s brought you to. You’d barely been paying attention when he’d stopped at the gate to give his name for entry, but now that you’re here, you’re struck by the luxury that awaits you on the other side of the passenger door.

A huge, freshly manicured lawn. Equally manicured shrubbery. A neon-lit fountain in the middle of the driveway, right in front of the imposing entryway to the biggest house you’ve ever seen in person. Modern, sleek architecture composing the monolith before you.

Yoongi hops out of the car to walk around to the passenger side and open the door for you. He helps you out, steadying you as your heels connect with the gravel beneath you.

The house is clearly bustling with people, music seeping out into the night as partygoers filter in and out, as others gather on the balconies (plural!) for cigarettes.

“Whose party is this?” you ask, amazed as Yoongi hands his keys off to the valet—a valet, at somebody’s home. 

“Bang Si-Hyuk,” Yoongi says as he watches his car depart without him, clearly not sharing your amazement. Right, you remind yourself. He’s used to this kind of thing. You, however, feel horribly out of your element, even in your Parisian dress.

He offers you his arm and you take it, staring down at your feet as you walk through the gravel so as not to twist your ankle. You can do this. Networking opportunities galore.

The doors to Bang Si-Hyuk’s mansion are opened for the both of you by the two men flanking it, revealing the party unfolding inside. You gawk, clutching your bag and the notebook inside of it, as Yoongi takes your free hand. He gives it a small squeeze before guiding you past the foyer, past clusters of celebrities and executives, caterers balancing trays of tiny hors d'oeuvres, all the way to the bar.

When prompted, Yoongi, predictably, orders an old fashioned. You opt for a vodka martini, something to quell the nerves mounting inside of you. You’ve come a long way from plastic cups of cheap beer at a Western bar, it seems.

The bartender procures your drinks, sliding them over to the both of you on cocktail napkins, and Yoongi clinks his glass against yours.

“You look like you’re going to shit yourself,” he says, grinning into his glass and taking a swig.

“I hate you,” you mumble in kind, letting the vodka warm your throat as you take a sip of your own. “Remind me again why you live in our apartment complex?”

“Because I’m not Bang Si-Hyuk,” he says simply, setting his drink down as a woman with long, sleek hair in a slinky dress approaches the both of you, though her eyes are focused on Yoongi.

She’s gorgeous. You recognize her, but your memory fails you as you come up short on her name.

“Min Yoongi, as I live and breathe,” she says with a dazzling grin as Yoongi extends his arm out to clasp her hand. She takes hold of his easily and doesn’t let go as she continues speaking in a familiar tone. Hm. “What a surprise.”

“Noona,” Yoongi says, mouth quirking up at the corners as he turns his head to you, his hand still clasped in hers. “Y/N, this is Shin Suran.”

Suran like the singer, your brain helpfully pieces together. You’ve heard her songs on the radio before, read about her in Look Here long before you started. She had a single years back that charted like crazy, a single that you personally own. She’s done a song with Dean before. And she seems to know Yoongi very well, based on the way she’s still touching him. Something stirs in your gut.

Suran’s attention finally turns towards you, her hand leaving Yoongi’s at last as she reaches out to shake yours. You set your glass down on the bar behind you, wipe the condensation off on your dress as discreetly as you can.

“Y/N,” she says, tilting her head at you as you take her offered hand and shake. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well. I loved ‘Wine,’” you respond, politely extricating your hand to pick up your glass and take another sip of your drink. It’s true, you did love ‘Wine’ when it came out, and despite your distaste for this interaction in general, Suran is supremely talented, there’s no denying it. Not to mention a potential connection for you, thanks to Yoongi.

Suran laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “I appreciate that,” she says warmly before glancing at Yoongi. “Although, that song wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for Yoongi-yah.”

…Huh?

It clicks then, your brain coming online in an instant. 

Yoongi, your Yoongi—the one who lives down the hall from you, who sends you cat videos while you’re at work, who calls you baby when he fucks you—is Suga. 2017 Hot Trend Award winner Suga. Over one hundred KOMCA credits to his name Suga. That he’s not just your Yoongi, but very likely one of the most famous people in this room. That he might’ve been Suran’s Yoongi, too, at one point.

You’d known that he was famous, sure. You’d been to his studio, seen the awards on the wall, although you’d been to preoccupied with wanting to fuck him to actually read them. His studio setup alone told you that he had money, not to mention the paid driver he sent you, the small flashes of luxury in his otherwise humble apartment. But this…

You realize, to add insult to injury, that the song filtering through the speakers right now is his. 

“Noona,” Yoongi says, his eyes locked on you as he speaks, although you sure as hell aren’t his noona. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

You barely catch their goodbyes, picking up your martini to stare into as Suran departs.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says softly.

“You didn’t tell me you were Suga.” 

The name feels weighty on your tongue. You don’t know why it bothers you so much, that you didn’t know. That he didn’t tell you outright. But it does.

Yoongi shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly, his body stiff next to yours.

“You didn’t ask,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I was hiding it from you.”

“Seems like the kind of thing to lead with,” you mumble back, taking a long swig, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Yeah, I don’t make a habit of doing that,” he says. You lift your head to look at him at the bitter tone in his voice, trying to decipher the look on his face, but you’re at a loss. You’re beginning to realize just how little you know about your neighbor. Your friend. Your… Well, he’s more than that now, isn’t he? 

How many details about Yoongi have you let slip from your memory, while he seems to hold on to every little thing he learns about you?

He polishes off his drink and sets his glass down, pulling his phone from his back pocket to send off a text, not looking up from the screen as he speaks. “Ready to meet Yijeong?”

You sigh, suddenly right back where you were last night when you asked him about Yijeong in the first place, but you nod. “Yeah.”

At the responding buzz, Yoongi pockets his phone and wordlessly leads you through the party. You ignore the way your hand in his feels more like a necessary evil this time around.

★ ★ ★

Jang Yijeong is remarkably handsome, tall and lithe in his suit as he puffs on a cigarette. Meeting him isn’t nearly as nerve wracking as you’d thought, although you’re sure you have Yoongi to thank for that.

As soon as you step foot on the balcony, your brain shifts back into work mode with little effort. You watch as Yoongi and Yijeong greet each other with a hug, which you didn’t expect, and they immediately fall into a rapport that can only come from years of familiarity. Yoongi said he knew Yijeong, but he conveniently left out the fact that they’re, like, besties or something. They’re getting a little annoying, these omissions of Yoongi’s. 

Mercifully, Yoongi seems eager to get out of your way as soon as possible. According to Yijeong, he and Yoongi have been working closely for the past month, so he’s kind of sick of looking at his face anyway.

After a muttered, almost fond ‘go fuck yourself’ from Yoongi, he’s leaving you in Yijeong’s care, both of you sitting on the patio furniture kindly provided by Bang Si-Hyuk on the balcony.

“So,” your interviewee starts, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You must be pretty special, getting Yoongi-yah to make an appearance at one of these things.” He gestures at the fanfare through the balcony doors with his free hand.

“I’m not here to talk about me,” you say shyly, balancing your notepad on your knee as you set your phone to record and slide it onto the table between you, next to an ornate ashtray. “I’m here to talk about you.”

“Very nice,” Yijeong hums, amused. “I’m serious, though. I’ve been going to these since I debuted. Album release parties, award ceremonies, anything I could get an invite to. But I haven’t seen Yoongi at one in years. He hates this shit.”

“When I made the switch to producing, I practically begged him to come out of hiding and be my plus-one. He’s been producing for way longer. He knows the people at these things, knows how to work them if he has to,” he continues. “Yoongi and I have been friends for a long time. He’s practically my brother. But I couldn’t get him to say yes.”

Nothing about that tracks. Yoongi and Yijeong, if your math is mathing correctly, have known each other for the better part of a decade. You’ve only known Yoongi for a month and a half. If he’s as much of a hermit as Yijeong insists, why would he do this for you if Yijeong couldn’t get him to budge?

You think about Suran and how surprised she seemed to see Yoongi. You think about the text you got this afternoon, how he didn’t give any indication that going to this party was outside of his comfort zone. Another omission, except this time you don’t feel annoyance, but something else entirely. Something you don’t dare name. You shift in your seat.

“I’m just saying,” he says warmly, ashing his cigarette in the tray between you, meeting your eyes. “You must be special.”

You don’t know what to say in response, and you know it shows. Yijeong laughs at whatever expression he finds on your face, warmth blooming in your cheeks as your eyes burn holes in the notepad on your knee. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, grinning and raising his hands up in surrender. “Do your worst. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, so I might be a little rusty. But for you, mystery girl, I’m an open book.”

Yijeong speaks to you like an old friend. He tells you about how he fell in love with singing in the fourth grade, when he sang ‘Azalea’ by Maya in front of the eommas and appas of his peers and got a taste of what it’s like to sing for an audience. He opens up to you about losing control of his own voice during his career as an idol, how he didn’t know what was wrong, was wracked with fear over it. 

He tells you about becoming friends with Yoongi, about being taken under his wing to learn a whole new skill and take a new direction with his career. How Yoongi opened a door for him that he didn’t even know existed. You learn that Yijeong has been collaborating with Yoongi for years now without drawing too much attention to it, but now that he can stand alone, he’s ready to step back into the limelight as EL CAPITXN.

You get so enraptured in the conversation, dutifully scribbling notes and asking follow-up questions, that you barely notice that over half an hour has passed by.

“Y/N,” Yijeong says, smiling at you as he wraps up his answer to your last question. You don’t know how to explain it, but it makes so much sense to you that this man is Yoongi’s friend. Maybe it’s the warmth in his voice. “You should probably go rescue Yoongi-yah from those leeches inside.”

“Yeah,” you agree, biting back a smile at the thought of Yoongi braving rookie idols and sleazy executives, trying to find a wall to hug while he waits. For you. He’s doing this for your career, for you. “It was lovely to meet you, Yijeong.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Yijeong insists, watching you knowingly as you pack up your notepad and pen, moving to stand. “Y/N-ah,” he calls, making you pause at the balcony door. “Treat him well, okay?”

Something that you’ve been ignoring for a long time unfurls in your chest.

“I will,” you promise softly.

You push the balcony door open, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you make your way back to the bar. You will rescue Yoongi, want nothing more than to be with him again, but you need the liquid courage now more than ever.

Here’s what you know: You have spent the last three years terrified of falling. Starving yourself from the full breadth of friendship, of intimacy, of love, because of what happened the last time you let yourself have it. You’ve convinced yourself that any man that claims interest in you would do the same in the long run, that being career-driven is a deterrent to love and nobody will ever accept you for who you are.

But you also know this: Yoongi sees you. He understands you. Unlike your ex, he doesn’t feel hurt when you disappear for days on end, lost in your work, because he’s very likely doing the same. And yet he still finds time to read everything that gets published under your name. He offers his studio as a safe haven for you to write when the words stop flowing in your own office. He goes to parties he’d normally rather die than attend just so you can get an interview, because it’s important to you.

You don’t want to starve anymore. Min Yoongi has been staring you in the face for the past month and a half, offering you everything you’ve been scared of since your ex left you three years ago, all alone in a strange city. Offering you all of his support and kindness and closeness like a filling meal. And for the first time in a very long time, you want to try and take a bite.

Terrifyingly, you really, really fucking like him. Not just as a friend.

You finish your martini quickly before weaving through the crowd to find Yoongi. And you do, leaning against the furthest wall. Drink in hand, just like the night you met.

When you approach, he lifts his head and your heart soars when your eyes meet.

“Ready to go?” he asks, none the wiser to your sudden change of heart. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, let’s go.”

★ ★ ★

You barely make it into your shared hallway before you’re on Yoongi, your body pressing against his and your arms looped around his neck as you pull him into a searing kiss. He tastes like whiskey, and normally you’d hate that, but it tastes all the more sweet because it’s on Yoongi’s lips.

It’s so different, now that you’re allowing yourself to really feel it. You fit together so perfectly. His lips feel so right on yours. How could you have been so blind before?

You expect Yoongi to press you against the wall, or slide his hands up the skirt of your dress, or groan your name into your mouth like he can’t get enough of you. You know you can’t get enough of him. In his suit, waiting to be unwrapped like a present.

You want Yoongi to do those things, desperately. You want to pay attention properly this time, you want not to shy away from the intimacy of it all. You want whispered praise in your ear, eye contact while he fucks you, his lips on yours and his stilted moan as he spills inside of you. You want the softness that comes after, for him to clean you up with care and wrap you in his arms. You want to sleep in his bed for a reason other than exhaustion. 

But instead, Yoongi pulls away, grasping your shoulders gently as he creates distance between you. You look up at him, confused.

“Rina’s probably waiting for you,” he says.

“I promise you, she’s not,” you snort. Rina knows better than to expect you home before morning at the earliest. You surge forward, leaning up to chase his lips again, but he remains out of reach.

“Y/N…” Conflicted. 

Right. Of course, duh! You’re getting ahead of yourself. 

You forgot, in the haze of your epiphany, that your last conversation with Yoongi didn’t exactly bode well for your sex bubble. You need to set the record straight, then.

“Yoongi, if this is about earlier… the Suga thing,” you start, leaning in to pepper kisses down his neck, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his tie, loosening it. “I’m not mad, okay?”

Yoongi shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “No, I just…” He trails off, sighing. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Y/N. The friends with benefits thing.”

You freeze.

Dread fills you instantly, replacing all of the warmth that had been inhabiting your body just moments before.

Why now? What’s changed? You know what’s changed for you, but it can’t be the same for him if he’s pulling away from you like this.

Yoongi gently removes your hand from his tie, takes a step back from you. Crushes all of your hope with his next words.

“I just don’t know if I can do this with you.”

With you. 

“Oh,” you breathe. You feel like you’re going to cry. The beginnings of tears are already welling up in your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you say, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I still want to be your friend, Y/N,” Yoongi says, his voice pained, like he can see right through you. You wish he’d stop. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you say, your own voice breaking just a little. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Fuck that. “I’m gonna go home. See you.”

Before he has a chance to say anything else, you’re speedwalking to your apartment, fishing your keys out hurriedly to unlock it and rush in. 

Once you’re inside, you lean back against the door, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor. It feels so similar to the night you met him—running away from him in the hallway, feeling like you can’t breathe once you’re on the other side of the door. Too bad it’s so, so different.

At the sound of the door, Rina comes out from your bedroom, Pepper in tow.

“Y/N? Is that you? I thought for sure you’d be getting dicked down right about n—” You watch her stop in her tracks at the sight of you, her expression laden with concern. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“There are strings,” you sniffle, looking up at your best friend with watery eyes. “And it’s my fault.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Rina breathes, setting Pepper down and immediately joining you on the floor, wrapping her arms around you.

Your mind flashes back to three years ago, in a position not all that different from this one. But that was for a relationship, one that lasted years. One that you foolishly assumed was heading for marriage. Why does this hurt just as much? Why did Yoongi nestle himself into the softest, most vulnerable parts of you just to rip himself away at the last second?

You finally allow yourself to cry.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap

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[thelazycorset]

A Glimpse of Us

Geto x gn!Reader The reader is a sorcerer, with a unique domain

You inhaled deeply, enjoying every second of the time you have. A strong musky fragrance tickled your nose, with a hint of gunpowder and something that smelled like the ocean. You threaded your fingers through the silky, dark hair, eliciting a sweet hum from its owner.

You smiled, eyes still closed as you felt his arms hook around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Gosh, I love you.”, he said, voice deep but so, so sweet.

You opened your eyes to find his already staring at you.

“I love you too, Suguru.”

He smiled, but it was tinged with pain. He knew that this time he had with you wasn’t going to last forever. It was going to end painfully; physically for him, and emotionally for you.

“Don’t look at me like that, Suguru.”, you sighed, wanting to make the most of the little time you had.

He immediately corrected himself and smiled, truly happily.

“I’m sorry.”

You held back tears as you leaned over to kiss his forehead, the scar from those hideous stitches scratching against your lips.

You held him there, lips against his scars, hands in his hair, as you allowed yourself to feel all the emotions that had been piling up inside your chest.

Suguru held you as you sobbed, hating himself for having to put you through this pain.

But he had to do this, for the sake of the people he loved the most.

And sadly, the only one who could help him end this misery, was the one person he loved the most.

You.

He nudged you to look at him, and held your tear streaked cheek as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, my love…”, he said, voice lowering, “But it’s time.”

You sucked in a breath, and nodded.

You knew this is why you were here. It was comfortable, but agonising.

It had been a while since you had heard about Geto’s death. You were heartbroken and destroyed. But you somehow made it through the agonising nights and drab days.

Everything was finally going well, when he walked in through the door.

You saw him, standing so tall and alive, that you almost thought that you must have been dreaming.

But then you felt him.

The presence that had taken over your beloved’s body. A curse so evil and strong, that it almost overshadowed Geto’s energy.

You just stared at him, feeling the time around you freeze.

You hadn’t been in contact with anybody from jujutsu high for quite a while. The last time you spoke to Gojo, you had fought, during Geto's funeral.

The man, who was a mix of two sorcerers, turned to look at you, sensing your gaze. He seemed perplexed. 

You couldn’t read his face. He looked nonchalant, until you saw a sliver of shock.

He smiled at you, a crooked grin, as he said, “It’s been so long, y/n”

That’s when you broke out of the momentary spell, and gulped, choking out a feeble, “Yeah.”

Kenjaku cursed himself for running into one of Geto’s old buddies. He could sense the slight unease his body felt the moment he saw you looking at him, shock and an unknown expression on your face. He could remember your name, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t remember anything else about you.

He found it strange. It was almost as if Geto was purposefully keeping information from him.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Mahito had assured him that no traces of Geto remained in this body.

“You’re going to have to die now..”, he mumbled to himself, planning to lure you outside and get rid you in an alleyway; somewhere out of sight.

“Why don’t we head out of this cafe?”, he said, the smile ever-present.

“Why?”, you asked, not trusting him. You knew he was an enemy if he had taken over Geto’s body, but you couldn’t cause trouble here. The place was packed with people. And a fight here would mean many would get injured, if not worse.

“You know what, it’s been so long.”, you chimed quickly, “Sure, let’s get out of here.”

That’s how you got here, in your domain. Your domain separated the soul from the body. Any soul that enters, takes a form that it is most comfortable with. In this domain, everything is transparent. There are no lies, and everything is seen, including all the scars your soul has gathered throughout this lifetime.

This allowed you to talk to Geto, his soul. He explained everything that had happened, and how he needed you to do him a big favour. A favour that he hoped nobody would ever have to go through; to kill the person you love.

Your domain didn’t let Kenjaku enter, as you had control over whom to allow in. He remained on the edge, an area that was just outside the real world, but not fully inside your domain.

If you decided to let him enter, he would be equally as powerful as you and geto, which was fairer than in the real world, as Geto had little to no control there.

In your heart, you held a lot of love for Suguru. When your souls entered the domain, you felt the scar on your chest, a reflection of the hurt your heart had felt when he passed.

You were both selfish, utilising this time to express your love to each other, and mutter those promises that had been left unsaid back then. That’s how you found yourself lying next to him on a silk bed, with sounds of birds and nature singing you awake from outside the window of the quaint house you were in.

It was all fake. 

A mere figment of your imaginations; a glimpse of the life you both had wanted.

“Is it already time for us to go?”, you whispered, scared to let go. You wouldn’t mind exhausting all your energy in keeping this domain up, if it meant that you could spend more time here, with him.

He chuckled, kissing you.

“It is, I’m afraid.”

You nodded, looking down. You had to do this. This is what he wanted. He just wanted to die, peacefully.

With a flick of your wrist, you changed the scene.

The house was gone, so was your bed. The sheets you both had spent hours shuffling were replaced by a darkness, everlasting and endless.

He stood a few feet from you, smiling, hope in his eyes.

That’s when you realised just how tired he was.

He looked forward to death.

“Okay.”, you whispered, a sad smile on your face.

“I loved you Geto. I always will.”

A flame rose in his chest, eating away at him.

That’s when you closed the domain, merging kenjaku and Suguru’s soul in that split second.

In the real world, you saw Geto bend over, clutching his chest.

He looked up at you, eyes wide, “What the fuck have you done?!”

“Rest in peace, Suguru.”, you said, a tear escaping.

“And I hope you go to hell.”

You watched him collapse to the ground, flames engulfing his body.

This time, you will see it through.

This time, you wont leave early.

This time, you will ensure that’s its a final goodbye.

[danieyells]

I have a memory span of a goldfish so I probably forget if someone has written about something related to this topic or not... but excluding Taiga who directly mentioned the topic to us, why does it seem that only Tohma and Alan are the only ones shown so far to know/talk about the existence of the spy and actively searching for them? I can only theorize that they were only being made aware of the spy's existence because something happened in Vagastrom that was caused by an unknown party and it probably directly/indirectly worsen the situation during The Clash... but it still made me curious why they were never seen communicating with ghouls from other houses about the spy even in subtle/discreet manner (either because they don't want to alert the spy or still aren't sure where the spy came from...?) and why none of the other ghouls seem to notice the oddity/draw their own conclusion and do their own investigation? (unless it is just... never being shown yet to us on-screen so we're left to believe that only Tohma and Alan and Taiga are the ones who know about the spy hjhdjdjdjdjdjfkl)

There's also this question about what makes Tohma and Alan trust each other/believe that neither of them are the spy himself... but I'm not ready to (over)think about this question so I will just believe that being a Vagastrom and (probably) forging their friendship through fistfights has created unbreakable bonds between them that can't easily be destroyed by mere existence of an unknown enemy 💪

So far we haven't seen anybody else talking about the spy, no! To be fair we haven't really found out who they would be spying for. . .they're trying to defame the ghouls as a whole but they're one of the ghouls themselves. . .to be fair we've only seen so many conversations between the ghouls without the PC present--and most of them seem concerned about their personal lives and missions more than any sort of greater plans.

It makes sense for Tohma--he has big plans that involve changing the Institute. Of course he's aware of the spy. And Alan is someone he probably trusts more than anyone. Alan is blunt and honest and straightforward--he couldn't run an operation intended to damage the reputations of the ghouls or be a spy or anything, he's just not built for it as a person--which also means he's vulnerable, I think. So he needs him to be aware for his own safety. And like you said, for characters like them I think a bond forged with bare fists is a bond that can't be broken lmao. He can trust Alan not to talk, even if he can't trust him not to let on that he knows something. But also Alan's reputation is already a mess. The likelihood that the spy would get too close to him feels slim to none to me. Just. Too big and obvious of a guy overall.

Taiga has his possibly stigma related Awareness--so if he just. . .knows, that also makes sense. He even says "do you wanna know who it is or keep letting them fool you" which tells me that he already knows and he's just not telling. He doesn't have to look for the spy, he's waiting to see what happens. He's looking out for himself and Romeo. Maybe the pc and Ritsu now too.

Also I feel like Tohma's interactions with Haku and Rui are supposed to be implicit of the spy situation, especially when Leo says someone(most likely Alan and Tohma?) are meeting near the "gross forest"(Obscuary, probably.) and there's Rui who can obscure himself in the shadows and admits to keeping an eye on people. . . .

But I assume that Tohma doesn't trust others with it at the moment, not until he knows for sure who the spy is. And everyone else is far too busy running their houses and living their lives to notice whatever Tohma and Alan noticed(or they simply don't question it or they accept it because 'whatever, our reputations sre bad anyway, how much more damage could someone else do?' or 'we're graduating soon anyway' for the third years, and they're probably not nearly as reliable in Tohma's eyes? I mean think about who all the other second and third years and captains and vice captains are. Not really the most trustworthy bunch with a delicate situation, especially if it's possible that they could be connected to the spy.

I imagine we'll learn more whenever we get back to Vagastrom or Frostheim!! But I think the spy situation is gonna have to be addressed closer to learning about the Clash. And I feel like we haven't quite gotten there with everyone yet, so we're a ways off.

On the other hand, Ed has a home screen line to the effect of "the ghouls are rioting again? They're so energetic. Anyway i was watching a youtube video." and next chapter is Obscuary so. . . . . . . . . . .

[danmeiconfession]

My thoughts/rants aren't very coherent so just take it as me rambling instead lol .

 Although sj's treatment of lbh was awful, lbh is still sj's direct disciple and the matter of his discipline rests on sj, so it's awkward for outsiders to interfere. it's not right but hey neither is slavery or child marriage so them's the works.

LBH was free to leave Qing Jing Peak at any time - but perhaps not in his own mind. This is interesting bc imo him and sj never had a relationship where sj was gaslighting lbh into staying. in fact i'd say sj made it plenty clear he found lbh to be an eyesore but maybe in those years sj had some intermittent spots of mercy lbh latched onto and then just never gave up hope.

Unless, Well looking at SV canon and how the system didn't penalize sy for the medicine + carriage ride after sy explained his thought process, it wouldn't surprise me if those types of events happened with sj and lbg. if sj had to bring lbh out on a night hunt he prolly made sure lbh was patched up + looked presentable so he didn't ruin the cohesive aesthetic of his peak haha and well NYY is always a weak point. these things definitely wasn't usual but likely happened often -enough- for lbh to get his hopes up over and over .

As modern people, we of course abhor the way that LBH was treated and SQQ comes off as abusive and a slimy lecher. But by the standards of his own age, everything he's done is perfectly acceptable. In traditional Chinese philosophy, the teacher is like a father, and a father and a teacher can do whatever they want to their child / pupil. Even in modern China, teachers have been known to get away with beating their pupils. In the UK (where I'm from), it wasn't so long ago that teachers could cane their students and no one blinked an eye about parents beating their kids. Slavery, child marriage, selling your wife or daughter into prostitution, all of that was totally legal in ancient China.

I always thought it was strange that OG LBH fixated so much on SQQ that he tortured him so horribly, but there's no mention of him doing the same to everyone else who ever wronged him, no matter how small. I think being pushed into the Abyss the last straw but I also think the reason he so hard-wired to think of his Shizun as this unfeeling man and tortured him limbless is because He got rejected so many women like him but the one man he chased relentlessly for years for his eyes to even graze him he look the other way which is why I think his eye got taken out ?

After the loss of his mother, lbh expected to find a new family in qjp and a new parental figure in sj. The greater the expectation the greater the disappointment. obv jiumei is not in the right condition to play mother hen to anybody. | ಠ ∧ ಠ | but lil bingbing didn't know that and arguably maybe he understood his foster mother was treated bad bc she was a servant but he couldn't understand why sqq, an immortal cultivator, is so hellbent on bullying some unknown kid.

Also, why does it bug Binghe that much? Why was it brought up against SJ during his trial in Proud Immortal Demon Way? Maybe it's just critical research failure on Airplane's part, but in ancient China, visiting prostitutes was completely normal. Men could have multiples wives and concubines and sleep with their servants and go around to the local brothel. Visiting a prostitute was just a leisure activity.Like, t says something about Binghe's obsession with SQQ in PIDW that he's fixated on SQQ's alleged bedroom habits?

Of course we modern people and Luo Binghe have a right to be mad, but justice in ancient xianxia China is... putting it lightly, biased... This is a world that shrugs off almost any crime if your position is high enough.

100% LBH is right to be upset, but the problems run much deeper than SQQ, their whole world is rotten. Him being mad about SQQ yeeting him is kind of confusing, he's legit to be hurt about it but any Cultivator would have killed LBH on sight when he was revealed to be a demon, and a heavenly one at that.

Which is why i'm forgiving with Shen Jiu because why judge him from a lens from the modern viewpoint because on top of the shitty things that happened to his life him being an abusive teacher isn't really so damning when the entire Cultivation worls is corrupt??? In a way the original PIDW was a hypocritical abuse apologism story with the mentality that any abuse against the protag was unjust and wrong and any abuse he committed whether disproportionate or targeted at people who never did anything to him was righteous or deserved was a criticism of the stallion protags and that it was never equal to begin with Shen jiu never deserved such torture they were never on equal footings to begin with. Yeah, he was vicious but it hypocritical. I never took Shen Yuan being with Binghe as a reward but a punishment for being such a troll and idol-obsessed that he ended up with Bingmei dude. Sorry if ending up with a mentally ill man and one who sa him and only cared for his own needs during the act with no regard for their partner and i'm breaking yall illusion with this toxic ship.

Considering what went down with LQG and SJ when they where disciples it does seem like there is a lot of bullying. If PIDW is like other Xianxia novels, or even historical dramas then there is probably a lot of underhanded sabotage by students against one another. Many cultivation novels with sects have kids fight over food and resources and if you can't cut it then you leave or you languish. A peak like SQQs may well have such things as part of their education because it's a strategist and scholarly peak, any student who couldn't figure out how to sabotage rivals, curry favor with the right people, manipulate, info gather, and navigate dangerous political situations on top of doing well in normal studies wouldn't fair well in such a place. - I doubt this to be the case in canon as SQQ is supposed to be a scum villain but its fascinating to speculate.

In a way Binghe is weird he thinks more in terms of a modern person I guess in a meta way? Because... He isn't special .It always strikes me as funny that LBH apparently like, idk, despite also being native to the culture is upset by it? as if he wanted more from specifically from SQQ? bc he wanted SQQ to find him special? meta hand-of-god type stuff where LBH accidentally has a more modern attitude bc of the way he was written?

Hell, his 300 wives scream self-enforced heterosexuality. like some DEEP repression and distraction.Ur telling me this guy fought more powerful sect masters, demon lords, survived assassinations but the mean teacher deserved prolonged torment.

If only Shen jiu played up the role as a mother things wouldn't have escalated lol. Freud should study Binghe though cause damn his mother issues run deep. His father though he doesnt give a damn and is detached from him but when it comes about the jade pendant youre basically finished. feeling the hots for ssq was part of the mommy issues lbh had lmao

.

[multifandomslxt]

I’d love to know your take on the perks of dating a chubby!reader. Seventeen or NCT, it’s upto you!

I mean as a chubby girl I make a great heater, pillow, stress ball, gym weight, and taste tester 👅

I’m sure not everyone has a smutty outcome but I’m sure a few of the boys would love death by bosom. Jeonghans always cold and I’m pretty sure I could give jungwoo the softest squishiest cuddle he’s ever had haha

Nct 127 perks of dating a chubby! S/o

Taeil

Tits and tummy

He’s alllllll about the tits and tummy

Idgaf what anybody else says😭😭

Goes feral when you walk round the hose without a bra.

His hands always find a way to creep up under your shirt and play with your nipple

As for your tummy…

His personal pillow

Although if he were to choose between the two

It’s your tits😌

Doesn’t mean he shuns the tummy though

9 times outta 10 he gives you hickeys all over your tummy

Makes you wear crop tops every time he does it too.

“You’re so soft and comfortable”

Taeyong

Choke him with your thighs🧍🏿‍♀️

Loses it when you wear shorts

He gets to see your thighs double in size when you sit 😭

I’m sorry but he groans out loud at that some times😭😭

Pinches them when he thinks you’re being a tease

As we all know taeyong is a man (SHALALA)

As a result

In his eyes

Death by pussy is the best way to go

In other words…

SIT ON HIS FUCKING FACE!

He sucks the life outta you

Past

Present

And

Future

Also likes how rough and calloused his hands look next to your soft and plush thighs

Oooooo

He would loose it if you wore short tennis skirt but lemme stop😭😭✋🏿

Johnny

Okay okay hear me out

This is very specific

Yk when thick girlies wear body con dresses and they sit down

And you can see their tummy rolls?

Yup

That’s his calling

Your fucking tummy rolls AND your back rolls

I’ve said this before but when Mr.Suh is fucking you from the back

there are certain things that just make him want to fuck a baby into you😭

Another one of those being your back rolls

HE MAKES YOU ARCH MORE SO THAT THEY BECOME MORE PRONOUNCED 😭😭

I said what I said

And don’t let him catch sight of those stretch marks either 👀

Also we know this man has a size kink so if you just happen to be short and chubby….good luck with that😭😭

Yuta

Ma’am 😭

Chileeeeee

Yk exactly what this man will do to you😭

Anyways even though I believe Yuta would love EVERYTHING

I think is absolute favourite would be

Your love handles.

Why?

Not only because you skin is soft and supple there

But also because

When he’s fucking you and you’re trying to run away or escape

He knows that Holding on to your love handles tightly will keep you right here he needs you

Also likes how your tummy jiggles when the orgasm is too much😩

Doyoung

Unlike the previous ones his isn’t as horny💀

Baby like your cheeks

He just loves how plum they are🥹

He loves how he can squish them and how they puff up when you’re angry😭😭

So cute🫶🏿🫶🏿🫶🏿😭

Also Loves your chubby hands

Loves how they can barely wrap around his hard dick

Loves how you have to use both hands to pump him

And also loves how your cheeks puff up when your trying to swallow all his cum🧍🏿‍♀️

Ik I said his wasn’t gonna be horny but I lied😂

Jaehyun

Okay

Lemme see if I can explain this well

lie down on your back

lift both your legs up

don't spread them just lift them up and pull them to your chest

THAT!

THAT IS WHAT HE LOVES

more specifically

he loves the way your pussy is being squeezed between your thighs

he would call it a sweet treat

because this man eats pussy like he's been starved.

Jungwoo

Anon you couldn't have been more on point.

Although I believe Jungwoo is horny 24/7 lmaooooo

His favorite thing about you would be the cuddles.

Especially when he's sad or tired he just likes to be spooned

imagine this big baby curling up next to you

OMG

OMG

He would definitely leave light kisses on your tummy

AJFJHWEIKJDSBVINJEKLHDGVESK,S;DFJP

I'm devastated

Mark

STRETCH MARKS

And if you think I'm wrong

argue with yo mama, not me.

Don't get me wrong Johnny would break your back in if he saw your stretch marks

But mark?

Mark?

Mark is gonna have you trying to push him off you.

Like you are literally going to try and run tf awayyyyyyy

Stretch marks are necessary for his survival.

Can and will fuck you just because you showed him how some of your stretch marks are darker than others

OML this is so dirty and specific but hear me out

He uses his cum to trace some of your stretch marks😭😭😭

Haechan

Loves how you look in his clothes

Especially his basketball shorts

One time he spilled something on your bottoms and he offered you his basketball shorts to change into

It's loose on him but when you put it on it looked skin tight

THE MAN WENT FERAL

because why is your ass so pronounced in a pair of basketball shorts???

long story short that pair of shorts now has a hole in the crotch

don't ask why

yk exactly why

HE FUCKED YOU

[vidavalor]

Hi @vidavalor I just finished reading Crepes. You've convinced me. My only question is why did Aziraphale have to do the apology dance in 1793 if they had such a good time then?

Thank you for reading! Glad you liked it. There are sugar cookies tonight. *sets you up a plate* TWs: SA, PTSD

Aziraphale unintentionally triggered Crowley's trauma in that scene. Crowley and Aziraphale are both supernatural beings who were not in danger in the 1793 scene but what they didn't factor in when planning this little game is that Jean-Claude the Executioner was an independent variable. Crowley came into the room to see a scene suggesting that Jean-Claude was trying to sexually assault Aziraphale and, while Aziraphale being magical meant that he was not in danger of being overpowered, Aziraphale's response was also pretty fitting with anybody in that position, which is to say that he was more shocked than anything else. It shows how sometimes it doesn't matter how much objective power you might seem to have in a situation, the shock and horror of it can make you feel powerless. Crowley froze Jean-Claude the moment he came into the room but he also came into Aziraphale saying "no" and being touched against his will by this creep of a guy, which wasn't fun for Aziraphale but it wasn't great for Crowley, either, as he's a survivor of this kind of thing.

While Crowley plays along, what happened is present underneath the scene and then resurfaces more directly near the end when Crowley puts Jean-Claude into Aziraphale's clothes and renders him unable to fully speak, just to make sounds of protest, before letting the other guards drag him to the guillotine. Jean-Claude is the only human in the series that we've ever seen Crowley just send straight to Hell, basically. Murdering, rapey bastard who touched Aziraphale? Satan can have him and right now, before he hurts anyone else. Crowley even gave The Nazis the chance to run in the church in 1941, showing just how much he tries not to harm anyone, but he was so (understandably) bothered by Jean-Claude that he actively made sure he got some karmic payback.

The apology dance that Aziraphale did in 1793 was a verbal apology afterwards. I'm sure the apology dance is mostly verbal. Crowley giving it a literal dance while doing a verbal dance in S2 was a joke on their language of literal things and symbolic meaning beneath it. What Aziraphale had really asked for was the little verbal dance they do when they apologize to one another and Crowley added the literal dance to it. Crowley shows in the same moment as he sends Jean-Claude to his death that he doesn't want to dwell on it if they can help it, as he moves onto "what's for lunch?", but Aziraphale apologized and got him to talk about it afterwards, which is what is alluded to in it being one of the times Aziraphale lists having done the "'I was wrong' dance."

You could also make an argument that it's why Aziraphale chose Paris, 1793 in 2008 in the first place. It's a given that they've had plenty of delicious crepes since the days of The French Revolution, yes? But it's doubtful they've found themselves in a situation like one that happened with Jean-Claude since. In 2008, they haven't been able yet to speak really freely when they agree to go to lunch but Aziraphale knows what happened the previous night, in terms of Crowley having been tasked with delivering the antichrist, etc.. He knows Satan made an appearance. He chose Paris, 1793 as a way of referring to a time when Crowley had been badly triggered but he and Aziraphale talked about it and they were okay as a way of expressing in 2008 that it's important to him that they communicate like they did in Paris.

[a-gilded-imprisonment]

When Aventurine comes back to the Reverie late at night, he receives a present. There's a bouquet of blue hydrangeas, lilies and forget-me-nots in front of the door to his room. He receives a text from an unknown source. There's no way to track the sender, even with the IPC's technology. The message says:

You didn't notice, but I've been watching you for months. Only now I'm bit by bit starting to see under the surface. Your act is slowly breaking. There are cracks on your fake mask. How long can you keep it up? The truth is becoming visible to me, soon it'll be everyone around you. Be careful, gambler. You're begining to lose your game.

Ever since your arrival on Penacony, how many times have you been vulnerable in front of somebody else. Beautiful toys don't cry, have you forgotten what you've been taught so painstakingly? At the end of the day, you're not only an aventurine stone, are you?

You can't know my identity yet, but when your luck runs out and you finally lose, I'll find you. I'll be the last defense you have and the strongest one too. I hope the day is never going to come, but we both know it's close. How much longer can you last, beautiful peacock? You're not on your own. I'll be your guard.

If my findings are wrong, forget about this message.

- 👑

(NOT an anon signoff pls, don't add it)

*The blonde picks up the bouquet with sparkling eyes, smelling the fresh flowers. They're so, so pretty-- he wishes for a moment that it's Veritas who left them for him, but snaps himself out of his fantasy quite quickly. It's impossible the scholar could ever be so attentive, to somebody like him nonetheless.*

*As he contemplates how in the cosmos anybody could have known the names of his favourite flowers, his phone goes off. How strange-- he isn't expecting a follow-up from Topaz until tomorrow morning. Perhaps she's early?*

*Aventurine sighs, picking up his cellphone and unlocking it swiftly. A single notification lies in wait-- and the user cannot be indentified. The message is quite long... The gambler starts to doubt it was intended for his eyes, but the longer he reads, the more unsettled he becomes.*

*Someone is watching him? Someone who refuses to introduce themselves until his last moment? Mysterious, and a tad morbid-- he's sure he would have noticed somebody around...*

*Who is this person to judge his vulnerability? If they've noticed such things, they must have indeed been watching him closely... And yet he can't recall any of his acquaintances having this sort of tone.*

*'Beautiful toys don't cry'--The words are like a slap to the face, and the following question taunts him. Of course he hasn't forgotten-- the ink-black mark seared into the marred skin of his neck can't let him escape those awful memories even for a moment.*

*Several emotions stir inside the Avgin, and he's not sure whether to be fearful or outraged. He quickly redacts a response, his fingers trembling as he sends the message.*

Aventurine: Who are you and what do you want with me?

⚠️Your message has failed to send.

Aventurine: Is this someone's idea of a sick joke?

⚠️Your message has failed to send.

Aventurine: How do you know so much about me..?

⚠️The person you are attempting to contact is unavailable.

Aventurine: If you aren't lying...

Aventurine: I want your help

*The blonde inhales, thinking his next words over.*

Aventurine: I need it

Aventurine: If you really aren't messing with me, meet me in Dream's Edge at sundown tomorrow

⚠️Your message has failed to send.

*The gambler swipes away from the messages, the hot tears streaming down his cheeks going almost unnoticed as he opens his contact list and calls Ratio before he can think better of it.*

*He presses his back against the wall, sinking down to rest against the floor with a shaky breath as he listens desperately to the dial tone.*

Pick up, doc. Come on.

[blorbologist]

Just wanted to be brave like you

Gen | 1.7k | Perc’ahlia and little Vesper | Modern AU | Just fuckin sad

Cross-posted to AO3

--

She’d warned him.

Vex had taken her husband aside when it became clear this film was on the agenda for the day. “Percy, darling,” she’d said, all filed edges and feather soft, “you don’t have to-”

“I do,” he’d insisted just as gently. “I’m not missing out on time with the women of my life because of a movie. Not an obligation, but a pleasure.” Then, wry: “Besides, we’ve both seen worse. Been through worse. The reviews are great, Keyleth has recommended it for as long as I can remember. Now is as good a time as any.”

“Are you sure?” And she’d pulled back to scrutinize him. Vex’ahlia is and always has been very good at that. There are no lies in him for her to find, though he suspected that’s not what she was looking for. “Percy, it made Vax sob the first time we watched it after our mother-”

She fell short of words, so he went the extra mile to find some for her: “I know, I know, dear. But it’s Vax. He’s like that. It’s a silly movie, and I have you both to protect me. It’ll be fine. Please?”

“Alright, darling. If you’re sure.”

She’d warned him, and he hadn’t listened.

Percy buries his face in Vex’s shoulder, waits for the music to pick up a little louder, and uses all this to cover a pathetic, wet sniffle.

Peeking through his lashes, it does not seem like Vesper noticed, too enraptured by the television screen. 

She clutches her stuffie to her chest with a gasp. The dusty scene glides slowly over the still golden form of a magnificent beast.

“Dad?”

Vesper mouths no - he thinks, because his eyes are burning and he really can’t look a second longer. Percival de Rolo has another embarrassing, probably snotty sniffle in his wife’s (his, but she’s stolen it) sweater. 

Why the fuck is he, a grown man, getting weepy over animated lions?!

Bless his wife - no I told you so, just a calloused hand running through his hair, over and over.

“Dad, c’mon,” begs Simba - he thinks it’s named Simba, “you gotta get up. We’ve got to go home.” 

And fool that he is he looks up just in time to see the cub tug at his father’s ear - oh gods, just like at the beginning of the movie when he woke him up for the patrol - and the horror, the realization -

Percival does not say fuck because he is the father of a five-year-old. He comes close, though, because even a vehement “Fudge,” is wholly incapable of conveying how truly wretched he feels. 

He knew the stupid lion was going to die. The film is just about as old as he is, and Vex had warned him repeatedly. For all that he never watched these movies growing up, Percy was not found under a rock either - everyone knows Mufasa dies.

It’s just something else, to be presented with the desperate loneliness again. This can’t be happening. He can’t be gone, they can’t be gone. Help - somebody, anybody, help. (And no one did.)

“Percy?” Vex murmurs, and he can hardly hear her beyond the raspy breathing. His raspy breathing. Oh dear. 

“‘m coping,” he gets out.

They both freeze when Vesper starts whimpering. Percy just has time to see her cheeks become tantrum-red before she bubbles into hiccups.

“Vesper, sweetheart - what’s wrong?” 

The words are a trigger - springloaded, she spins around to bury her face in Percy’s chest with a sob that breaks his darned heart. “I don’t want you to go-” she sobs, and that heart crumbles to dust in tiny hands when she takes fistfulls of his shirt. 

“Dear,” and he’s so watery, he doesn’t want his baby to see him like this, surely it’ll make it worse, “I’m not going anywhere-”

“He promised! Papa, he promised!” He gets a shaking hand to the nape of her neck, rubbing soothing circles that do little to make him feel better. They don’t seem to help Vesper, either, who clings tighter. She also makes a very obvious smear of snot, which, really, is enough to get a choked laugh from him. 

Vex might have paused the television - Percy can’t be sure, when she shuffles around to hug them both. “Vesper - little Whisper,” Vex whispers, barely beyond tears herself, “what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want Daddy,” she sobs, “and - and you, and me, and - and-”

Vex’s free hand takes up running through as much of Vesper’s hair as she can. It usually works on her just as well as it does Percy - instead their little girl jerks back, almost offended her mother thinks she can soothe this new pain. 

“He’s alone! His - his Papa’s dead and he’s alone and he promised-”

“It’s just a movie,” Percy warbles. Takes a moment to sound less devastated than his child. She needs him. “Vesper, darling, it’s okay. There are no stampedes here, no evil lions. We’re not going anywhere - I promise, I give you my word.”

He can’t promise that. 

He knows better than anyone, anyone at all. There’s worse than wildebeest, worse than evil uncles. Long live the king, death to the de Rolos, there’s little difference. 

But he’s a father, now, he’s Vesper’s father, and if this is her reaction to the understanding that he could die - that he could be gone - he will build every bulwark, every defense against her ever experiencing this heartbreak as he has. Fuck tragedy, age, accidents - he won’t leave his family. He won’t. Death will have to face him, and he’s got good odds that death will lose.

Death had won back then, though, which makes him clutch Vesper tighter.

One day. But he will fight for each one he has with them. And knows well Vex will do the same.

It goes around like that - the DVD player faintly whirring in protest, here and there, as Vesper keeps repeating the tragedy in her mind, as Vex and Percy keep trying to soothe her of it. 

Vex shoulders most of it. Percy is still in much of a state himself, to his shame. Bouts of comfort before he needs to take some for himself: Vesper’s hazel eyes made dark grey by the film of tears, or his grief-rough voice sounding like his father’s to his ears. 

It’s not fair to Vex, to be juggling the both of them. He hates this, badly, but struggling to keep his breathing even just makes it buck his control and throw him into more crying.

He has a family, now. Vex and Vesper and Cass and Vax and Keyleth and Velora and those bound to him by no law but forces greater than them. No one here is alone, and never will be again.

“Daddy, you’re sad.”

Well, so much for hiding it. Percy cannot exactly wipe away the tears regardless - hands full and all, and unlike his progeny he is not going to wipe snot on his shirt. “I guess I am,” he admits. 

“You -” Vesper has to pause to work through the words - stuck somewhere in her throat, he thinks, maybe wiggling in her mouth like a frog, he knows the feeling. “You don’t-”

He leans into Vex’s touch. An anchor for the wave he knows is coming. He takes the time he can to measure his breathing before Vesper says, “I - Daddy, you don’t have a daddy.”

“No - no, sweetheart, I don’t.”

(He doesn’t include the list, the tombstone-script of names. He’s lost so much more than his father, but he supposes that’s a good place to start. Let alone Vex’s mother. One at a time, or he’ll break again and break worse and Vesper doesn’t need that.)

Vesper looks up at him with streaming eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa.” She squeezes him with all her might - which is considerable, to him. So much love to give and with no remorse. Those perfect little brows - more Vex’s than his - furrow something fierce, and she struggles just free enough of his hold to offer her stuffy. Who is also covered in snot. “’m sorry. Will - will Bauble make it better?”

And oh, fuck, he isn’t ready for that. 

“Thank you, dear,” he says solemnly. “Yes - yes, Bauble makes it better.”

He lets Vesper press the owlbear (it was supposed to be a bear, but - Velora, dear, that’s a beak) to his chest, where his heart struggles to pet it. 

“I love you, Papa.”

She says it often. More than daily, more times than he can count - and he has tried, diligently, to count and treasure each one.

This one makes his face melt into something awful, and Vesper looks so worried, so scared, and it’s because of the stupid animated lions - 

He must have made a gods-awful sound, this time, because there’s a racket of tags and claws on the hardwood as a brown blur bounds over from the kitchen and launches himself at the couch. 

Which he’s not supposed to be on, strictly speaking, but who could keep Vax from encouraging the habit? And who would dare fault him now when all the de Rolos shriek. 

“Trinket,” Vex scolds, hardly scolding at all. “Down, buddy!” 

He just wuffles and noses Vesper’s ear until she wails with giggles, shoving her open palms at their dog. Those get licked too.

It’s very hard to cry when a huge fluffy dog is whining at you for every whimper and licking at your mouth until they turn into laughs.

Percy will be sure to sneak him a little ham, later. 

“Tell you what,” says Vex, in his ear. Vesper wiggles to look up at her, too. What must their daughter see? Vex is too close and his eyes too damp to make out much of her beyond redder than normal and shaky. What a portrait, what a distressing sight. “You remember what the daddy lion -”

Sniffle. “Mufasa, Mama.”

She smiles. “- what Mufasa said earlier? About the great kings of the past?” Trinket’s collar rustles when Vex ruffles his soft ears. “Later tonight, after supper, we can go look at the stars, and… talk to them. Would you like that, darling?”

Percy is fairly sure she means Vesper. But when their daughter pinches her eyes shut - overwhelmed? To think? - she’s looking at him with eyes he’d surrender his fears to. 

Would he like that?

“Yes, Mummy,” Vesper burbles, with a final rub of her fist to her nose. She then pats Percy’s arm, snot and all. “Can - can we keep watching the movie, Papa?”

“It gets scary,” Vex warns gently. A glance at the screen confirms that Scar looms, some shadows in the dust behind him. “If it’s too much, just tell us and we can stop, alright darling?”

“Trinket will protect you,” Percy adds quietly. The thump of a stubby tail seconds that.

Vesper nods so bravely. “Alright.”

Dutifully, Vex - the only one with a free arm to reach the remote, and with the least gross hands - presses play, and soon enough the thrilling music and fast-paced chase have Vesper distracted again. Even Trinket watches, with his old eyes, laying his head on her little lap.

Percy brands a kiss to Vex’s brow. As hard as he dares.

She hugs him a touch too tight. It’s a promise.

[nauticallyhypnotical]

Shane-anigans (untitled)

mdni, 18+ only yada yada

check out my ao3!

No matter how hard Shane tried to shoo you away with a cold demeanor and obscenities, you just couldn’t leave the man alone. Ever since your first encounter, when he lovingly told you to “fuck off”, you made it your mission to be sickeningly sweet to him. You thought maybe if he were shown kindness and had a shoulder to lean on besides his aunt and goddaughter, he might drop his facade of being so callous. You knew he had a sweet spot; you see it in the way his eyes light up for just a moment when you present him with his favorite snack, grumbling his thanks as the cutest blush dusts over his cheeks. You weren’t sure when exactly you fell for him, but you’ve known you cared about him a bit more than anybody else in the town for quite some time. It was your big heart and loving nature that made you sure that although he had a sweet spot, he hated you.

You could tell ever since that night you found him passed out on the docks in Cindersap Forest. He had drunk himself stupid, and when you began to panic when he couldn’t stop vomiting and could barely stay awake, he gathered what little coherency he could muster to beg you not to call Marnie. But how could you not? Shane was much bigger than you, and you couldn’t get him to Doctor Harvey on your own. Marnie has one of the few vehicles in town, and deserved to know what was going on with her nephew. You could sense the tension in the hospital room when he awoke to find her glaring at him with tears in her eyes.

“Shane, I love you. But you need to get your shit together, not just for my sake, but for Jas. She doesn’t need to lose her parents and you,” Marnie cried, and Shane couldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he looked at you with the nastiest mug you’ve ever seen. If looks could kill, he just shot you straight in the heart. It was a look of betrayal, layered with rage. He knew Marnie was right, which was why he begged you not to tell her. He hated that now he was forced to face the truth he was running from, that his alcoholism had been long out of hand. He hated you for it.

“I should go,” you squeaked out, turning on your heels and all but running out of the clinic for your farm. It was a while after that before you saw Shane again, and he just ignored you. It was worse than when you first moved here, you almost wished he would curse at you, anything to hear his voice. So, when you saw him at that year’s flower dance, you decided to corner him and beg him to talk to you. You found him by the punch bowl, nursing a cup of fruit juice. He scowled at you when he saw you approaching, but otherwise he kept your gaze. He raised his cup to his lips and downed the rest of his drink, tossing it in the garbage afterwards. He stuffed his now free hands into his pockets, keeping his dark green eyes locked on yours.

“Shane, I --”

“I don’t remember much from that night, but I distinctly remember asking you not to call her. Why do you always have to meddle?” Shane interrupted her, his voice deep and low.

“Marnie worries enough about me as it is, and I don’t appreciate you making it worse,” He said, words laced with venom. Suddenly you forgot why you came here in the first place, swallowing your apology in place of anger. Seriously, what else did he expect you to do?

“What else did you want from me, Shane? Did you want me to leave you there to choke on your own vomit, or did you want me to carry you on my back all the way to the clinic?” You asked him, crossing your arms in disbelief. You don’t understand why he has to be such a stubborn ass. He finally looks away from you as he turns to walk away.

“Forget this stupid dance, I’m leaving,” he grumbled. Against your better judgement, you followed him. You couldn’t see him roll his eyes when he heard your footsteps behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. He couldn’t see you flip the bird at the back of his head. You tried really, really hard to be nice, but sometimes he just pushed your buttons. Quite frankly, you were feeling pretty tired of Shane running away from the hard conversations.

“You want to know why I meddle, you dumb jerk? It’s because I care about you, but you don’t even care! You should be thankful I was even there that night!” You called after him. The two of you reached the front of Marnie’s ranch, and finally Shane turned to face you.

“I do care, you just don’t understand how hard it is for me when I already feel as bad as it is,” his voice was softer now, and you almost forget why you were mad in the first place.

“Shane, you have people in your life that love you, and want to help you and see you get better. You don’t have to face this alone,” You reached a hand out on his shoulder, and he moved closer to you.

“And do you? Love me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you lower your gaze to his lips. You can tell he hasn’t shaved in a few days, his beard growing scruffy and thick. You bit your lower lip, eyes glancing back upwards. He was watching your every move. You nodded, moving the hand on his shoulder to his neck. His hands find your waist and he dips his head low so his lips graze your ear.

“Say it,” he urges, something about his husky voice pleading with you gets your heart racing and a heat spreading throughout your core.

“I love you, Shane,” you say, guiding his mouth to yours. He hungrily accepts your kisses, drinking them in like a parched man from the desert. He walks you backwards until your back hits the wooden fence. His rough fingers dig into your fleshy hips, and he drags his tongue along your lower lip. You let out a shaky breath as you part your lips and accept him into your mouth. Your hands find their way into his wavy black hair as your tongue rubs up against his, and he lets out a low moan as your fingers begin to wrap around his silky locks. He pulls away from you and begins to press wet, open kisses on your neck. The stubble of his beard scratching and tickling you, it sends a shudder down your spine and causes goosebumps to prick at your skin.

“I am thankful, you know,” he almost whispers against your neck. You almost can’t think straight, the heat in your belly making the world around you start to spin. Shane peppers kisses along your jaw before giving you another peck on the lips.

“I am thankful for everything you do for me. For my family,” He says.

“I was a jerk to you, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry,” he stops now and is looking at you, awaiting your response. It’s as if he’s holding his breath in anticipation.

“I forgive you, Shane. I love you,” your eyes begin to well up with tears, and Shane pulls you in for a hug. You’re rubbing your fingers on his back when you feel his erection pressing against your thigh. It hasn’t been that long since the two of you left the festival, so no one should be coming around to interrupt any time soon. That was how you justified sneaking your hand around and pawing at him through his trousers, the warmth between your legs becoming almost unbearable as he pumps his hips against you.

“Turn around,” he growls suddenly, pulling away from you. You do as you’re told, grabbing onto the fence for support as he lifts the tulle skirt of your dress up over your hips. You wore a lacy white thong today to match your dress for the festival, and Shane was practically drooling at the sight. A warm shudder went up your body as he inhaled your scent, his hot breath hovering directly over your heat. He pulled your thong to the side and licked your entire slit like an ice cream cone. You gasped when he then stuck his tongue into your hole, fully tasting your juices. He replaces his tongue with his middle two fingers, sucking at your clit as he pumps in and out of you. Your legs tremble and you moan as you cum without warning on his face. Shane drinks in your climax like he’ll die without it, spreading your thighs wide so he can lap it all up.

“Think you can take me, baby?” He’s up at your ear again, one hand undoing your hairstyle for the dance and intertwining his fingers with the locks and the other lining himself up against your entrance. You whine and nod, arching your back against him.

“Please, fuck me!” You’re practically begging at this point, and Shane chuckles at your enthusiasm as he slowly inches inside you. You whimper as you stretch around him, spreading your legs wide to allow him easier access. He grunts as he bottoms out inside you, hissing about the tightness. Your slick allows him to easily slide back out of you, and soon enough he’s rutting against you as he finds his rhythm. He brings a hand up to your face and presses his thumb against your lips. You open your mouth and let him in, sucking on him gently.

“You’re such a good girl, taking my cock. Can you cum again for me, baby?” He asks, pulling his thumb out to allow you to answer.

“I don’t know if I can,” you pant. Shane brings his hand down and fondles your breast.

“Yes, you can. I’ll get you there,” he promises. He releases your hair and sneaks down to rub your clit, and you melt into his touch. He wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, rubbing slow circles against your bud as he slowly thrusts into you. You felt it coming this time, building up inside you like a wave ready to come crashing down. You’re moaning out his name with your release, and his humping speeds up, his own end coming quick.

“Where can I come, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Inside,” you moan. With a few more pumps, he’s spent, and he’s unloading his cream deep within you. You can hear the chatter of the town get closer and you’re pulling yourself together, getting ready to take off for your farm. You don’t need the whole town seeing you freshly railed right now.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Shane,” you say, giving him a peck on the lips. He looks at you with adoration, and for the first time in a long time, he’s hopeful for the future.

"I love you," he says, and off you go.

[fungus-no69]

I know Cain is trying not to be in a relationship with Sydney till everything settles but how would he react to a corrupt!Sydney?

cw: a lot of anxiety and guilt, sexual trauma and responses, silly mentions of sex toys at the end

Not well!

Since Cain's so set on protecting Sydney from people who try to hurt them he'd probably immediately feel guilty for 'letting' Sydney fall victim to the other people of the town- even though he probably has very little; if any relation to the corruption. There's also his concern that Sydney may become 'like them' (other civilians) which he's very ashamed over and won't acknowledge.

He'd probably worry himself to a stomach ulcer because he's agonising over what happened so much, but at the end of the day- Corrupt Sydney is still Sydney. A bit more fucked up and manipulative sure but Sydney.

Not gonna lie- Cain would totally fall for Sydney's lies and shit even if he's meant to see through it for the first few times (even light hearted ones like the handcuff scene in sirrus' shop). He can't help it okay :[. He's not stupid but he's... kind of gullible when it comes to his (very few) friends and trusts Sydney more than anybody else in rapechestershire. I'm mentioning this because of Sydney's whole 'you made me like this' thing they seem to have. And yes, I know it's the pc's fault but shut your goddamn mouth I'm hijacking this bus.

He'd also become a bit more paranoid(??) around Sydney because hell if Sydney lies to him once then what's saying they won't do it again?? And there's also his very very present sexual trauma and repulsion so god forbid Sydney makes ANY kind of advances on him because he will freak out and quite possibly run away only to return days later. If that doesn't happen because he physically can't run away for whatever reason he might cry.

Regardless, it'd cause a massive rift in their relationship despite their best efforts due to Cain's own self-inflicted alienation and such. It could be fixed but it'd take a lot of time and negotiation. And communication. Which Cain happens to be terrible at.

It sucks but he'd have to be fucking 30 years out of dolville and with an ungodly amount of therapy sessions under his metaphorical belt before he can begin to stomach corrupt Sydney.

on a funnier note because I don't want to end this post sadly, it'd lead to interactions that basically go like:

Sydney: (holding anal beads and obviously teasing) hey Cain, what's this

Cain: ????? i don't ffucking. know???? that shit you put on christmas trees??????? (ball garlands)

[swanqueensalad]

i’m not sure if you’ve already done something similar but i was wondering if you had any hc for regina’s relationship with clothes? i just feel like there’s so much to dig into with all her mother’s bullshit and how she was raised to value appearances, how performative a lot of her outfits were as the evil queen, the shift in how she dresses after the curse breaks, her and emma’s opposite approaches to how they dress themselves. idk i just feel like if anybody else would also have thoughts on this, it would be you

anon i am literally in love with you for sending me this ask. honestly why have i never done a post on this before!!! this is SO interesting to me!! clothing is definitely a hugely important part of regina's character and journey over the course of the show.

PSA: this turned into a literal play by play biography of regina's life through clothing. ur welcome. also this is totally unedited, we die like men

I think clothing means a lot of different things to Regina. I think she both revels in and resents the glitz and glamour, uses it as her shield, weaponry and armour but also it can be very vulnerable for her... it's a lot

and I agree that, unfortunately like many things with Regina, we have to start by tracking back to her childhood and how Cora raised her

Regina is a young noblewoman in the enchanted forest, and much of her 'value' to her family would lie in making an advantageous marriage. Layer on top of that Cora's absolute single minded determination for success, social climbing and for Regina to become queen one day and you just KNOW appearances were a huge deal when Regina was growing up (we see this threaded through canon too, in Cora magically changing Regina's clothes/hair/makeup for her)

to Cora, Regina's beauty was always a valuable tool she could use, but her brutal ambition would have led to absolute perfectionism.

After all, sweetheart, queens have to be perfect.

I think even when Regina was a very young child, a huge amount of weight was put onto her clothing and how she was presented.

I can imagine Cora choosing elaborate outfits for her infant daughter, dressing her up like a doll and making sure the ribbons in her hair matched exactly, being absolutely critical of everything to ensure her child was the best dressed, the most perfect

And I think this hugely impacted Regina's childhood. Cora would have allowed Regina very little freedom, partially because she was conditioning her to behave like a queen (or just like an obedient pawn for her to do whatever she wanted with) but also partially because Regina literally could not risk getting messy or dirty.

Image is everything, darling.

As child, Regina couldn't really play because she would ruin her dress, or her hair, or scuff her shoes. She had no choice but to occupy herself with the 'proper' pursuits that her mother approved of, because she physically couldn't do anything else. No running, tree climbing, flower picking etc for tiny Regina. Lots of sitting quietly and looking pretty, even as a child.

I can definitely see Cora showing Regina off from an early age, dressing her up like a doll, inviting other noblewomen for tea and dressing Regina better than any of their children, making her sit nicely and quietly.

If Regina were to be 'bad' and accidently dirty her dresses, mess up her hair etc. I think Cora would definitely punish her quite severely. because from day one, Cora was drilling into Regina that her appearance was one of the most valuable and worthwhile things about her. Queens have to be perfect.

And of course, little Regina doesn't want to be a queen, she just wants to go play in the meadow with the other children, but she wants to be a good girl more than anything, because mother hurts her when she's not.

As Regina grows older, I think Cora becomes far more critical of her appearance. A doll like, cute child is far easier to keep 'perfect' than an adolescent girl, and it's also all a huge control tactic for Cora to keep Regina affection starved and desperate to please her. So there would be backhanded comments, the constant pressure to be more beautiful. The feeling started to grow in Regina that she was pretty, just not pretty enough, never enough.

Ik I've talked about this before here (TW for EDs) but I headcanon Cora as absolutely fucking up a young Regina's body image and relationship with food too, controlling/restricting her diet. So I can imagine that dress fittings became a source of enormous stress and pain for an adolescent and teenage Regina.

In the enchanted forest, as a noble, all of Regina's clothes were likely hand made from expensive fabrics. Cora would spare no expense for making her daughter the most fashionable, beautiful, ideal young lady. So there was enormous pressure on Regina to 'wear the clothes well' and to keep them pristine. But these fittings would have been hell, because Cora definitely was stood in the corner, never ever asking Regina's opinions or how she feels in the clothes, but only ever criticizing the fit, asking if her corset could be laced tighter, and despairing over tiny mistakes.

Despite all this though, I do think a young Regina enjoyed clothing and fashion in a way. As much as her mother made it absolute hell, Regina really did like the few dresses she was allowed to have a say in and I think she always liked pretty things, she just wished she was allowed to like them on her own terms.

I think the white dress we see her wearing in a lot of her early EF flashbacks was one of her favourites because it's pretty but also simple and comfortable, something she would have chosen herself and just luckily happened to be considered suitable by her mother.

I've written about it in this fic but I also think Cora would have been actively sexualising Regina from a young age, trying to make her as appealing to suitors and other noblemen as possible to get more power and advantage. This would make Regina very uncomfortable, and I think at this point she really resented all this elaborate clothing and heavy jewelry.

There's also something really interesting in canon ouat costume design I want to discuss because I've never seen it discussed before: in 2x015 The Queen Is Dead, we get a glimpse of the fashions in Leopold's kingdom around the time Regina and Snow were about to meet for the first time. We see Queen Eva, clearly an empowered adult woman, wearing a tightly fitting deep red dress covered in jewels. Meanwhile the ten (ish?) year old Snow White wears a more appropriately girlish frock with puffy sleeves, a simple bodice and full skirts. Around this time, we mostly see Regina dressed in the latter style, implying she is still being dressed and presented more as a young lady/maiden than an adult. The blue dress Cora puts her in to meet King Leopold is a very similar design to Snow's, with full sleeves and skirt; her riding coats are also loose and puffy sleveed; the dress she wears at dinner when married to Leopold is full sleeved and skirted too; the white dress we see her in several times is the exception, but looser still than Eva's style.

I believe the earliest we see Regina in that adult style dress is in Fruit of the Poisonous Tree, when she's years into her marriage and about to kill her husband and seize power. This is a moment of empowerment for her shown through costume, and a clear shift she's gone from girl to woman, which is actually disgusting considering this is at the end of her marriage to the elderly king.

My point here is that I think throughout her marriage the world still saw Regina as a child to a degree, a poor replacement for Eva, and Regina was still very much a young woman, who did not feel any older or freer. Her marriage kept her trapped and unempowered, just like her mother had.

She always had to be beautiful and perfect, and this pressure was amped up even more as queen. I can see a newly married Regina trying so hard in the first few years to always be perfect, constructing elaborate outfits, hair and makeup just like Cora taught her, to try and be good enough for Leopold, to make him more kind to her, to make anyone at court notice her at all, but it never works. She is still only ever objectified or sidelined or both.

When she begins training with Rumple, we start to see Regina developing a new sense of style: she begins wearing darker colours, to mimic her mentor in a way. I think this is very indicative of her mental state, how easily influenced she was, how much she wanted to latch onto this one source of potential hope and power in her life.

But this was of course a transitional period, and I do think it's interesting that we see her in 1x11, seducing Sidney and killing her husband finally wearing one of the long, tight, elegant 'adult' dresses Eva wore as queen. This is when Regina really steps into her own power.

Once again to refer briefly to the same fic I think in the few years leading up to this (remember, as I love to remind everyone, her entire horrific marriage was probably around 8 years at least), Regina began to learn more of her seduction politics, and started to understand how she could manipulate the way men behaved towards her. She started to fully understand what her mother meant, how to choose a dress for the right situation, how to choose a neckline, a lipstick shade, a way of walking and talking.

I think this took her a while to stop feeling disgusted by. At some point, the rush of even this tiny way of grabbing power was exhilarating, long overdue. At some point, that stopped making her skin crawl.

Starting to wear darker colours was I think a way of rebelling against her past self. I really think throughout her reign as the 'evil queen', Regina had to loathe her younger, innocent self because that was the version of her that got hurt, used, raped, manipulated, brokenhearted. It was easier to hate that version of herself, to blame herself for being weak and stupid (Mother's voice in her head, always) than to fully feel the pain she was still in. So the pastels and whites of her youth were completely gone. She buried them, and the girl who loved them, as far as she could.

It also seems like pastels were commonplace in the Enchanted Forest based on every extra in every ballroom scene ever, and at this point Regina was so reliant on her attractiveness as a form of power that wearing dark colours and deep jewel tones was a way to ensure she always stood out, always caught the eye.

As her reign grew, I think the Evil Queen costumes grew more and more extravagant as a show of wealth and power to dazzle the commoners and intimidate all the nobles. Regina was showing them with her style choices that she was in a league of her own. And the more she leaned into it, the glitz and glamour, all the diamonds and makeup, the things she hated as a young girl, the safer she feels. The more hidden. The more superhuman.

The Evil Queen was a physical symbol as well as an idea of who Regina was. I think of it almost like how celebrities have public persona, sexualised and stylised, instantly recognisable and fastidiously designed. I think this made Regina, a physically small woman, much smaller than all the other older, male leaders and rulers, feel protected, confident and powerful.

(I think it's also a defense against the fact that as a very young girl Regina was sexualised by her own mother for a much older man, for his whole court I suppose. Regina has always been taught, through her mother's words and actions, that her beauty and attractiveness correlate to her worth, power and usefulness. And now she sort of enacts that on herself to keep herself safe. Because they can't sexualise her if she's sexualised herself first, they can't be using her if she's letting them and using their lust for her to her own ends. Her beauty keeps her safe. Queens have to be perfect, Regina.)

When we get to Storybrooke, I think it translates somewhat. In this world, political figures are the power symbols, and unfortunately in this world too, female politicians are more successful if they are polished and beautiful. Or so Regina would see it.

Queens have to be perfect, sweetheart.

She upkeeps the Evil Queen thing where she has a recognisable image, this polished perfect professional thing. Though this world is on a much smaller scale, Regina's mindset is not at all. She would never be seen out of the house without a perfect face of makeup, without perfectly done hair, manicured nails, the right outfit, the right shoes. Because queens have to be perfect. You can't show them a single crack in your armour.

It isn't all a chore though. I think Regina really does enjoy her own style, especially in Storybrooke as it is so different to anything Cora or Leopold would have had her wearing, and because it's part of a world she made for herself, there's more of a sense of independence and ownership of her own style. I think she has a really nice sense of routine in doing her makeup and hair, which is good for her too.

But still in Storybrooke, we see Regina using her attractiveness, using seduction as a often reached for tool in her arsenal.

And on the other hand we have Emma.

Now, this is a Regina post but the ask did specify and I do find it interesting and want to discuss, so I'll give a much briefer overview of my headcanons about Emma and her style.

Off the bat I'll say I consider 'Emma's style' as season 1 and 2 Emma. (I'm not going to analyse the straight-girl-style-ification of Emma Swan in the later seasons bc that's another story and also just Bad storytelling imo)

Skinny jeans, boots, tanks, plaid, leather jackets, beanies, baseball shirts. She's mostly casual, can be a bit edgy, a bit lesbian swagger, a bit teenage boy (at times). Sometimes she does a winged liner, sometimes nothing. And she dresses with nothing else in mind but what makes her feel confident and cool and herself.

Because Emma as a kid never really had the freedom to pick her own clothes. The homes got a lot of donations, and sometimes there were cool things she could grab a hold of if she managed to beat the older kids to it, but a lot of the time she was just in whatever hand me downs she could get. Not ideal for a young queer girl trying to work out her identity.

So when she started to establish a life for herself, the first time she buys her red leather jacket etc, these moments are really meaningful to Emma because it's more about being able to own her sense of self and stand on her own two feet in a stable way rather than just being about the clothes.

Which is so beautiful, because it just goes to show that once again Regina and Emma are complimentary opposites. Clothes were never important in Emma's life, so when she gets the chance, she just likes being able to wear whatever the fuck she wants, to never really worry about it, and to feel good. To Regina, clothes were always enormously important and so a great deal of thought and preparation goes into everything she wears.

I think it is interesting the way they interact in this case, because they are so different, and they both find the other one so hot, and I think they also both admire how different it is for the other.

Regina in denial would definitely consider Emma's casualness to be improper and lazy, but deep down, and eventually openly once they grow closer, she knows she admires her freedom and fearlessness.

Meanwhile Emma thinks Regina is the hottest woman on the planet (she's right) and appreciates how perfectly her gf puts outfits together, how good her makeup and skincare collection is.

But Emma can also see the other side of it for Regina too, is one of the few people (perhaps because of her own history with clothes) who can see the strain there. The control and obsession with her own appearance, the perfectionism.

And I think Emma is really good for her in that sense. Emma's own freedom and confidence is a good influence. Because gradually, as they get together and their relationship develops, Regina is able to let down a little more of that mask, bit by bit.

Letting Emma see her with wet hair, her natural curls straight out of the shower. Or in her robe with no makeup on in the mornings. And as they build their life together, Regina finds this immense relief in having someone who sees all of her in every state.

It's not as scary as it once seemed.

And Emma thinks Regina is just as beautiful in leggings and fresh faced as she is with makeup and an expensive dress. (Once again, she is right). This is groundbreaking to Regina, this idea that she can be loved and valued without upkeeping her definition of 'perfection'. That she could be enough as she is, for Emma.

That she is enough, as she is.

And of course, she doesn't always believe that. How can she, after the life she has lived? But she's working on it, and when these feelings of immense vulnerability and insecurity in herself arise, she is able to voice them to Emma (sometimes with a bit of struggle) and Emma holds space for her, listens without judgement, calls Cora a dumb bitch (sometimes) and assures Regina that she is the most beautiful person Emma's ever seen, but that her beauty is not why she fell in love with her, and it's not what makes her worthy.

And slowly, I think Regina starts to get back to finding more joy in fashion. More appreciation, in the way her younger self always wanted.

[theninthdoor]

https://theninthdoor.tumblr.com/post/721370039430807552/can-you-do-bad-sidesquestionnable-reading-for

I see you've done this! Tysm. May I please request the same of stray kids as well? Have a nice day!!

request: Stray Kids' questionable/bad sides again… before you read: make sure that you take everything with a grain of salt and put your common sense to good use! no human being is 100% angel; no one is perfect + some of these things we, ourselves, do or think of doing from time to time. still, if anyone is expecting idols to be some sort of perfect demi-gods, the internet might not be for you 💘 also, of course, i’m not claiming anything as facts. feel free to dismiss my interpretations, if you wish.

Bang Chan || knight of swords rx, the chariot: Domineering. Wants to lead + to feel the strongest, even if it requires some gaslighting. Lacks tact, at times. May miss some social cues without realizing. Uses rudeness as a way to mask his insecurities. Uses his career achievements as his whole identity.

Lee Know || the hermit, the world: Keeps too many secrets; really bad at communicating and being honest about his thoughts and opinions. Silence is always the solution for him, just not for everybody else. It's never him that has to change, but others; others must adapt to him, not him to them. A know-it-all, too.

Changbin || nine of wands rx, two of cups: He wants his friends/family/partners to have the exact same opinions and tastes as him. Plus, he can't stand feeling left out, so bet he's going to be jumping through hoops to be everywhere all time just so they don't have a chance to keep things from him - he must be present and informed, at all times! Changbin is also very paranoid and overprotective, has poor boundaries and may sometimes become quite co-dependent. He simply can't be alone for too long.

Hyunjin || knight of cups, justice: He knows how to sweet-talk someone to get whatever he wants. Hyunjin will become whoever you wish him to become in order to accomplish his own goals. He's well aware of his image + the of the power he holds over others, and he's not afraid of using it. Besides that, he also gets way too invested in things, even to the point of being completely unrealistic with his plans and expectations. Everyone is "the one" for him at least once.

Han || knight of cups, eight of wands rx: Loses interest very quickly; starts or buys things on a whim, but forgets about them overnight. In love with the idea of love, but doesn't feel like going through all of the hard work that relationships require. Often lets his emotions control him more than he controls them; definitely keeps his rose tinted glasses close by. But, again, soon he's onto the next thing (or person of interest)…

Felix || the hanged man rx, two of pentacles: He's never happy with what he has; always thinks others have it easier or better than him. Very impulsive; regrets his decision as soon as he makes them. Felix never learns… he'll make the same mistake a thousand times and still not understand what he's doing wrong. Keeps busy to avoid certain people/situations/issues.

Seungmin || four of pentacles, queen of wands: Greedy; what's his is his, and he's not going to share it with anybody. Way too proud. Likes attention and compliments a little too much. Materialistic; uses material things to get the attention/compliments that he's looking for.

I.N || the tower rx, nine of cups rx: Tends to sweep things under the rug instead of facing his issues properly. I.N's always expecting the worst, so quite often he might run away before the situation has had time to develop. Hates change more than anything - even good and necessary change! Might throw a big ol' tantrum every now and then.

(Disclaimer: All readings are alleged and for entertainment purposes only.)