#i get they are two different games but fashion/dress up is a core part of both of these games and being made by the same company it feels

[hologramken]

the more i play fashion dreamer the more i wish it lifted from style savvy in the actual fashion area/gameplay dress up. i wish we still had inners. there are a few tops i wish i could layer over a turtle neck/shirt. the organization of the closet being able to search by type, style, print, etc. customizing having more options with the patterns would be nice, but tbh i didnt make much custom shit. i feel like they are gonna add nails back in with the dlc since they seem modeled/too detailed and i would be sad if they didnt.

they could have also built up from style savvy too. with being able to layer necklaces or bracelets. they could add rings and we layer those too. thinking about it now a lot of jewel is tied to clothes which sucks so i doubt they would change that :/ i also wish they would add back in scarves, bags, gloves, etc. i was really hoping for some cute bags too. i really hope with the updates they add some of this in. at least bags and nails i really miss those.

i still really enjoy this game, but i wonder what the updates will bring/ what fashion dreamer 2 could look like

[asquared-ohgodnotthehorrors]

I have been infected with an idea and it needs to get out, so here’s my idea for a Pokémon Mystery Dungeon TTRPG campaign I wanna run someday. Also if any of y’all can recommend good systems to play Mystery Dungeon games in, lemme know please.

So, the name of it is “Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Plunderers of Lore.” It’s a pirate/sailor game, which for Mystery Dungeon is a fun route to take while also keeping things open for an RPG, and adds an easier way to make base building feel impactful.

The main idea is that instead of being explorers or a rescue team, the group for this Mystery Dungeon adventure is Treasure Hunters… slash cartographers slash salvagers, basically making the sea safer as long as it makes the crew richer. Mystery Dungeons on the ocean this campaign would take place on would have a high quantity of Mystery Dungeons, often popping up and disappearing out of nowhere. Islands, underwater biomes, and ruins happen, but where they most commonly appear are shipwrecks. The goal of the campaign is to find out why some of the PCs turned from humans into Pokemon (if any of them did), discover the mystery of this new expanse, and get rich!

There’s a small core crew I have in mind:

a Dewott captain that takes on the head of the team sort of role, just generally a good leader and nice guy, a simple approach to the whole “Wigglytuff” role.

A Houndoom first mate who takes on the “bully team”/“Chatot” role, perhaps with a lackey or two. However they’re more harsh than malicious, and are well intentioned enough but rarely show it, often contesting Dewott and the first to think of mutiny in a bad situation. Not the most trustworthy, but reliable if you’re sure he is. Also he’s a fire type and having a fire type second in command in the ocean is funny to me.

Next we have our Bidoof equivalent: a Pidove who desperately wishes to be a Pelipper delivery service Pokémon, but has taken and failed the examination several times each time for a different reason. The personality is self explanatory, with Pokémon I like to go tropey and typical rather than deviate from the formula too hard as that’s what Pokemon is at its core about.

Then a chill Swampert who lugs the boat (Pokédex), a Dhelmise most of the crew don’t really pay attention to who serves a sort of “Lapras” role of being a wise old sage and the oldest member of the crew having come with the ship, and a few other blanks I need to fill. I think having a Klefki lock picker would be fun but that may be better as a one off character not part of the crew than anything.

Now, the last and my favorite crew member is (taking a leaf out of Gates to Infinity, something you never want to hear) a Meloetta. She’s the waifish “along for the ride to life adventure vicariously because she’s too fragile for adventure,” while also being the navigator and morale of the crew. What with having bardic tendencies and being good in a sea shanty and all…

The thing is, she’s secretly this legend on the seas known as “Masquerade” while in her Dancer form, wielding a rapier and donning a fashionable mask. Think a Zoro or Dread Pirate Roberts type character, feared for her single handed plundering of entire ships (mostly through trickery, Sing is better in Mystery Dungeon typically). The joke here is that every NPC cannot see through her paper thin disguise, and I’m leaving it up to the PCs on whether or not they let themselves fall for it. So it can either be “OH MY GOD WHO IS COULD THIS MYSTERIOUS MASQUERADE BE!? ITS SUCH A MYSERY!!!! DUNGEON!!!” or it could be “Dude you have met this girl before that’s Meloetta” “we don’t know their gender” “SHE’S WEARING THE SAME DRESS!” “Dresses aren’t gendered.” And the fact it could potentially be both for the PCs is what’s most hilarious to me.

Now, here’s the fun part: this is just half of the campaign.

For as we resolve the first cut away scene of Masquerade taking a secret from a ship that learned too much, dancing across the waves into the night as we wrap up our first session… we won’t actually cut away from that ship. Not yet.

We’ll see a sleek silhouette, otherworldly flight landing upon the deck of the ship.

Metal on wood.

Glowing red eyes.

Amethyst carapace.

“This is Aqua, reporting to central command, target has vacated last known coordinates.”

“Affirmative. New objective: locate the target’s new coordinates. Observe from afar. Learn as much as possible and report back to base regularly. Understood?”

“It will be done.”

And as Genesect flies off into the night, we fade to black, and we see the title card. As it flashes, we see the alternate title of this story;

Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Plunderers of Fate.

[albertasunrise]

Just Another Conquest - Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: You were sweet, innocent and completely infatuated with Javier Peña. After an incident at the Christmas party, you become the talk of the secretary's at the embassy and everything starts falling around you.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader, Reader x Original Male Character

Warnings: Angst, Kissing, Mentions of sex

Notes: There are some touchy subjects at the end of this chapter. If you’re easily triggered this might not be for you. Don’t wanna add too many tags as it’ll spoil it.

For two years you had worked at the embassy as a secretary. You kept your head down and your nose out of trouble and so no one noticed you.

Except Greg.

Greg was sweet. You’d been on a few dates and you were taking it steady. Too many times you had jumped in headfirst into the flames and gotten burned so this time you were going to take things slow, Glacial, but Greg didn’t seem to mind. Greg was sweet.

Someone who wasn't sweet.

Javier Peña.

He had bedded most of the single or unmarried secretaries in the embassy. Even some of the married ones. He flirted with everyone. Well everyone except you and even though that stung a little you were glad. He couldn’t tarnish you if he couldn’t see you.

You’d been infatuated with the man from day dot at the embassy. He was a smooth talker and painfully handsome but you knew you weren’t his type. You were plain, a little on the chubbier side and uninteresting. You'd seen some of the women he’d slept with. Your apartment was across from his and they were all beautiful. The polar opposite of you.

It was the day of the Christmas office party. An event you looked forward to as it gave you a chance to dress up a little. Greg had bought you a stunning dress for the event, something you’d spotted in the window of a shop one day and told him you liked it. He’d managed to find out your size and had snuck back to buy it for you and you had swooned. No one had done anything like that for you before.

The dress fit perfectly. Highlighted all the right parts of you and for once you actually felt pretty. You did some simple makeup, pinned your hair up in a loose bun and wore the only pair of heels you could walk in. Greg was there to collect you when you were done, his jaw dropping to the floor when you emerged from your apartment building and you chuckled at his reaction. You both then got a taxi to the embassy and he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you or his lips from yours. Maybe tonight was the night that you’d let him into your bed.

You arrived a short while later and made your way inside, people excitedly bussing around you as you made your way to where the party was being held. The hall in the embassy had been decorated in traditional American fashion. Tinsel, baubles and lights adorned the walls and a large, audacious, tree sat in the centre of the room with presents surrounding its base. You gazed around in awe of what you were seeing and Greg couldn’t stop watching at you.

Little did you know, neither could Javier Peña.

He had spotted you as soon as you’d entered. He had seen you around over the past few years but until now had never spared you a second glance. He watched you as you entered with Greg from accounts. He’d spoken to Greg a handful of times and he always seemed nice enough, if not a little dull. His attention was so stuck on you that he didn’t even hear Steve talking his ear off until his name was shouted in frustration. Pulling the agent from his fancy.

“Oh no, you leave that one alone.” Growled Steve when he noticed who Javier was staring at.

“What… why?”

“Because I know what you’re like and she’s sweet. She has worked hard to keep herself out of the limelight and you paying her any sort of attention will destroy that completely.” Stated Steve, downing that last of his drink as he watched you head to the bar with your companion “Besides she’s dating Greg anyway.”

“Greg’s dull.” Mumbled Javier and Steve barked out a laugh.

“Greg is nice and perfect for her.” Asserted the blonde agent “Leave her alone.” He warned and Javier simply rolled his eyes, waving his partner off as he stood.

‘Another.’ He asked as he lifted his empty glass and Steve nodded before turning his head to seek out his wife in the bustle of people beside him.

Javier watched you as he approached the bar, taking you in as he came to a stop a few stools over. The dress you wore fitted your form beautifully, highlighting your small waist and larger breasts. You had a perfect hourglass figure and he practically salivated at the sight, wanting nothing more than to worship every inch of you but you were forbidden fruit. Which made it all the harder to resist you.

You hadn’t noticed Javier watching you but Greg had and he felt resentment start to simmer beneath the surface of his skin. If Agent Peña had set his sights on you then he had no chance. No one could resist that man's charms. He was relieved however to see that you remained blissfully unaware of the man’s attentions so he did his best to keep yours on him.

“They’ve done a wonderful job with the decorations huh?” He spoke as he wrapped his arm around your waist and you nodded eagerly in reply “You’re the most beautiful thing here though.”

“Oh shush Greg.” You chuckled, you’d never been very good at taking a compliment.

“No seriously.” He said as he gazed longingly at you “These last few months have been… Well they’ve been wonderful and I know you want to take things slow and that’s fine. Just know that when you are ready, I will make sure to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

You swooned at his statement but Javier scoffed and then as the narrative repeated in his mind he became intrigued. The two of you hadn’t slept together? How serious can you really be if you’ve never fucked? So he decided you were fair game. God help him, he was going to taste those lips before the night was done.

…

“Would you like another?” Javi asked you as he motioned to your empty glass.

You jumped at the sudden question, turning your head to see Javier Peña staring back at you. A mixture of thoughts and emotions rushed through you at once but the one that lingered was lust. The way the man opposite you was looking at you went straight to your core and you found you were losing yourself in his dark chocolate orbs.

“Oh uh… Yes please.” You fumbled, the shock of your current situation lingering.

“You look lovely.” He said sweetly as he motioned at the barman to refresh yours and his drinks “A little different to your usual get up.”

“How would you know what I usually wear?” You questioned, a little taken aback by his statement.

“I’ve seen you around.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” You sniggered, taking a sip from your new drink “Thanks for the drink, Agent Peña.” You finished as you turned to leave only to be stopped by his hand grasping your arm.

“Call me Javi.’ He said softly as he smiled at you.

“Well, thank you again Javi but I must be getting back to my date.” Giving him a last nod you sauntered away, unable to miss the scowl plastered across Greg’s face.

“What did he want?” He asked as you came up beside him.

“He got me a drink.” You replied nonchalantly “That was all.”

“That isn’t all he wants from you.” He growled and your head shot back in shock at his change of tone.

“Greg, I am in no danger of attracting Javier Peña.” You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

“Have you seen how you look?” He snapped and you found yourself growing irritated.

“I have and I am not his type.” You spit “He’s only interested in slim, tall, perfect skinned beauties and I am none of those things Greg. You have nothing to worry about.”

Little did you know, he had plenty to worry about. As the evening went on the music started to die down and people began to say their goodnights, thinning the crowd down to the younger staff members of the embassy. Greg had remained possessive of you, noting how Javier would watch you as you danced with your friends or talked with other people from your department. He’d picked his prey and you were it. Greg, helpless to stop it.

“Would you like to dance Hermosa?” Came a deep voice from behind you and you shivered at the effect it had on you.

Turning you see Javier smiling down at you, his suit jacket long since discarded and tie also. He’d unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his golden skin beneath. Then suddenly your brain caught up with the rest of you and you shook your head as you looked back up at the man that was towering over you.

“I shouldn’t.” You replied, shaking your head as you looked around nervously “I should get back to Greg.”

“Greg is stuck in a deep conversation with a bunch of other accountants.” He countered, taking one of your hands in his “Just one dance. Will be perfectly innocent I promise.”

You tried to find another reason to say no, anything, but you were coming up blank and so you were unable to resist when he pulled you gently towards the dance floor. The song was slow, soft and you glanced around at the other couples close to each other, slowly swaying to the music.

“Relax.” The agent whispered against the shell of your ear and you shivered,

“Why are you doing this Javi?” You questioned, looking up into his eyes.

“Doing what?” He asked with a mildly bemused expression on his face.

“This. Dancing with me, paying me any form of attention.” You elaborated and his brow furrowed “We both know I’m not your type so this isn’t some ploy to get me to sleep with you, or at least I hope it's not. You’ve never spoken to me before tonight so why? What’s this all about?”

“How do you know what my type is?” He questioned, dark eyes watching you closely.

“Because I live across the hall from you and so have seen many of your conquests leave. All thin and beautiful which I am not.” You chuckled to yourself, glancing at Steve who watched the two of you.

“Well firstly, I think you are beautiful.” He stated and you rolled your eyes “Really, you don’t believe me?”

“I believe you’re a smooth talker that’s good at getting women to fall in love with him.” He snorted at the, glancing at Steve a moment before returning his attention to you “I know I’m not beautiful.” You shrug “I came to terms with that a long time ago but I don’t like to be teased or played with. So if this is some sort of game or bet. Please don’t involve me.” You pleaded and Javier felt his heart ache a little that you’d think such a thing.

“This is no game Hermosa.” He said softly “I like you and I wanted to dance with you.” He continued, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek “That's all that is going on here.”

“You like me?” You questioned, unable to help the squeak in your voice.

He nodded as he smiled at you and then time seemed to stand still. Your eyes flitted to his lips as you gazed at each other, the world around you falling away as Javier Peña cupped your face and kissed you softly. You didn't react for a moment, shocked that this is even happening and then you responded, kissing him back as your hands gripped his wrists and when he pulled away, all eyes were on you.

“Can I take you home Hermosa?” He asked quietly as he gazed at you, smiling when you nodded in reply and then he was leading you out. Greg and the party were all forgotten.

…

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep with you this evening.” You chuckled, smiling shyly at the man driving you.

“A man can always hope.” He replied, glancing at you a moment before returning his attention to the road.

“Well, I’m not that easy.” You stated, sticking your tongue out at him playfully which elicited a throating laugh from the agent "I like to be wooed first."

You loved his laugh. It brought you all new waves of pleasure to hear it but as your building seeped into view, along with a familiar-looking truck parked out front, the realisation hit you like a freight train.

“Oh my god.” You sobbed as you hopped out of his truck, clutching your middle as you cried.

“Hermosa what’s wrong?” Asked Javier, his tone panicked as he sprinted to your side.

“Greg.” You choked and he noticed you staring at the vehicle parked in front of his “I kissed you, and I left him there. What… Why would I do that?”

Javier pulls you into his arms, holding you as you cried over the relationship you know you had destroyed. He pulled you with him, taking you inside and into his apartment where he sat you down on his couch and poured you a drink.

“Thank you.” You hiccuped as you took the drink from him, staring at the glass as he sat beside you “I liked Greg.” You started, eyes not wavering from your glass “He was sweet. Liked me for me and I’d never had that before. All my previous boyfriends wanted one thing and I got burned so much I gave up on the idea that someone could want more with me.”

“You have to go through some hurt to find the right man.” Javier replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close “You’ll find him I’m sure. You deserve happiness.”

You sat there and talked for a little longer. Until your eyes were so heavy you could no longer keep them open and when Javier noticed you dosing off, he scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bed. He didn’t try anything. Just simply held you and it was the best sleep he’d had in years.

~

You had no idea you’d be the talk of the office when you returned from the holidays. Greg hadn’t spoken to you since that night and neither had Javi. You’d snuck out the next morning before he’d woken up, mortified that you’d fall asleep at his. You knew you hadn't had sex with him but you’d still slept with him and that brought on all kinds of different emotions. Did he like you the way you like him?

“So how was it?” Asked Kirsten as sat down at your desk, her eyebrows lifting.

“How was what?” You asked, your confusion evident in your features.

“Your hot night with agent Peña.” She elaborated and you almost choked on your coffee “You did fuck him right?”

“No, I didn’t.” You expelled, already feeling sick to the stomach at the realisation you were the talk of the office.

“Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes at your denial “No one goes home with Javier Peña without him having his way with them. You’re so lucky.” She sighed “Although poor Greg left with his tail between his legs. No one blames you for going to the better dish though… Javi is quite the meal.”

You abruptly grabbed your bag and stood from your chair, not stopping to pick it up as it clattered on the stone floor. All you could think about was getting out of there, and fast. You couldn’t miss the sniggering as you swiftly left the office, only to be stopped by two hands grabbing your shoulders.

“Woah what's up?” Asked Greg as he pulled you to the side.

“I uh… everyone's laughing at me.” You sobbed, eyes skirting around and catching peoples stares.

“What did you expect when you went home with Agent Peña.” He scoffed and you looked up at him with a broken expression “All those months clearly meant nothing to you as you dropped your panties for him the moment he called.”

“What? No… I didn’t sleep with him.” You assured, head shaking tears loose from your eyes “I swear to you I didn’t. He kissed me and that’s it.”

“Didn’t see you pushing him away.” He growled and your stomach sank “Despite what you pulled, I still care about you so I will have a word with the others. Just try to keep your head down from now on yeah?”

You nodded, sniffing as you watched him walk away but as you looked around you could see that everyone was still looking at you, talking about you.

You needed to leave.

Your sprinted to the elevators, uncaring of anyone else's attention and pressed the button vigorously, willing it to arrive. You didn’t even look when it opened, just shuffled inside and pressed the button for the parking level. You’d explain later why you’d left.

“Everything okay?” Came a soft Southern voice and you turned your head to see Steve beside you “Rough day?”

“Putting it lightly.” You replied, letting out a watery chuckle as you threw your head into your hands.

“I told Javi to leave you alone. Fucking prick.”

“No this is all my fault.” You sobbed as you looked up at him “Javi was sweet. I should really talk to him but today isn’t the day. Right now I need to go home and wallow.”

“Well, you can do that together if you like.” He chuckled and you looked at him in confusion “He ended up taking today off.

“Right.” You replied as you pulled your bag tighter over your shoulder as you exited the lift and headed towards your car.

Maybe you should speak to him today.

…

You’d more or less talked yourself out of it by the time you'd made it back to your apartment building. You pulled into your allotted parking spot, sprinted up the stairs and made it to your front door, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“What are you doing back?” He asked and you turned to face him, noting how his brows were drawn together in concern.

“I uh… Well, let's just say I’m the talk of the office.” You replied plainly as you pulled out your key, desperate to escape this inevitable conversation.

“Why?” He asked and you looked at him again in amazement.

Did this guy seriously have no clue?

“Well, let's see Javi. I turned up at this year's Christmas party with Greg, the guy I was seeing and then left with you after you kissed me in front of all of our colleagues. Why do you think that I’m the subject for office gossip?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited his response.

“We didn’t sleep together thought?”

“They don’t know that” You replied, rolling your eyes at him “So that’s what everyone assumed happened. That I waited months to take that step with Greg but one kiss from you and I give you what you want.”

“I’m sorry Hermosa.” He replied, his eyes taking on a sad puppy dog quality that immediately had your anger melting away.

“Why aren’t you at work today Javi?” You questioned as your body language relaxed and you turned to put your key in the door.

“One of my informants died.” He announced and you immediately turned to look at him “She uh… Well, she was ratted in by one of her colleagues. We found her last night mutilated and raped.”

“Oh Javi, I’m… I’m so sorry.” You replied as you gave him a sympathetic look, your heart breaking from the pain that was so evident on his face “Did you want to come in?” You asked innocently and he nodded, taking the hand you offered and following you inside.

Little did you know that this time, you really would give Javi what he wanted. You talked, you consoled each other, you kissed and then finally when the kissing became heated and passionate you fucked him, allowing your own troubles to be dissolved by pleasure. You allowed yourself to lose yourself in him and he buried himself in you to escape himself but when all was done and you lay their sated in his arms you started to wonder.

Maybe he did like you.

~

It doesn’t take long for word to spread around the office that you had fucked Javier Peña now. Someone else who lived in the building overhearing your activities and telling the entire office the following day so when you’d turned up the following feeling more relaxed, it was quickly ripped away from you.

“So decided to skive off for a fantastic fuck with Javi Peña eh?” Kirsten asked as she winked at you, the colour completely draining from your face “You lying slut though. I knew you were shagging him.”

“I uh…”

“Oh no use in denying it, you were heard. You’re apparently pretty vocal in the sack.” She sniggered as the other girls in the office started to chuckle along with her “Oh Javi.” She mocked “Oh Javi yes… just there-“

You left before she could finish her berating, tears streaming down your cheeks as you made your way through the halls to the bathrooms in the hope you could cry alone in there but sure enough, you were not to be so lucky. Greg grabbed you as you tried to scurry past but there was no sympathy in those blue orbs anymore, nothing but anger.

“You fucking slut.” He growled, eyes burning you “I courted you for months. Treated you right and the first moment you get you fuck man whore Peña?” He spat and you flinched at his outburst “You just used me. Did you even fucking like me?”

“Yes, Greg.” You sobbed, fat tears flowing freely now “I did like you... I do even. I like you a lot, I swear I didn’t use you.”

“But you couldn’t resist opening your legs for Javier Peña.” He growled, snarling at you as he watched your face crumble “You know he doesn’t commit so good luck regaining any credibility you had here.” He finished, leaving you sobbing in his wake.

You quickly sprinted through the halls, people's mocking laughter filling your ears but you just pushed forward. You looked up a moment and that's when you caught eyes with him, the man from which all this trouble had stemmed from and you stopped, giving him a hopeful look as he grabbed your arm and pulled you to one side.

“What's the matter?”

“You seriously the only person in the embassy not to hear the latest gossip?” You asked, noticing the genuine confusion that spread across his face.

“We were heard Javi.” You explained, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves “Someone heard us and has told everyone.” You sobbed, face leaning into his hand as he cupped your cheek “But you can set everyone straight, tell them that this is different? I mean, it was different right?” You asked, eyes pleading for him to soothe your worries.

“Hermosa…” He trailed off as he dropped his hand and shook his head, your stomach dropping “Hermosa I-.”

“You said you like me.” You choked, eyes growing wide as you shook your head in disbelief “That I’m beautiful.”

“I do and you are.” He assured you “But I’m not a commitment guy.” He paused and you felt sick “What we did was just two friends comforting each other. Nothing more.”

You can’t believe it. How had you gone and done this again? You’d given yourself to someone body and soul only to be stomped on again. You were a fool and you knew it. There was never going to be a chance of Javier Peña want more than to bury himself in you. You were plain. Simple.

Ordinary.

You left without another word. Darting into the nearest bathroom where you emptied the contents of your stomach before crying yourself dry. When you did finally emerge you were called into your manager's office and were instantly told to take some time. You had some leave to take so they advised you to take it. Let the scandal die down a little. You couldn’t be the talk of the office forever.

So you do. You take the two months you accrued and you leave, numb the entire drive back to your apartment. You thought about going home, actually taking a vacation but then you’ve never been one for adventure. You don’t have anyone back home. No family or friends to speak of so you decide to spend it here. At home. Wallowing in your own self-pity.

~

2 months later…

Javier had noticed your absence and he’d also noticed that you never left your apartment. At least you never left it when he was around to see it. He knew you were due back today, one of the other secretaries informing him that your leave had ended so why weren’t you here? It wasn’t like you to be late. You were always in before most of the other office admins were, sipping your coffee as you went through your daily schedule.

No one else seemed to be worried about your absence. A few assuming you’d forgotten that you were due to come back but they were a little surprised when Agent Peña had started asking around for you. Everyone knew that things between you and him had crashed and burned, your very public refusal being the next hot topic for the weeks that followed. So when he came up short with your colleagues he went to your boss, his worry growing by the minute.

“I’m not sure why it matters to you where she is.” Stated your boss as they continued to skim through the paperwork in front of them “It’s because of you that she ended up taking leave.”

“I understand that but…”He paused a moment, trying to carefully plan what he needed to say “She lives opposite me. I’ve not seen her leave in two months or even heard a peep from her apartment. I know that her suffering is my doing but I do care about her well being.”

“Well, you should have thought about her well being before you dragged her name through the dirt.”

“Do you know where she is?” He growled, growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Yes, I do.” They replied plainly.

“So?”

“She’s in the hospital.” Javier’s eyes shot open, stomach dropping as he stared at the older woman across from him.

“What… what happened?” He asked although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you that.” She stated and he let out a frustrated sigh

“Is she at least going to be okay?”

“She’s in a bad way.” She paused as she finally placed the documents in her hands down “If you want to see her I can’t stop you. Just know… it is very likely that she won’t want to see you.”

She told the agent where you were and watched as he left, knowing that deep down he had a right to know what had happened to put you there.

…

A few flashes of his badge and he was soon led to your room, stopping the doctor as he left your room and demanding he be told what was wrong. He could see that you were sleeping inside and he felt himself ease a little seeing that you weren’t bloody and beaten. So what was wrong?

“She was poisoned.” The doctor explained in Spanish and Javier felt his anxiety shoot through the roof again.

“Poisoned?” He asked “How? By who?”

“By herself.” The doctor stated and Javier’s stomach dropped.

Had he really hurt you that badly?

“She tried to terminate her pregnancy using an old home remedy.” The doctor elaborated and Javier jumped at that.

“Pregnancy?”

“Yes.” The doctor nodded “She is around 2 months pregnant.”

Javier knew instantly it was his and a mixture of emotions coursed through him. Why had you not come to him? Why did you feel like this was the right thing to do? If there was a baby involved he would do what was right. You had to know that right?

“She is sedated.” The doctor continued “The baby survived. The remedy did not work but it did nearly kill her. She was hysterical when she arrived. Begging us to save it.” He paused, glancing at you before returning his attention to Javier “I don’t think she really wanted to get rid of it. She was just desperate and scared. She should be okay though. We will continue to monitor her and the baby. ”

Javier nodded before stepping aside so the Doctor could leave. His mind was racing as he stepped inside of your hospital room and taking a seat at your side. He would wait. Wait until you woke up and he would talk to you. He needed to understand why you did this. Why you felt you had no other option.

…

You were shocked to find Peña dosing in the chair beside your bed when you woke up. How did he even know you were here? Your head was pounding and your mouth dry so you turned your head to find the bottle of water a nurse had brought you earlier, only to knock it when you went to grab it. The agent woke instantly and you groaned in frustration. You didn’t need his lecture right now.

“Hey.” He said softly as he grabbed the bottle and opened it before bringing it to your lips “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you sipped the water, relishing how it soothed your sore throat and dry tongue. You nodded when you’d had your fill and watched as he screwed the lid back on and placed it back on the table.

“What are you doing her Javier?” You rasped and he flinched at your inquiry.

“I was worried about you.” He stated, sad eyes locking with yours “The doctor said you and the baby are going to be okay.” He said with a smile and your eyes started to water.

“So you know?”

“Yes.” He replied plainly “He also told me you tried to get rid of it.” He paused, stroking away a tear that escaped from your eye “Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t want it.” You replied, lip trembling as you spoke “And I didn't want to raise it on my own.” You paused, watching him process your words before you go for the jugular “Besides, I was just another one of your conquests. Can't go tarnishing your record and I’ve destroyed my reputation enough. Having your baby will just destroy whatever integrity I have left.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asks, stomach twisting.

“I’m going to leave Javier.” You said plainly “I will leave and I will raise this baby on my own. No one will ever need to know you have a bastard child with one of your many whores. I want nothing from you so you can go now.”

“Hermosa I-“

“Leave.” You growled, angry tears staining your cheeks “I’m giving you the out you want. Take it.”

Part 2

[pan-fangirl-345]

Equals and Dinner

Summary: A part two to Scars and Marks. You’re meeting Bakugou’s parents, and you’re more than a little stressed about it. But the nice woman at the mall calms your worries after giving you some much needed fashion advice.

TW: Mentions of the ex-girlfriend, but other than that, I don’t think there is anything. If I missed something please let me know.

“Why is women’s clothing so expensive?” you hissed as you searched through the racks of scrappy shirts and short shorts.

“I’m pretty sure I saw that shirt in the men’s section and it was twenty dollars less than that,” a woman said, making you jump. “Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, I get lost in my own little world sometimes. Especially when I’m stressed.”

“What are you stressed about? School?”

“No, I’m meeting my soulmate’s parents this weekend. They mean a lot to him, and I’m worried about what they’ll think of me,” you admitted.

The woman looked familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had seen her before. Her blonde hair seemed familiar, so did her red eyes.

“Soulmate? Not boyfriend?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Well, it’s complicated. If his parents don’t like me, I don’t think he’s going to be interest-”

“If his commitment relies on his parents’ opinions, he’s weak. If he’s interested in you, then it doesn’t matter if his parents like you or not.”

You smiled at her.

“You remind me of someone,” you admitted. “I can’t place where though.”

“I don’t get that a lot,” she replied, smiling at you. “It’s refreshing.”

She gave off a very maternal presence, it was comforting. 

“This,” she said, picking something off the rack. “This will win over any mother. It’s pretty, but it’s not too revealing. Not to mention, with your skin tone and hair color, it’s a nice compliment.”

“I was looking at that earlier, but I didn’t think it would look good,” you admitted.

“We are our own worst critics,” she told you, handing you the dress.

“Thank you for the help,” you murmured, bowing to her slightly.

“Oh it’s no problem dear,” she assured you. “Just happy to help.”

“Well, thanks anyways,” you said, smiling at her as you made your way to the changing rooms.

She was right, the dress did look good.

It looked a little short, but with all the black leggings you had, it would look great. The sleeves wouldn’t get in the way, it made you look older than you were.

That woman had a good eye.

She was gone when you walked back out, but you smiled anyway.

You bought the dress, heading back to the dorms.

“(Y/F/N)! You’re back early! Did you find a good outfit?” Momo asked.

“Yeah, I had some help from a random mom I met though,” you admitted, pulling it out of the bag to show the girls.

“Wow, I never knew a mom could have such good fashion taste,” Jirou said, glancing over the dress in appreciation.

“Right? And she made me a little less worried about meeting Bakugou’s parents this weekend.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re his soulmate,” Uraraka muttered. “I mean, you two are so different.”

“But they work, don’t you think?” Tsu asked.

“They work, but it’s strange to see Bakugou not yelling at someone,” Jirou chimed in.

“You guys are more obsessed with my relationship with Bakugou than I am,” you teased, making them laugh.

“Can you blame us?” Momo asked.

“No, but it worries me sometimes.”

“(Y/F/N), can you come help me with this?” Izuku asked.

“Yeah, just let me put this in my room,” you called, running to set it in your room, before you jogged back down the stairs to help Izuku.

“What do you need help with?” you asked, glancing over his shoulder at what looked like a presentation.

“I just need a female eye on this,” he admitted. “I feel like it needs something.”

“Well, maybe a sprinkle of navy blue here, a small dab of white around the edges, and then small streaks of pink along that word there.”

“How are you so good at that?” he asked.

“Society seems to think that women need to be fashion forward. Everything needs to match and you can’t be ugly. I learned early on what matched and what didn’t. Besides, I have an artist’s eye apparently,” you said. “You all good?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, making you smile.

“No problem Izuku,” you assured him.

“(Y/F/N)! Come help me make a point!” Denki shouted, making you chuckle.

“What are you nimrods arguing over now?” you asked.

“If Bakugou were to be a sea animal, what would he be?” Denki asked.

“Pufferfish,” was your immediate response, and Denki pointed at you yelling, “Aha!”

“Damnit (Y/F/N)!” Hanta shouted, making you laugh.

“Okay, but imagine this,” you said, moving your hands. “If he were a dog? poofy Pomeranian.”

They burst out laughing and Denki looked like he was crying.

“HAH? I wouldn’t be a fucking Pomeranian!” Bakugou shouted from the doorway.

“Oh, hey Bakugou,” you said, smiling at him. “The boys needed me to clarify that you would be a pufferfish.”

“What the fuck?” he muttered, staring at you. “What kind of fucked up conversations are you dickwads having?”

You shrugged. “You wanna know, ask them.”

Your phone buzzed and you swore.

“Fuck, I forgot I was meeting Ichiro today! Have a good night guys!” you called, grabbing your purse and a spare hoodie, heading out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Bakugou’s POV)

He watched as (Y/F/N) darted out of the dorms again, frowning.

Who was Ichiro?

He had come down from his room because he heard her laughing, something that had become a comfort for him on his bad days. He had also wanted make sure that they were set for this weekend.

Ever since the ‘Festival Fallout’ as the self-proclaimed Bakusquad had dubbed it, he had been paying more attention to her.

He had no idea how he hadn’t noticed her before now. 

She seemed to light up any room she walked into, she made his bad days better just by smiling at him, she was always around when someone needed help. She didn’t even seem to realize how inherently good she was.

She didn’t seem to realize that she always had confidence when she was standing up for someone. How she always seemed to bite her lip when she was embarrassed, how she always fought better when she was fighting for someone else.

She always laughed when Denki told a bad joke, when Sero wrapped himself up in his tape, when Shinso failed to use his capture weapon, when Bakugou was always surprised by his friends and their unexpectedness.

She was so different from him, Katsuki knew that, he knew they were different, and yet, he noticed her in a way he had never noticed anyone else.

She always hid behind her hair when she was put in the spotlight, she only sang when she thought she was alone, she had a bad habit of biting her nails when she was stressed, no matter how short they got, and she always rubbed her thumb across her palm when she was nervous.

Katsuki had always noticed little things, he had trained himself to be observant, but these weren’t just little things. They were her little things. They were little things that seemed insignificant by themselves, but brought together they were little things that made her . . . her.

He had never really believed the whole soulmates thing growing up. His parents were soulmates, and their dynamic seemed so off to Bakugou. He had always been taught that soulmates were equal. His parents had never seemed equal to him.

He was watching as she disappeared now, and he thought he understood. She wasn’t as physically strong as him, and her quirk wasn’t as strong, but there were different kinds of strength.

What he lacked in faith she more than made up for, what he lacked in confidence in himself at times, she had in him all the time. When he had his dark days, she was right there, smiling at him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

“-bro. Bakugou!”

Katsuki blinked, slowly, then realized the others were trying to get his attention.

“What do you fuckers want?” he asked, glaring at them.

“Why were you staring at (Y/F/N) like that?” Sero asked.

“Yeah man,” Kirishima chimed in, “you were staring at her like she was the best thing in your life. I’ve never seen you look at someone like that.”

“I mean, she is his soulmate,” Kaminari said, making Katsuki raise an eyebrow. “I know I look at ‘Toshi like that.”

Bakugou groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going back to my room,” he muttered, heading back up to his room.

He grabbed his phone, opening her contact.

They had started to get to know each other, mostly on their own. They had been paired together for a project, and they often went out on patrols together because of the heroes they were working under.

Katsuki had found that he genuinely enjoyed her company, and he found that he didn’t mind it when she touched him.

He sent her a quick text telling her to be careful, then messed around with the games on his phone.

He didn’t want to be that person, they weren’t even dating for All Might’s sake, but . . . he missed her.

The realization shook him to his core.

It wasn’t often that he missed anybody. He missed his mother, and he missed hiking with his father, but it wasn’t often that he missed someone outside his family.

For the love of All Might, he was in over his head already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as you stepped back into the building, you were headed for Bakugou’s room.

Denki had texted you as you left the meeting with your brother that Bakugou had shut himself up in his room and that they were worried.

“Bakugou? Can I come in?” you inquired, knocking softly.

He grunted, which you took as a yes.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, not even looking up from his phone.

“Thanks, for the text earlier,” you offered, taking a seat by his bed. “It made me smile.”

He grunted again, but you could tell that he was happy with that.

“Ichiro caught me looking at my phone and asked what I was smiling at.”

You caught the change in his attitude and added, “My brother has always been a snoop, but he didn’t see anything other than that text, promise.”

“Brother?” Bakugou asked.

“Yeah, Ichiro is my older brother. Did I not tell you that’s who I was meeting earlier?”

Bakugou gave a small shake of his head.

“Were you . . . were you jealous?” you asked.

He opened his mouth to snap at you, then snapped his mouth shut so quickly his teeth audibly clicked together.

“Missed you is all,” he mumbled, a small blush staining his cheeks.

You huffed a small laugh, laying your hand on his arm. “You know that it’s okay to miss people right? It’s okay to have people you care about.”

“I know, ‘m just not used to it,” he muttered.

“That’ll change,” you assured him, brushing your pants off as you stood up. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs, the others are worried about you. And I think Denki might try to microwave a fork if we leave him alone any longer.”

You smiled at him, and you caught a glimpse of the look he had been giving you lately.

You held your hand out to him, and he huffed, taking it.

His hand was rough against yours, but you could tell he was trying to be gentle.

You heard shouting from the common room and interlaced your fingers with him, pulling him down the hall.

“Yas! She has magical Bakugou convincing powers!” Denki shouted when he spotted you.

“Let’s be real,” Mina said, winking at you. “(Y/F/N) could convince us of anything.”

“You guys are giving me too much credit,” you said, smiling.

Bakugou leaned over, tucking your hair behind your ear, making you pause. You hadn’t really talked about what you were to each other. You had talked a little that night, but other than that, you had slowly been getting to know each other.

He had touched you of course, a hand on your shoulder to get your attention, and you had sparred with each other occasionally, but this was the first time he had done something like this.

Your cheeks heated, but you let him do it. It was nice. Luckily, if the others noticed, they didn’t say anything about it.

The rest of the night went by as usual, though Bakugou did let you lean on his shoulder when your eyes started to get heavy during the movie you and your friends were watching.

“S-Sorry,” you mumbled, fighting off a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

He grunted, but he shifted so your head was in the dip of his shoulder, and he slid his hand into yours.

You smiled softly, giving his hand a small squeeze as you relaxed against his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up slowly, the light streaming through your window, lighting your room with golden hues.

You sat up slowly, your eyes adjusting.

How did you get up here?

You didn’t remember walking to your room last night.

Slowly a memory surfaced.

Strong arms, a sweet scent, and rough hands that tried their best to be gentle.

Had he carried you to bed or were you making it up to fool yourself into thinking that he was interested?

“It’s too early for this shit,” you muttered, swinging your legs over the side, changing quickly before you headed downstairs.

“Hey there Sleeping Beauty,” Hanta teased, and you flipped him off.

“Fuck off, it’s too early for this without coffee,” you grumbled, pouring yourself a cup, adding enough sugar to kill the entire League of Villains.

“We’re definitely soulmates,” Bakugou said, grinning from his spot by the stove.

“Unlike you, I don’t get up at the ass crack of dawn,” you pointed out, chugging the drink, pouring yourself another.

Denki spewed his juice, making you laugh.

“We still on for this weekend?” Bakugou asked.

It took your brain a good two minutes to process what you had been asked.

“Yeah, yeah definitely,” you answered, shaking your head like you could clear it.

“You really aren’t a morning person, are you?” Mina asked.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. “Never have been. I’m not really a night owl either, I’m some form of permanently exhausted pigeon, maybe a crow.”

“I can feel my brain cells dying,” Bakugou grunted.

“You have brain cells to spare, so shove it up your ass,” you told him, smirking. “Our entire friend group has like, seven brain cells collectively, and these four,” you pointed to Hanta, Denki, Eijirou, and Mina, “never have them. Sometimes you don’t either, but they literally never have them.”

“I’m not sure whether to yell at you or be proud,” he muttered, staring at you.

“Make up your mind,” you teased.

He glared at you, and you smiled back, smug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the door in front of you, smoothing your hands over your dress, trying to will your palms not to sweat.

“Hey, they’re gonna love you,” Bakugou said.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, eyes wide. Your stomach was roiling with nerves. “But what if they don’t?”

You hadn’t meant to ask that, but there was no more filter. Your nerves were chewing through everything, and you were tense.

“They’ll love you,” he repeated, opening the door.

“Katsuki? Is that you?”

Wait.

You knew that voice. And you knew the woman that stepped out of the kitchen.

“Hey! I know you!” you said, smiling at her. 

Then you remembered that your probably weren’t making the best first- or was it second?- impression. “It’s very nice to meet you officially ma’am.” You bowed slightly, trying to hide your wince.

“Hah, you already know each other?” Bakugou asked, looking bewildered.

“S-Sort of,” you admitted. “I ran into her when I went shopping the other day. She’s actually the one that suggested this dress to me. I knew you looked familiar,” you murmured, heat staining your cheeks.

“Mitsuki, is that them?”

The man that stepped out looked nothing like his son other than his build. His face had laugh lines and he had a kind smile as he looked at you.

“You must be (Y/L/N),” he said, smiling at you.

You nodded, giving him a shy smile in return. “It’s nice to meet you sir.”

“Oh please, call me Masaru,” he said, walking over to shake your hand. “Nice grip.”

“I mean, hero training does that to a girl,” you said, smiling.

“I’m sure it does, come in, come in,” he offered. “Katsuki hasn’t stopped talking about you!”

“Dad!”

“What?”

“He’s right,” Mitsuki said, watching you. “He hasn’t shut up about you.”

You remembered what Bakugou had said that night as you sat on your bed together.

My mother hated her from the minute I brought her home.

She must’ve been remembering his ex-girlfriend as she looked at you.

“Um, is there anything I can help with?” you inquired, fidgeting with your hands.

“You can help me in the kitchen,” Bakugou said, laying a hand on your back. “I don’t want that hag in there.”

“That’s your mother!” you hissed, poking him in the shoulder. “You should be nice to her. She’s the one you’ll be asking for advice when you’re older.”

“What kinds of advice?” he asked.

“You’re telling me you think you have people figured out like the back of your hand? Or that you think you care for a crying kid?”

“Who brought kids into this?!”

“You’re a hero, idiot! You’re going to have to know how to care for a scared child! You can’t just glare at them until they stop crying!”

“Why not?”

You stared at him, head cocked to the side, trying to figure out if he was serious or not.

“Your paternal instincts must be terrible.”

“Rude!”

“Am I wrong?” you asked as you crossed your arms over you chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

Masaru was chuckling off to the side, arm around his wife as they watched the two of you together.

“They remind me of us when we were younger,” he murmured.

“Pretty sure the roles were reversed though,” she admitted, giving you a small smile.

“C’mon idiot,” Bakugou muttered, pulling you into the kitchen.

Your shoulders slumped as soon as you were out of eyesight. “Do you think they liked me?”

“My father definitely did,” Bakugou said.

“Your mother hates me,” you worried, washing your hands.

“She doesn’t either,” he argued.

“She could barely look at me,” you hissed.

Bakugou frowned, handing you a towel for your hands.

“Thanks. So, what can I do to help?” you asked.

“Cut these up for me,” he said, handing you a couple carrots and some potatoes. “Small cubes.”

“Alright, where are your- knives, aha!” you said, brandishing one, starting to peel the carrots. “Do you guys peel your potatoes or no?”

“Yeah, and use a peeler!”

“No, I work better with a knife,” you told him. “Besides, it’s one less dirty dish.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“It’s one of the only things we have in common,” you said. “We putting these in pot?”

“Yeah, bottom left cupboard,” he directly as he opened the meet packages. “Hey, snag me a sauce pan.”

“Big or small?”

“Both.”

“Here you go,” you said, handing them to him as you pulled out two pots. “I want to thank you, Bakugou.”

“What for?”

“For . . . giving me a chance I guess,” you said, cutting up the carrot you had just peeled. “I’ve never been ‘that’ girl, you know? I was always that girl where everyone knew I existed, but no one really knew who I was. I was never the girl that everyone wanted to be friends with, never the one who everyone wanted to be with in general. I guess it’s just nice to be wanted, even if it’s just for a little while.”

It was quiet for a long time, and you stopped what you were doing to look over your shoulder at him.

“Bakugou?”

Suddenly his arms were around your waist, crushing you into him.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?” you asked, slowly wrapping your arms around him in return, not entirely sure what was going on.

“I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else sees you,” he whispered, breathing you in.

“Why are you getting all sappy on me now?” you teased, running a hand along the length of his spine, feeling the tension leak out of his shoulders.

“Because you deserve to know how grateful I am for you,” he replied, his arms strong around you.

“You barely knew I existed six months ago. You’ve haven’t even met my parents yet Bakugou,” you said. “How are you so sure?”

“Because of this,” he said, pulling his shirt collar down to show off the tattoo that was right above his heart. Your tattoo.

The tattoo that you both shared.

You had seen it of course, but you had never seen it this closely before.

“It really is the same as mine,” you whispered, touching it lightly, barely registering the fact that he was shivering.

You had spent hours over the course of your life staring at your own tattoo, and this was the exact copy, other than the whorls on ink were softer than they were on yours. Yours were sharper, more defined.

It had stayed black since the festival, you had been checking it every day, just to make sure.

“I mean, you freaked out so much about mine that night, I kinda figured I wasn’t wrong, but . . . they really are the same tattoo,” you marveled, pulling your hand away slowly.

He nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear like he had the other day, making the heat rise to your cheeks again.

“I saw hers,” he admitted. “I knew, I think, in the back of my mind that it didn’t look right, but I was hoping . . . I don’t know.” He frowned, touching the spot on your back where your own Mark resided. “This is definitely right.”

You felt it then, that deep ache that you’d had since first year, that deep ache seemed to disappear from your stomach.

“You’re right, it does,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“(Y/F/N), can I talk to you for a moment?” Mitsuki asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

“Of course ma’am,” you said, glancing at Bakugou, who nodded.

You put your knife down, following her into the living room.

She sat down on the couch and you took the seat across from her, head bowed.

She was silent for a long time and it made you nervous. Your hands moved in your lap, your thumb rubbing the skin away from your palm.

“Y-You wanted to talk to me, ma’am?” you inquired softly. You had faced down villains, risked your life, and had almost died.

And yet, other than when Bakugou had been taken, this was the most terrifying thing to have happened to you.

“I love my son,” she stated.

“I-I never meant to insinuate that you didn’t.”

“I love my son,” she repeated. “But he’s always been powerful, and power draws in all sorts of people. He’s been the leader of every friend group he’s had for a very long time. He’s been fawned over for most of his life, and I have to say that it’s partially my fault for letting it get as far as it did.”

“Ma’am?”

“My son is an angry person, (Y/F/N), he’s a lot like I was when I was your age. He’s been calmer tonight than he has been in ages. He has never talked about someone as much as he has talked about you in the last few weeks. He seems happy. I wanted to thank you for that.”

“Th-There’s really no need to thank me, ma’am. I like seeing the people around me happy. It makes me happy knowing that I bring peace to people. I never want to be someone that others are afraid of. Even if I wasn’t Bak- Katsuki’s soulmate, I still would’ve tried to help him not be so angry.

“He is an angry person, but I think it’s a defense mechanism. Push others away and hurt them before they can hurt him. I tend to use sarcasm and humor as my own defense, and I used it every time the mentions of soulmates popped up.

“I knew, I knew for over a year that he was my soulmate, and I didn’t do anything because I knew- I thought- that he would be happier with someone else. I thought he was happy with her.

“My Mark was faded for a very long time, but that night, the night of the festival, it was as dark as it had ever been. I thought it would be gone by the night of the festival. I heard that was what happened when soulmates stopped loving each other. Did Baku- did Katsuki show you any of the photos from that night?”

Mitsuki shook her head. “My son is also a very private person, he doesn’t share many things with us.”

“Would you like to see photos? I have some on my phone. There’s a recording from that night too.”

You moved to sit next to her, pulling up the album of photos from that night.

Mitsuki smiled softly as she flipped through the photos, watching the video, her smile growing, stopping on one where your back was on full display.

“I thought the Mark would’ve been almost gone, so I had Momo make some adjustments to my dress, it revealed the Mark more than anything I had ever worn to, or for, school. He had no idea that I had a Mark that matched his until that night. He was really upset when he found out that I had never told him.”

You told her about the game of Never Have I Ever, and then how it had ended between Bakugou and his girlfriend. You spilled everything to her.

She simply sat there and listened, though she did flinch when you told her how faded your Mark had been. She looked close to tears when you showed her the comparison photos you had complied.

“I never planned on telling him about what I was. I thought it would’ve ended things for him. I thought he was going to be miserable with someone like me.” You shrugged. “He was so upset when I told him about it. Well, actually, I told his girlfriend that I had never planned on telling him, but semantic. He’s more than I ever would’ve hoped for, if he’s even interes-”

“He’s more interested in you than I’ve ever seen him,” Mitsuki interrupted, the first time since you had started talking. She had asked for clarification on some things, but this was cutting you off. “My son has never brought home girls before that last bitch, and I could tell what a snake she was from the moment she stepped through the door.”

She glanced at the kitchen door, and you knew she could see her son in there.

“He doesn’t need us anymore, his father and me, I mean. He was always such an independent child.”

“He’s always going to need you,” you assured her. “He’s going to call you when he needs advice on wedding rings, on what diapers to get when he has his first child, what to do when that child starts dating. He’s going to call you every time life becomes a little too much for him and he needs someone with more experience. You’re his mother, he’s always going to need you.”

“You say that like you won’t be there,” Mitsuki said, staring at you.

“What?”

“You said, “when he has his first child’. ‘His’, not ‘our’. You’re talking like you think he’ll do those things with someone else. Someone who isn’t you.”

You blinked at her for a moment before you gave a tense laugh. 

“I guess it’s just hard for me to believe that I’m going to be the one he does those things with. I mean, I doubt we’re equal, and he wants someone to be his equal.”

“Trust me sweetheart, he’s going to want to do everything with you, once he gets past the whole emotionally constipated thing,” she said, making you laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, smiling. “Thank you for giving me the chance to explain, ma’am. I know that it’s probably hard for you to trust me after that last girl. I just . . . wanted to tell you that I don’t plan on hurting him. Actually, if it weren’t for the dress, he probably never would’ve figured out we were soulmates.”

“You were seriously never going to tell him?”

“I love your son, and I have for a while,” you admitted quietly. “If he was happy, that was good enough for me. Even if he was happier with someone else.”

“Welcome to the family (Y/F/N),” Mitsuki said, taking your hands in hers.

“Is it safe to enter?” Masaru asked, only half joking.

“It’s safe,” Mitsuki assured them, and both men stuck their heads out.

Bakugou immediately looked at you, concern buried in those eyes.

You smiled at him, letting him know you were okay, your chest warming at the fact that he was worried about you.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Bakugou said.

“Alright,” Mitsuki said, standing up. “Masaru, come help me set the table.”

As soon as they were gone Katsuki was by your side.

“I heard you guys talking,” he murmured, bumping your hand with his.

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded, lacing your fingers together gently. “You know you can walk away too, right?”

“Why would I want to do that?” you inquired, cocking your head to the side.

“You’re not the only one questioning if we’re equals,” he admitted.

“Do you want to be with me Katsuki?” you asked. “Like, actually be with me?”

“‘Course I do, otherwise I never would’ve brought you home with me,” he said, hand tightening around yours.

“Good, because I want to be with you. Otherwise I never would’ve come home with you,” you told him. “C’mon, let’s join your parents before they think we’re making out somewhere.”

“My parents were right you know,” he said, making you pause. “I didn’t stop talking about you. I feel the same way you do.”

“I’m gonna pull a Denki here and state a random fact. Scientists have figured out that it only takes about four months to fall in love with someone. And that applies to people you don’t even know,” you told him. “So imagine how easy it would have been for us to fall in love when we already know each other.”

You walked into the dining room, sliding into the spot beside Katsuki, since it was the only one that wasn’t taken.

“So, tell us about yourself, (Y/F/N),” Mitsuki said, laying a hand on her husband’s thigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Be safe kids!” Masaru called as you and Katsuki headed for the train station.

“We will!” you assured him, smiling. “Do you think they liked me?”

“I think they like you more than they like me,” Katsuki muttered, but you could tell that he was relieved.

“Nah, you’re their son, they’ll always love you more Ka-Bakugou,” you told him, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Did you like them?”

“I think your mother is going to be my new friend,” you told him, smiling up at him.

“Oh fuck, what have I done?” he asked. “You two could end the world.”

“You love us and you know it,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his, laying your head on his shoulder as you walked. “I had a good time tonight Bakugou.”

“Katsuki.”

“Huh?”

“You were gonna call me Katsuki earlier,” he said.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to call me that around people other than my parents.”

“Are you sure?”

“About as sure as I am of this,” he said, touching the Mark on his chest.

“Drama Queen,” you muttered, cheeks flaring with heat.

He smiled at you, a real smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Are you free next weekend?” he inquired.

“Are you really asking me that?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s your answer,” you told him.

[googledocsdyke]

for communitynatural: i think it's interesting that while abed & cas are paralleled, as well as dean & troy, abed and dean speak in near constant references because that's how they relate to the world, while cas and troy just. say things. because they aren't scared of being emotional

ALRIGHT unfortunately this is gonna be long. i wanna deconstruct the cas/troy thing but i’m gonna put a pin in that for now because you’re right! but you’re also wrong! both abed and dean constantly mediate the world through pop culture, in a way that initially makes them seem really similar, but actually when you look at the respective ways their References and Homages work, it actually highlights how different their characters are, and how well they work as foils (different, complementary) rather than mirrors (similar, paralleled)

i think the key difference is that abed uses pop culture to make sense of the world, while dean uses it to make sense of himself. like abed has a very clear & coherent internal sense of who he is, and he's comfortable with it. he knows that who he is isn't someone the world always perceives as "acceptable" or "normal", so sometimes he uses pop culture to translate that person into something or someone “acceptable” readable by the world. but it never actually modifies his internal sense of who he is! key moment: in early season 1, where the study group is intent on making him over so that a girl will like him, and "teaching" him to be "normal". he goes along with it, and when the plan fails, they all express regret that they somehow damaged his self-esteem by forcing him to think that he needed to change for other people. and you know what he says?

"when you really know who you are and what you like about yourself, changing for other people isn't such a big deal." like this is a line that is SO key to understanding abed's character, and makes him like truly one of the best characters on television (it would've been so easy for his internal conflict to come from him hating himself for being autistic(-coded), and they DON'T do that, and it's GREAT) 

and like. can you IMAGINE dean winchester saying that. like can you imagine him saying that even as a joke. for all his efforts to present himself as a Coherent Swaggering Hero, he has DEEP internal turmoil over who he really is, and all the points at which this heroic masculinity fails. half the time, he is gripped by self-hatred. and when he "changes himself for other people" it's not something he casually flips on and off. it's at the very core of his identity. it's something he cannot remove from himself. he knows full well that "your taste in music? dad's. your jacket? dad's. do you even have an original thought?" he then proceeds to listen to the same music and emulate john winchester in essentially the same ways for the next decade and a half.  dean winchester only IS dean winchester because of the external influences that force him to change. and part of this comes from his own compulsion to be written as/write himself as Hot Action Hero at all costs. like literally at the cost of his own life. it's a game that he can't stop playing. when he gets hit by a CAR he wants to know "did it look cool, like in the movies?" abed would never ask that. abed would just know it looks cool. dean has this pathological need to see it reaffirmed by an Audience, a Ceaseless Beholding Gaze that compels him to perform action hero masculinity at all costs

there are two key points of comparison that really cement this for me:

when abed says "i got self-esteem falling out of my butt," it's like an incredibly sincere line. he genuinely is comfortable with himself and has a high opinion of himself. sure, sometimes he gets distressed that the world doesn't see him the way he sees himself, but he knows who he is and doesn't attempt to repress it or lie to himself about it

when dean says "i think i'm adorable" or "there are no men like me" or like any of the "i am dean winchester and i'm amazing and i love myself" swagger lines, it's a PERFORMANCE of self esteem masking, like, a deep core of self-hatred. his entire personhood is built on him lying to himself — (dean to himself in 5x04 voice: i know that lying face i've seen him in the mirror). he can't truly have self-esteem or self-stability because he doesn't truly have a sense of what his Self even is

the han solo thing. in the season 2 finale during the paintball war, abed very consciously takes on a han solo persona because the setting demands it ("it appears we've exited the western and are headed for more of a star wars theme"). he dressed up as han, drops an iconic line or two, and has a Hero's Makeout with annie (who’s “playing” leia) in-character. but as SOON as they're both soaked in paint (and thus their characters are Dead within the game) he snaps out of it with no problem whatsoever. annie calls him "han" afterwards and he literally says he only did it “because the context demanded it.” abed knows exactly when he’s playing a role and when he isn’t, and very consciously turns it on and off.

but dean. OH DEAN WINCHESTER. he is playing the pop culture han solo hero role at all times and will never admit to himself that he is performing. it soaks into like the very core of his being. to quote tumblr user minor-mendings, “dean is trying to be the movie cowboy, the outlaw, the han solo type, with no realisation that that person doesn’t really exist.” i go over this in more detail with my han solo + dean meta - in so many ways he is So Thoroughly Not the pop cultural role that he insists on playing with complete sincerity, and that the writers insist on writing him into with complete sincerity. abed always knows when he is Playing and Referencing and Homaging and Alluding. dean NEVER knows when he is Playing and Referencing and Homaging and Alluding because his whole life is play, an elaborate repetition of stylised acts

so you're right, i think dean and abed are really interesting characters to read alongside each other in that they both 1) sincerely love pop culture in its own right in very fun and neurodivergent ways and 2) use their pop culture knowledge in their own self-fashioning and the way they translate themselves to the world and 3) engage with the world through Homage and Play and enjoy playing Roles. HOWEVER. the way they respectively use pop culture is so deeply different and indicative of fundamentally different processes of self-fashioning and self-perception, that i can't read abed as a dean-figure or dean as an abed-figure. they're complete inverses of each other! dean is a troy mirror/troy-figure and an abed foil

[qqueenofhades]

The photo set you reblogged of Yusuf and Niccolo helping throughout time just filled me with so many happy feels and it made me realize that it seems so common in media with immortal couples that they take breaks from each other and reconnect after a few decades. Which is a great trope but seeing these two that seems to have been attached at the hip since the day they met just fills me with all the heart eyes.

(I haven't read your fanfics for them yet. I know I'm a bad fan but if it helps I havent been able to read anything since all this started but while writing this ask I got the feeling that all this rambling I spewed out is a big theme)

Hush. Bad fan nothing. We all are coping with this stupid, awful year in different ways, some of us by escaping into fandom and some of us being unable to engage with it and some of us doing both or anything else. You certainly don’t owe me or anyone any obligation to interact with our content, fic or otherwise. So just to have that there on the top. You’re good, hun. :)

ANYWAY, thank you for giving me a chance to meta a bit on the boys and their relationship and to have a window into what my brain looks like pretty much 24/7 these days. (I blame them.) I keep thinking about all the ways this couple is depicted in the TOG film and how lovely it was and how unusual it is for me to have an OTP where I actually love them in canon and don’t need to violently disavow it in order to create AU fan content with just the characters. (See: Timeless, Game of Thrones, pretty much any show I’ve hyperfixated on at some point.) I love AUs anyway, because that’s the way my brain works, but the fact that I can also enjoy canon just as much is rare for me and for a lot of us. I saw a post somewhere remarking on how the fanfic for Joe/Nicky isn’t fixing anything, which is usually the point of transformative fanworks: we take something that canon atrociously fucked up and fix it. But in this case, all our interpretations are based on actually appreciating the way they’re presented in canon and wanting to enjoy that and uphold it, and that -- especially with a couple like this one -- is shocking??

Like. Despite my historian gripes about the occasionally incongruous details for their graphic-novel backstories (which are the only things I HAVE fixed in my fics), I’m just... deeply appreciative of the care which everyone, writers and actors and all else, put into depicting Joe and Nicky and their relationship. And god YES, one of the things I love the absolute MOST is that they’re a loving, faithful, committed, happy married queer couple over centuries, and that seems to be the case for as long as they’ve known each other/ever since they got together. (See Booker’s “you and Nicky always had each other.”) These fools can’t sleep apart from each other even when they’re stuck on a freight train in the middle of nowhere, they flirt like teenagers at dinnertime and even when they’re strapped to gurneys in a mad-scientist laboratory, they make out to enrage bad guys and also because they’re just still that goddamn into each other after all this time.

I think it was Marwan Kenzari who pointed out that there’s simply no way to truly state the depth of their knowledge and devotion and commitment to each other. They’re 950 years old. They have known each other since they were in their thirties; they’ve been husbands for literal centuries. There is no way anyone else in the world could possibly come close to replicating the kind of bond they have with each other, and neither of them have ever had any inclination to look, because why would they? Especially with the fact that queer couples in media, even otherwise sympathetically portrayed ones, often have Drama and Third Parties and Promiscuity and whatever else (because of the tiresome old canard that Gays Equal Hypersexualized!), and Joe and Nicky don’t need or want ANY of that. There’s no urge to make their relationship a cheap source of soap-opera conflict. It’s the rock and the center and the core of both of their lives, and everything they do stems from that.

There have been some great metas/comments on how neither Joe and Nicky are sexualized, they dress like stay-at-home dads during quarantine (Marwan Kenzari and Luca Marinelli are both objectively gorgeous men, and they’re out there looking like that, god bless), and the viewer is never invited to goggle at or fetishize their relationship. There are no leering or exploitative camera angles on anyone, and their expressions of love aren’t posed or intended to titillate the audience, they’re just solidly embodied and natural and lived in. It’s never bothered to be stated clunkily in dialogue that they’re a couple; we just see them exchanging looks and smiles in the early part of the film, and then we see them spooning on the train after the mission in Sudan, which confirms it.

At every turn, the narrative celebrates the kindness and love shared by the Immortal Family, the individual characters, and Joe and Nicky, especially and explicitly in queer form. The villains of the film are also defined by how they react negatively to that love. @viridianpanther​ had a great meta on how Keane as a villain is especially set up to menace Joe and Nicky as the narrative representation of toxic masculinity, aggressive heterosexuality, and the usual “Kill Your Gays” trope that we’ve all come to wearily expect. But instead, after that scene where Joe and Nicky fight Keane, Nicky is shot and comes back to life in Joe’s arms rather than dying permanently like we probably all momentarily expected, and then Joe gets to FUCKIN’ BREAK THE NECK of the guy who enacted that violence.... good GOD. The first time I watched it, I almost couldn’t believe it was happening. (This goes for the whole film, but especially that scene.) Like... when do we get that?? When do we EVER get that???

Obviously, there are so many stereotypes, whether visually or in behavior or character traits, that could have been assigned to a gay Italian character (excessively dramatic, effeminate, fashionable, etc) or a gay Arabic/Muslim character (explicitly announcing He’s Not Like Those Muslims, having to actively reject his heritage to make him more palatable to westerners, being tormented over being gay, etc) and Joe and Nicky subscribe to none of those. I get very emotional about Joe referring to Nicky as the moon when he is lost during the truck scene partly because it’s SUCH a common motif in Arabic love poetry. To call someone your “moon” is a beautiful way to say they’re the light of your life, and since the Islamic calendar is obviously lunar and the holidays, months, and observances, are set by the phases of the moon, this also has a deeper religious significance.

I don’t know for sure if they did that on purpose, but it it’s a lovely and subtle way of showing us how Joe clearly doesn’t have an issue with being both queer AND Muslim, and is able to draw on both facets of that identity in a way that a lesser narrative would have denied him. And that is just really wonderful. Yes, we’re seeing these characters when they’ve had centuries to settle into themselves, but there are plenty of writers who would have forced those conflicts artificially to the surface, rather than letting them be long in the past. It’s the same way when you watch a film set in the medieval era, it wants you to know that it Is Set In The Medieval Era. Cue the filth, misogyny, racism, violence, etc! Rather than it being a lived-in reality, it has to be jarringly drawn attention to, and I’m just so glad they didn’t do that with Joe and Nicky. And for them to have met in the crusades and fallen in love??! Come on. That’s just rude. Rude to me, personally.

Anyway, this was a rather long-winded and feelsy way of saying that these characters are constructed, acted, and written organically in such a way that you hate to even THINK of them being separated, and it’s not because they can’t function without each other, but because they are two halves of a whole. We also see that the characters themselves can’t stand being forced apart: Joe’s freakout in the truck scene when Nicky briefly won’t wake up, Nicky making sure to tell Joe that he’s glad he’s awake in the lab, the whole post-Keane fight scene that I talked about above, the way Nicky fights ferociously to get to Joe when Merrick’s stabbing him, etc. For that to be given to the queer couple, where the strength of their love and devotion is reinforced as one of the emotional goals of the story, and for that queer couple to be written in the way that Joe and Nicky are, both individually and as a unit, is just so very rare.

Because yes, there’s plenty of drama and angst and pain in their lives, but there’s none at all in their relationship, and that’s what fans keep telling TV writers the whole time: they WANT to see the couple confront things as a unit, rather than being kept on tenterhooks the whole time and forced to go through manufactured or artificial drama. It would feel especially wrong for Joe and Nicky, who have known and loved each other for 900 years. The fact that their respective actors also put so much care and love into them is very obvious, and makes me feel even luckier that they’re played by people who clearly get them and honor them and know what they’re doing.

Basically: of course Joe and Nicky have been with each other the whole time, and of course we’re all drowning in feelings over it, and I feel very blessed that this ship exists, and I very much need the sequel ASAP. Thanks.

[putas-in-suffering]

Expensive Taste

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Escort!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, daddy kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, pretentious bitches, Miguel being Daddy, Miguel liking being called Daddy (its an important distinction)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Part 2. It’s Monday night’s gala and you decide to make a dull event interesting.

A/N: Sucias! Here’s a second part to our Miguel/Escort saga. You can read the first part here. This is turning into a bit of a series between Miguel and our escort and we are not mad at it. We’ve got at least two more parts written out for this duo so we hope you guys are as thirsty for Cartel Daddy as we are because we’re ready to deliver the goods. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

**We added a Part 3! Read it here.

You laughed to hide the disgust, discreetly rolling your made-up eyes in response to the dull droning’s of some Stepford housewife. She was blonde with capped teeth, the fillers in her lips making her look more like a platypus rather than a human. Despite her cheerful attitude, you could tell she was critiquing you…eyeing you with concealed disdain. You were no stranger to those expressions. People often judged you for many different reasons. Tonight, it was because of who you came with.

Miguel had been whisked away from your side, most likely to discuss business. You were enough of a professional to keep yourself busy. Stay hidden, but seen. Engage, but don’t bring attention to yourself. You were there for looks and nothing else. But Tina had trapped you. Talking your ear off about Botox and country clubs and her quaint vacation spots to a little resort across the border. You inwardly cringed at that. The elite loved to talk shit on the country south of the border, but were the first to book first class tickets to experience “the culture”.

You felt a light touch to your arm and tried not to jerk away as Tina questioned you with a silent gaze.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, sipping on your champagne as you did. The one good thing about these galas was the booze. Always top notch.

“Your dress…where did you get it? It’s so…daring.”

The insult was clear. Poorly hidden within the high-pitch of her sickly sweet voice. You only smiled, having played this game with many women throughout your life. If you had to guess, Tina had been married to her husband for ten plus years. They probably had a couple of kids. She probably took care of those kids, letting her husband work and fuck someone else in peace. She probably did yoga three to four times a week, thinking it would keep her husband around. She did the same with the Botox and fillers. Most likely having a little nip and tuck too. She was pathetic. A dime a dozen in this godforsaken social circle. You didn’t know if you could blame her. But you sure as hell weren’t giving her a free pass either.

“Thanks. I was going to go for something more conservative, kinda like yours. But I realized I’d rather Miguel actually want to fuck me tonight.”

Her face went hard, mouth open in shock at your blatant dig. You kept the smile on your face, even when Miguel saddled up next to you, interrupting your caddy interaction. Tina’s husband joined her as well, his eyes sweeping up your figure in a not so discreet fashion.

“Having fun?” Miguel asked, no doubt feeling the tension between you and the other woman. His hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh. He was signaling you, letting you know he knew what game you were playing and he wanted you to wrangle it in.

“Absolutely. I was just telling Tina where I got my dress from.” You addressed the group, enjoying the way the man and woman eyed you. She with contempt. He with lust.

“You want something like that, honey?” The man asked his wife, the childish excitement practically spewing out of his pores.

“She’d look great in it.” You insisted with a devious smile, catching the way Tina pursed her overinflated lips at you. “Just a tip though…you can’t really wear any underwear with this dress so I hope you’re okay with that.”

You swore you saw the husband pop a boner right there while Tina seethed and twisted her face in disgust.

Wench.

Miguel tugged at your arm, clearing his throat and effectively ending the conversation. “Excuse us.”

You followed him as he led you out the glass doors and onto the terrace. It was deserted, the life of the party contained within the walls of the hotel ballroom. He was mindful of your heels, pulling you along but not forcefully. Though you were sure that had more to do with the lurking eyes rather than any form of chivalry.

“Was that necessary?” Miguel questioned, bringing you to a stop in a dimly lit corner.

You could hear the soft melodic tune of crickets over the heinous shit they were playing inside. The cool breeze swept over your skin, soothing the heat that had begun to stir, both from the alcohol and your tense interaction with Tina. You let your gaze take in the man before you. Take in the perfectly coiffed hair, the designer suit, the angular jaw, the intense dark eyes. He was attractive no doubt, which made your job all the more easier.

“She started it.” You retorted, trying hard to keep the smile off your lips. You knew he wasn’t happy with your little display, but he also wasn’t showing that anger outright. He found it amusing. You could see the glint in his eyes.

“I bet she did.” His gaze swept your figure, taking in all the dips and curves. He’d remarked on how beautiful you looked when he’d picked you up earlier in the evening, but now…now he was looking at you as if you were a very expensive steak on a silver platter.

The dress was a soft ivory color, the fabric delicate and beaded. It was sheer, but the nude paneling underneath kept you from exposing any body parts. It was fitted to your figure, the strapless sweetheart neckline doing wonders for your décolletage. It had a slit up the side, but you’d made sure it wasn’t too high. The illusion of nudity was shocking enough. And Tina was right. It was a daring dress, but it encompassed everything you needed it to. Money. Sex. Poise. And you looked damn good in it. It was a physical testament to your working relationship with Miguel. It was shocking. A hidden scandal all dressed in crystals and jewels.

It was amazing what people in this town would turn the other cheek for. Whether some or all knew of your association with Miguel you’d never know, but if you had to take a guess…they probably treated it like his occupation. Coveted but never acknowledged.

“She looked at me like a whore.” You defended. You stepped into his space, abandoning your champagne glass on the ledge of the balcony. You took his own glass and did the same with it, freeing up his hands.

He smirked at your words, the expression sending a lightning bolt of heat straight to your core. “Aren’t you?”

He was smug. And rightfully so. You were already wet. It was as if he could read your mind. He knew without even exploring the space between your thighs what he would find there. He knew what turned you on. It was the same for him. Its why you were the perfect match.

“Your whore.” You whispered against his lips, enjoying the way his jaw clenched. His expression was tight while his chest expanded with a deep breath. His right hand began trailing along the curve of your waist and down to your backside, caressing. You let his hand roam freely, unafraid of the consequence.

“No panties, huh?” He asked, punctuating his words with a fierce grab of your ass. He massaged the flesh, pulling a low moan from your painted lips. You gripped the lapels of his suit, steadying yourself against the rush of desire that now held you prisoner.

“A practical decision.” You replied, leaning further into his body. He let his arms surround you, this time smoothing both of his hands over your lower half. Your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rubbing against his in a silent plea.

“Practical how?” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response. His hands began slowly pulling at your dress, shifting the material up your legs and thighs.

“Easier to convince you to fuck me in the middle of a gala.” You teased, tongue darting out to lick seductively at his bearded lips.

He grunted in approval, fingers finding their way to the epicenter of your excitement. He danced along your inner thighs, taking note of the way they clenched. They were already slippery with your arousal, your body getting off just on the anticipation alone. He teased your slit, his eyes watching your face closely. You bit your lip as you tried to shift against his touch, eager for more. You didn’t know what made it so thrilling to sleep with Miguel. It could’ve been a multitude of things. His wealth, his authority, his arrogance. It all combined to make a sensuous elixir. One that had you addicted.

“You’re worth every fucking penny I spend on you.” He breathed against your lips, catching the gasp you released when his fingers finally penetrated you. Your nails dug into his chest, struggling for purchase as he scissored you. His palm rubbed at your clit as he worked you from the inside out.

“Fuck…” You moaned when he curled his fingers against your walls. He was encouraging your body to flood him, coaxing an orgasm to the surface. Who were you to deny him?

“You’d let me do what I want, right?”

You nodded wordlessly, too caught up in his touch to verbalize. His rhythm began to accelerate, forcing your pussy to cling to him in mercy.

“You’d let me fuck you right here for everyone to see. Let them see what my money buys. What I own.”

You couldn’t stop the litany of whimpers and moans that danced off your lips. His words set you ablaze, amplifying the pleasure to insurmountable heights. You forgot about your surroundings. Forgot that the pretentious society of Santo Padre stood only feet away. Your body’s carnal desires were the only thing that fueled you from that moment. That and Miguel’s sinful mouth.

“Turn around.” He demanded lowly, his fingers leaving the confines of your body and trailing the stickiness along your skin.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t hesitate. You gave yourself over completely to Miguel, proving to him why you were his favorite…his only. You faced the pristinely manicured courtyard, gripping the balcony ledge as he raised the hem of your dress to expose your lower half. His belt was already undone, his zipper down. He pressed into you, letting you feel the hard line of his cock beneath the fabric of his underwear. You opened your neck up to him in invitation and were instantly rewarded with the delicious graze of his lips and tongue.

“Spread your legs, baby. Let me in.” He whispered against your neck, his hand trailing down your spine. You shivered and obeyed dutifully, letting his body line up with you. The heat of his flesh met yours as he slowly began to push in. No matter how many times or the various ways you’d let Miguel fuck you, he always stretched you with an ache that bordered on painful. The sensation took your breath away.

“Miguel…” You moaned into the night, reaching an arm behind you to thread your fingers into his hair. You tugged at the strands as he sunk all the way into your depths. Your walls throbbed against his cock, feeling the pulse of his blood as he stood completely still. You both savored the moment of raw lust. Savored the erotic connection of your bodies. Savored the risk of fucking with Miguel’s friends and associates just beyond a glass door.

“Tell me what you need.”

You tried to wiggle your hips, but his hands held you firm. You were impaled on his cock, trapped between him and the balcony. You had nowhere to go.

“Move…fuck me, please.” You pleaded, soaking up the kisses he continued to lavish on your neck. His teeth scraped along your earlobe, nibbling as he went.  

“Please what?”

You inwardly gloated at his question, realizing the mood he was in. Miguel only ever asked you such a question when he was feeling especially playful and that usually meant a five star orgasm for you.

“Daddy.” You corrected. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you in response and you squeezed him back, relishing the curse he growled out.

Without warning, he thrust hard and deep, pinning you roughly against the concrete ledge. You yelped at the force of it, your breath catching in your throat. He kept up his brutal pace, using slow, measured thrusts. His fingertips dug into your hips. He grunted like a primal beast as he plunged so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes.

“Oh, fuck…” You bent forward and braced yourself as he continued to ravage you, the angle making your toes curl. You flinched when you felt the sudden pressure of his finger at your clit, his hand unknowingly making its journey up the front of your dress.

“I can feel you, baby. You’re ready. Be a good girl and cum, yeah?” He taunted.

Miguel’s flare for pillow talk was about as masterful as his cock. His mouth was an instrument. An instrument he used with expert precision. He knew when to strike. Knew when to utilize his talent to make you cum harder than any other time before.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a cyclone of pleasure swept you up and immobilized you. Your entire body shook with uncontrolled tremors as wave after treacherous wave of climax assailed your body. You felt him still inside you. He could feel every swirl of your hips, every earth-shattering shockwave that ricocheted off his cock. You gasped for air as his finger continued to torture your clit, despite your sudden oversensitivity. He prolonged your orgasm, praising the way you squeezed him.

“That’s it. Just like that.” He talked you through it, tenderly caressing your cheek as if he wasn’t still splitting you in two. His hips resumed their pace, the sound of him entering you now amplified by your release. You grasped onto his forearm as his hand reached around to squeeze at your throat. His hold wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make you feel unsteady on your four inch heels. The ledge dug into your hips as he rutted into you, his own hips stuttering in overwhelming ecstasy.

“Cum inside me…fill me up.” You said between each ragged breath you took.

“Fuck,” He cursed, plastering your body to his as he finished. The flood of warmth filled you, his body spasming with each spurt of his cum. There wasn’t an iota of space left between your bodies as he used you, painting your insides and filling you to capacity. His forehead rested on the back of your neck, his breathing beginning to slow as he floated back into the moment.

His tired chuckle made you laugh, the vibrations making you both hiss. You ran your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch much softer than the previous time. He carefully eased himself out of your clutches, but he didn’t let your dress fall back into place. Instead, he ran a finger over your abused slit, slipping past and coating the appendage. You gasped at the unexpected intrusion, but let him do as he pleased.

A second later he was removing his finger and spinning you around, your dress now covering any modesty you had left. You met his gaze, seeing his hair slightly out of place and a corner of his mouth lifted in a devious smirk. He raised the finger, letting you see the mixture of you and him that covered it. He smeared it onto your lips.

“Beautiful…” He whispered, nodding in approval when you immediately licked the concoction from your lips. He pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue instantly seeking entrance into your mouth. You gave it, letting him taste the champagne and the flavor of your combined releases. You pulled away breathless and satiated, the drunken high of your coupling still very prominent.

“So should I not wear panties from now on?” You teased, stepping back to allow him the room to adjust his pants and shirt. He composed himself, tucking in his shirt as he laughed at your question. You reached up and fixed his hair, noting the hints of grey intertwined in the inky locks.

“Something to think about.” He replied matter-of-factly, eyebrow raised as if pondering the pros of such a decision. He let you fuss with his hair, black eyes fixated on your chest. “That is quite the dress. A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But if I’m going to look like a whore then at least it’s an expensive one. Right, Daddy?” You winked, trailing a painted nail over his lips and down to adjust the collar of his shirt.

He shook his head and chuckled, gaze now scanning the area for people. “Come on.” He gestured to the ballroom, leading you with a hand to your lower back.

You thanked him as he opened the door for you, letting you pass with a subtle pat to your ass. He maneuvered through the crowd with you, stopping momentarily to greet the occasional acquaintance. You’d grabbed another flute of champagne, standing silent beside Miguel as he spoke with a local politician. Your eyes found Tina’s across the room, a scowl still permanently etched onto her face. You brought a finger up to your lips and made a show of wiping the sides of your mouth, your message clear. She looked appalled, beady eyes bouncing between you and Miguel as if she was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. You took a hearty sip of your drink and waved, pleased when she shook her head and walked off in a huff.

“Behave. I don’t pay you to ruin my relationships with the locals.” Miguel warned in your ear, his arm back around your waist in a possessive embrace.

“No, you pay me to suck your dick and swallow your cum.” You countered.

You took your own kind of sick pleasure out of shocking and sassing Miguel. It was what made all your encounters with him so damn fun. The man’s buttons were easy to push. Some days he played along, like today. Other times he fought against you, intent on punishing you for your transgressions.

“Speaking of,” You continued, handing off your glass to him. “Your cum is currently running down my leg so I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room.”

His eyes flickered down to your thighs hidden beneath your dress, a flash of desire sweeping across his face. He nodded, fixing you with a firm stare. “There and back. No detours.”

“Yes sir.” You mocked, taking his hand in yours.

This time, he wasn’t amused.

“I think it’s time I remind you what your purpose is.” He responded coolly, squeezing your hand back in a deceivingly tight hold. It was an obvious warning that he wanted you to heed, but you’d do no such thing. Playful Miguel was fun, but you yearned for that darker, twisted side that was bred from running a cartel operation.

So, you leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. You patted his chest with a placating expression, surely sealing your date with the devil later.

“I can’t wait.”

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[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok 

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself  to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach. 

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.” 

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault. 

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room. 

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink. 

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts. 

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth. 

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?” 

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?” 

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

.

.

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever. 

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either. 

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

.

.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity. 

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned. 

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

.

.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B. 

.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium. 

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.” 

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier. 

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach. 

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim.  He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in. 

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it. 

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.” 

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead. 

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.���

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal.  "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

.

.

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

.

.

.

[sebsmetal-arm]

Queen of Everything || Steamy JudeCardan

Disclaimer: These characters and world are the sole intellectual property of Holly Black. I claim no right to this property, this is a work of fan fiction. Any use of known quotes are there as a purposeful callback. I tried my best to stay true to Holly’s writing style and characterization but any difference in character aspects or dialogue is intentional. Please do not copy or repost my work. Hope you enjoy! 

This work is NSFW!! This will also be posted to my Ao3 (sebsmetalarm) and my Wattpad (writingsinspiredby). Inspired by an art piece by honey.and.velvet on IG.

Vivienne,

     I hope you and Heather are well. I’m writing to inform you that Cardan and I will be visiting again at the next full moon. He keeps insisting that we should visit regularly, especially now with so much of our family gone from Elfhame. Although, If I’m being honest, I think he just enjoyed himself during our last visit more than he’s willing to let on. 

     I asked Taryn if she wanted to accompany us, but now that she is farther along she doesn’t want to risk traveling. She sends her love.

See you soon.

Jude

I drop my quill into the inkpot with a sigh, leaning back into the ornate desk chair. I know the sun is likely preparing to peek over the horizon to chase away the night, because from deep within the heart of the hill the sounds of Elfhame’s revelry are beginning to die down.

As I make to pick up the parchment, I hear the almost imperceptible sound of the bedroom door snicking open behind me. The change in air pressure sends a gentle breeze fluttering the tendrils of hair around my ears. I knowingly smirk, making myself look busy by beginning to roll up the letter and tie it off. 

There are two things I am grateful for at this moment. 

One; my dagger, which lay on the desk in front of me, is shielded from his view. Placed there for the purpose of cutting the string of course, but certainly advantageous. 

Two; Cardan was a creature of habit. 

We’d been playing at this game for weeks now, ever since we got back from Vivi’s. He would try to sneak up on me to practice what The Roach had taught him, to best me at my own game. I’ll admit, his technique had improved with every attempt. His footfalls had grown softer and less clumsy, but his approach was the same every single time. He was predictable. 

I grip the handle of my dagger, gathering the string in my left hand with pretense. Just as expected, I feel him approach from behind, his restrained exhales grazing the right side of my neck lightly as he prepares to pounce. Before he can make a move, I gently thrust my dagger up and to the right, catching him just under the chin. I hear his breath catch in his throat followed by a long, disappointed sigh. 

“You’re getting better.” I say mockingly, turning in the chair to face him while keeping the dagger pressed to his neck, “But you’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to catch me unawares.”

He peers down at me, his face a mixture of surprise and frustration. “I was certain that I had you that time!” he spits, his body tense with apprehension.

“Cardan Greenbriar, leaving a party early? I never thought I’d see the day.” I tease, taking note of the disheveled, black hair framing his face and the crown atop his head, slightly askew in the usual fashion. 

He purses his lips at my jest. “After you left, the party became rather dull. Every creature from here to Insweal was requesting an audience, it was utterly vexing.” He grouses, accompanied by his usual melodramatic gesticulations. 

“You are aware you’re the King, yes? It’s part of the title, you know, to listen to your people.” 

He scoffs in an almost childlike manner, his shoulders slumping. “Talking grows tiresome when it’s others that are speaking.”

“Cardan, just admit that you enjoy hearing yourself speak.” 

“I mean, of course I do. Have you heard me speak? I’m delightful.” He says, perking his eyebrows.

“Delightfully exasperating is what you are.”

He snorts, wrapping his hand gently around my outstretched arm. “Now, Jude, my love. Do you plan on keeping this dagger trained on me all day or-” 

Interrupting him, I stand, keeping the blade at his throat and his hand falls away. “That depends if you still keep your part of the bargain.” I say, leading him across the room and stopping in front of the bed, “I presume you remember what comes next?” I question, fashioning a playful smirk. 

He rolls his eyes, “As if I could forget your perverse demands. You can be quite bossy, you know.” 

I exhale a laugh, stepping closer as I dig the point of the blade into his skin. “And you talk too much sometimes. Now…” I remove the blade from his skin, but keep it aloft and pointed at him, “Kneel.” 

He begrudgingly drops to his knees in front of me and I take a step back, seating myself at the edge of the bed. Unbuttoning his silk doublet, he strips himself of the luxurious, green material followed by the white, cotton undershirt. He inches forward on his knees, positioning himself between my legs. 

“Good.” I say, the dagger still held aloft between us, “Now, I want to hear you speak the words again.” 

His eyes flash with darkness, fueled by hatred or desire I cannot tell, but it edges me on further. 

“My Queen,” he says derisively, gripping my ankle and lifting it towards him, “My wife,” he preaches, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of my ankle, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his tail whipping around excitedly behind him. 

“Cardan, you’re being given away.” I chide, clicking my tongue playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying this.” I mock, with a devious grin, the corner of his mouth curling into a seductive smirk at my words. 

“My Queen,” he repeats, kissing my ankle again, “My wife,” he kisses higher on my leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He croons devoutly, before dragging his tongue up the length of my leg, making my eyes roll with pleasure. 

In the moment my eyes are closed, Cardan seizes his opportunity. He whips his tail around, circling it around the dagger and jerking it out of my hand and into his before I can even react. With surprising precision, he angles the blade up and under my dress, gripping the fabric as he slices up through the skirt and relaxed bodice. 

With the sudden movement, his face is now level with mine. His eyes bore into mine, his mouth upturned with primal desire and victory as he stabs the blade into the mattress next to me. For once, he had bested me. 

“I enjoy chasing my prey just as much as I enjoy feasting on it.” He drawls, his voice oozing with desire. At his words, heat pools at my core and as his free hand grips my waist I realize that I am now laid bare to him. 

His gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips several times, calculating his next move. I make to speak but he crashes his lips down on mine, his hands pushing the now ruined dress off my shoulders. His hands rove over my skin as he kisses me, his tongue melding with mine as he moans into my mouth. 

He moves down my body, his lips trailing kisses down my skin. When he reaches my abdomen he comes to the realization that I had been completely bare beneath the dress and looks up at me hungrily. He pushes my thighs farther apart, before repeating his script of devotion once more. 

“My Queen,” he whispers against my skin, tracing his tongue up the inside of my thigh, “My wife,” he repeats, trailing his tongue again on the opposite leg, “By you, I am forever undone.” He says, his lips mere inches from my core, his voice almost a guttural moan. 

Before the final utterance can leave his lips, he presses his mouth down upon my center, his tongue flat against my sensitive clit. His fingertips dig into my thighs as my head tips back, every languid swipe of his tongue sending undulating waves of pleasure through my body. I revel in the beautiful haze of my own pleasure, my mind and body bleary and numb with self-indulgent ecstasy. 

The sudden absence of his tongue breaks through the haze like the sun’s rays ripping through the clouds, and looking down I see him staring up at me. He is gently biting his lower lip, on which my arousal is evident. He speaks, his words quiet and contemplative. 

“These are the moments, Jude, in which I find myself most enamored with you; when you don’t realize anyone is looking. Your face softens… your walls fall away, and there is a lightness about you that could chase away even the darkest parts of myself.” He says curiously, his brown eyes glazed with his own ecstasy. 

“I didn’t take you for a poet.” 

He shrugs. “We all have our hidden talents.”

“Well,” I say mischievously, plucking the crown off his head and setting it atop my own, “if a poet’s lips can weave words into passion, then make mine your next masterpiece. Or else, you’ll soon discover another hidden talent of mine.” I threaten, spreading my legs wider for him.

He licks me teasingly. “Is this what you want?” He swipes his tongue up my slit again. “Is this what makes you go mad with pleasure? Seeing your King on his knees, bowing to your every whim?”

He leans down to tease me again but before he can speak another word, I lace my fingers through his onyx hair and pull his mouth to my center with fervor. And a masterpiece he does write as his lips caress my own; and his tongue, dancing figure eights, leaves me tense and breathless with unforgiving pleasure. I cannot help the breathy moans that escape my throat, nor the way my body begins to tremble. Then comes that familiar tightening in my abdomen, the sensation that I have come to crave more and more. 

Sensing my impending climax, Cardan pushes two slender fingers into me - slowly and deeply - while his mouth continues its ministrations. He reaches his free hand around my body, pulling me closer to him. The muscles in his shoulder tense as he picks up his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of me faster. With a few final swipes of his tongue, the building sensation at my core becomes blinding and then explodes, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I grapple for something to hold onto, my hands finding his hair again. My grip is tight enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t let up, determined to see this through. After the pleasure wracking my body subsides, I collapse onto my back as the immediate exhaustion consumes me. 

He withdraws his fingers and I hear him fumble with his trousers before they drop to the floor in a hush. He climbs onto the bed, his lips trailing kisses back up my body and to my own lips, parted in a pant. After a few lazy kisses, I feel his fingers at my lips. 

“Here, taste.” He says plainly. I part my lips and he slides his fingers in, letting me suck my own taste off of his fingers. He groans at the sight, “Sweeter than any everapple I’ve ever tasted.” He muses, “and just as addictive.” 

He leans down, his nose grazing my skin as he kisses my neck tenderly. I feel his hands slide under me and he begins to lift me from the bed. In the haze of my sex addled stupor, I can do nothing but cling to him as he moves up the bed. Sitting down, he brings me to my knees so that I am straddling his legs. 

Brushing my hair over my shoulder, he continues peppering tender kisses over my neck and collarbone, his tongue occasionally flicking out to caress my skin. He makes his way down to my bare breasts, circling his tongue around each pert nipple before taking them between his lips one at a time. 

I graze my hands down his abdomen, one hand about to reach for his hard length when his tail lashes out, coiling around my wrist. He pulls my hand away, tut-tutting at me like a child, “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” He chides, before resuming his torturous assault on my breasts. 

I make an attempt with my other hand but his fingers grip my wrist unforgivingly. 

“What exactly are you doing?” I demand, my body trembling with need. 

“Well, I’m taking care of you of course.” He says matter-of-factly. He continues kissing and licking and sucking every inch of my skin. 

I lean my head back, basking in his devotion for a moment, letting him believe I am distracted. When I sense his attention is solely on my body, I seize the opportunity and rip my wrist from his grip. Reaching back, I pull the knife from the mattress where it had been left and nock the tip of the blade just under his chin, sending his hands flying up in surrender. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Cardan, but I don’t need you to take care of me like I am a fragile petal.” My voice is edged with frustration, “What I need,” I pause, pushing at his chest until he is flat on his back, leaning down until my face hovers inches from his, “is to be filled to the brim by you and ravished until I am senseless and incoherent with satisfaction.” 

He contemplates me for a moment, before reaching up and brushing his thumb along my swollen lip. His heady voice is laced with arousal when he says, “Then, by all means.”

With his permission to take what I want, what I need, I reach below me to grip his already hardened length and position myself above him. I lock eyes with him, his dark eyes swirling with delicious anticipation. I sink down onto him, taking him deep within me, and his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll into the back of his head. He gives a throaty groan and I begin rhythmic movements, up and down around him. 

My head falls back as I move, gyrating my body down onto his. A blurry fog of euphoria begins pervading my every sense, each crack of skin on skin becoming an echo in the distance. The warmth of his fingers wrapping around my wrist brings me careening back. Seemingly, my hand holding the blade had begun to drift. The same hand which he was now guiding back, training the weapon on himself once more. I eye him warily, my eyebrow perking up in a question. 

“Do not think me strange when I confess this, but I find myself yearning every moment for your attention. Even if it means I must stare down a blade of forged steel, I would meet with a thousand more and risk my own blood just to spend eternity in your gaze.” 

His tender admission leaves me fumbling for words and I duck my head, a rose blush creeping up my cheeks. My mind wars with itself, searching for all the right words but finding nothing but a labyrinth of uncertainties. My head jolts up and I can feel the accusation in my eyes. His face contorts into one of concern, his lips parting under my contemptuous gaze. 

“You- you are insufferable, you know that? You say these things that muddle my brain into nothing and everything all at once! I cannot deduce which I loathe more… the fact that I love you so much- so much that it pains me” I say, my voice breaking, “or the fact that I hate you for making me love you.” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You make me feel weak and vulnerable… and I despise it. When I first realized I was no longer repulsed by the sight of you, I plotted your demise over and over. I dreamt of gutting you from neck to navel just so I wouldn’t have to face... feeling.” I lament, my piteous confession arousing those feelings of self-loathing that I had been afeard to confront. 

He reaches up, grasping the back of my neck and pulls me down to his face. He places his other hand on top of mine, wrapped around the hilt. 

“If the day ever comes in which you can truly no longer stand the sight of me, make good on your word.” He demands, tightening his grip around my hand with intent. “But until then, Jude Duarte, hate me, love me, be disgusted with me, or sing my every praise - it matters not. As long as you feel something for me, I will consider myself King of more than just Elfhame. And if spending every night in this bed makes you feel vulnerable, then I will spend every moment thereafter helping you build your wall back up, stone by stone.” He grips my neck once more, his thumb brushing my cheek. He reaches up, softly brushing his lips against mine, letting his tongue dip into my mouth for a moment before pulling away.

“Aren’t I just disgusting?” He jokes, his breath tickling my skin.

“Positively vile.” 

He turns my head, gaining access to my neck and as he plants a tender kiss to my throat, he lifts his hips, sinking his erection deep inside me. The sudden contact is all-consuming, making me moan. With a swift movement he flips me over on to my back, maintaining his position within me. He places one of my ankles on his shoulder and the other I wrap around his back, urging him closer. A tickling sensation encircles my thigh as his tail wraps around it possessively. 

Leaning forward, he props himself up on his forearms, his hands grasping my breasts. He pushes his hips forward, circling his thumbs around my nipples with each thrust. He groans, his jaw slackening with his growing arousal. His lips find the inside of my knee, peppering lazy kisses up my thigh. 

“You feel- gloriously devine wrapped around me.” He grunts between breaths, his voice rumbling against my skin. 

I cannot find the words to reply, so I simply squeeze my leg around his back in desperation. He takes the hint and his pace quickens, the slap of our hips echoing off the stone walls of the bedchamber. His sensual movements are a ravenous assault upon my mortal flesh that I welcome greedily. Feeling that coil deep within me begin to tighten, I exhale a rattling breath. He, too, recognizes his release within sight and his body tenses slightly, his brow beading with sweat as his hands grasp my breasts hungrily. 

My fingers find their place in his hair again, grounding my soul to keep it from leaving my body. My gasps become erratic, that delicious sensation tightening more and more. He begins trailing his tongue across my bosom, dropping a kiss here and there. After a moment, he stops and when I look down he is staring at me, his eyes dark with delight. He frees one of his hands, reaching down between us and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in small circles as he continues to slide in and out of me. The sensation makes me gasp, my back arching off of the bed. I can still feel his eyes on me, observing me as his tongue continues trailing lazy swipes across me, his breath fanning over my skin. 

My fingers leave his hair, my arms flailing out as I grip the bed sheets. I feel myself begin to topple over the edge, that coil releasing inside me in a powerful wave of pleasure. As if Cardan can sense it too, I suddenly feel his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my bosom. The sharp pain mixes with the pleasure, intensifying my release and I let out a strangled cry as my body shakes uncontrollably. Cardan slows his movements, each thrust deeper and harder than the last and he groans loudly into my chest as he finds his own release, the vibrations making my skin tingle. As if his body can give no more, he collapses on top of me in a sweaty heap. My body is buzzing, my chest heaving with exhaustion. A few moments pass, nothing but the sound of our satiated pants filling the room, before his voice rumbles against my sternum. 

“Lest we forget your accusation of my own narcissism, I must infuriate you with another confession.” He says, before lifting his head, folding his hands on my stomach and propping his head atop them. He ponders for a moment, steeling himself before speaking, his voice quiet with uncertainty, “I know you were once Queen of nothing. I know you were exiled to the mortal world at my command with no hope of ever coming home, under the impression that I had betrayed your trust. I- I would never wish that hopelessness on you again… not even in the moments that I hate you. So time and time again, until the light of this world snuffs out, I will kneel before you and try to make you feel like the Queen of everything.”

I cannot help the slow smile that creeps across my face coyly, nor the heat welling in my cheeks. I swallow down the lump in my throat, refusing to let him break me down completely in one night, but I brush a hand through his hair in recognition of his admission. A nagging question pops into my mind and I am suddenly grateful for the distraction. Propping myself up, I look at him intently. 

“Might I ask why you bit me?” I question, feigning anger of which he doesn’t seem convinced. He simply smirks, takes my hand, and presses a kiss to each fingertip before deigning to reply.

“I told you that one day I would hear you scream.” He said, his voice laced with arrogance. I let out an incredulous gasp, but he silences me with his lips. His tongue finds entrance as he kisses me into another stupor, and I soon forget my anger as I let myself drown in him once more. 

( Thank you for reading!! :D )

[just-a-creep-babe]

Matchup!

Commissioned by @nemkultra, tysm ^^ 💗✨

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

I match you with: Eyeless Jack

This mans has some hardcore heart eyes for you ngl 💗~💗

You’re just,, so chill and easy to get along with??

Maybe it’s your style—that dark emo kind of fashion that he also tends to stick to himself—but something about you just makes him feel super at ease from the very beginning

In a room full of people, even before he got to know you, he kinda just naturally gravitates towards you tbh

You just have this magnetic pull on him that feels right

Your scent too btw?

It’s kinda weird to say but you smell fckn delicious to him 👀👌

And the fact that you’re pretty short—especially compared to him—combined with your scent & that magnetism really sends his demon instincts in overdrive

Meaning, he ends up getting very protective of you very quickly

He realizes earlier on that you can most certainly take care of yourself, but like,, that’s not gonna stop him from wanting to defend you any way he can

Any threats in the near vicinity, especially the physical/confrontational ones, are nearly nonexistent when he’s around

Which might be more often than you realize

Like I’m not saying he stalks you, he just sometimes keeps a close eye on you,,, from a distance,,,,, usually lurking in the shadows skdkhdksldl

Honestly, lord help anyone who comes near you with aggressive intentions smh

Not only that, but he also can and will remove anyone who’s bugging you or draining you social battery & making you anxious

All ya gotta do is ask or gives him some kind of signal

And even then, if he gets suspicious they’re being rude or unpleasant or anything, he’ll straight up just come to you like “is he bothering you, queen?”

But other than that, he’s a pretty laid-back person ngl

He’s a great listener & will gladly hear you ramble on about anything and nothing

Whatever it might be, whether you just wanna talk about your day or some new songs you’ve discovered, he’ll put you on his lap, stroke through your hair or trace your tattoos while purring contently, listening to you

Boy just wants to be near you and hear your soothing voice as you explain to him your general thoughts & opinions—it makes him so damn happy tbh ^^

He’s a very good bf and will always support you however he can uwu

Even if you don’t really feel like talking, he’s fine with just wrapping his arms around you & quietly enjoying your presence

He might not know much about ADHD, but he will do his research to get a better understand of it & learn how to help any way he can

He does, however, have a bit of PTSD himself, so he already knows a bit on how to help deal with that

So he’s very considerate of any triggers you might have and does his best to keep you safe & happy & comfortable :>

Also like,,,, this man’s presence is so damn comforting

Any time you feel a panic/anxiety attack come on, having him around does wonders

It’s very reassuring to have a tall, strong & protective demon bf in life tbh

Like he knows he’s pretty intimidating, so he‘a got a very calm & relaxed demeanor to make up for it

Knowing this strong ass predatory monster would do anything in his power to protect you from legit anything does wonders to your peace of mind

And having him hold you in his arms, purring and rumbling soothing praises is always very comforting—like the two of you are in your own little world & nothing can reach you

He’s kinda effortlessly powerful, but it goes without saying that he’s an absolute gentleman & would never use that strength against you—with exception in the bedroom, but we’ll get to that later ;)

He doesn’t wanna abuse his capabilities, but he still does end up naturally taking charge tho—both in the streets and in the sheets

Those are just demon instincts for ya ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Boy admires how you don’t take any crap & won’t hesitate to stand up for yourself tho

He likes knowing you’d tell him off if he ever crossed any boundaries; that way he doesn’t have to overthink or worry too much

Also, that nurturing side you’ve got with those strong maternal instincts??

His demonic side is crazy for it

He honestly admires you so damn much, you have no idea ✨🤧

Like he, himself, isn’t the best with kids; he’s kinda scared to hurt them and he’s not really sure how to react around them

But he still appreciates them & their different perspective on life

So he genuinely likes asking how your day went at work, and after a while, he’ll start learning about the kids & asking about them too ^^

If he can help them with any kind of,, situations out of their control, he most certainly will, almost like a guardian demon angel :”)

Like with kids, even if he does appreciate them, he’s also not the best with animals

They can usually sniff out his demon side & it scares them

Cats are sometimes ok with him, but even then, it depends on the cat

So honestly, ya just gotta give him a lil time to adjust to them and vice versa :”>

He’s also a lil freaked out by spiders, snakes, rodents and the like, but he’ll never admit it, so it’s just fun to tease him skdjdksll

He’s a very clean boy himself, so unless he doesn’t eat/sleep for a while & loses control to his demon, you don’t have to worry about him making any kind of mess

Ultimately, this mans is super chill & laid back and will absolutely not hesitate to cuddle up with you any day/any time, whether or not you’re feeling stressed or anxious tbh

You've had a long day & just wanna unwind watching anime or playing video games?

No prob boo; even if he might not understand them, he’ll gladly watch any show with you while offering up some fine back rubs to help you relax 😌👌

He doesn’t really understand poetry either, but he’ll listen to you read it aloud, purring faintly, rubbing his thumbs over your skin and sometimes planting lil kissies here n there 😚😚

He also might try to pick up an instrument, having the faint recollection of knowing how to play from his old life, just to impress you ngl

He just wants to make you happy & care for you because he loves you and thinks you deserve the world uwu

NSFW

Omg you’re honestly like,, the perfect height for him to just pick up & manhandle however he pleases tbh skdjdhslsl 😳😳

When you’re wearing dresses too?

All the easier to use you like a perfect little doll~

But he won’t do it unless he knows it’s alright with you, ofc

Like I said, he’s a gentleman first & foremost 😌👌

Homeboy’s also got a thing for those fishnet tights 👀

So you can bet he might just tear a hole through them & stick his dick in them to fuck your thighs through the lace

He just can’t resist the feeling of your plush thighs squishing his length, squeezing him with the frail material stretching & wrapping so perfectly around him

Don’t worry though, he definitely buys you new clothes all 👏the 👏time 👏to make up for it ;))

Sometimes when he’s feeling like a tease, he’ll settle you down nice and comfy while you’re still wearing those tights & get between your legs to tease his tongue through the material

Loves hearing your little gasps and moans as you try to rub into him for more friction, desperate to feel the entirety of his tongue without that stupid obstruction

Once he thinks you’ve had enough, he won’t be able to hold back any longer before dislocating his jaw and absolutely devouring you until you’re practically shaking against him

But other than the occasional teasing that has you mewling and squirming, this mans will absolutely treat every inch of your body just right 🥴👌

Those belly button & nipple piercings will definitely receive the attention they deserve 👅💦💦

If you’ve had a stressful day at work or if your anxiety’s starting to get the best of you, it’s no prob bb

You can lay back, relax & let him do all the work—having his fun tasting you & shoving his tongue in and out of your dripping core~

He’ll be on cloud 9 knowing he can help while also getting to stuff his face between your legs

Also likes dislocating his jaw to cram the full length of his tongue down you throat to toy with the little metal ball on your tongue too :pp

His demon is totally enamored with everything about you, so you can bet he’ll always leave plenty of possessive bite marks all over you

He’s super scared to hurt you tho, so it’s safe words galore tbh

He pays a lot of attention to your boundaries & needs; you’re so frail & vulnerable compared to him, how could he ever forgive himself if he hurt you?

His heats are especially bad when it comes to being rough—he has to resist absolutely ruining you every time

It honestly takes a long ass time for him to let you stay to help through it because he’s so scared of losing control

If he ends up going too hard & you need to use a safeword, he’ll treat you like porcelain during the aftercare

And even throughout the next couple of days that follow, he’ll be extra careful around you because he’ll feel like shit for taking things too far ngl

I’m talking about waiting hand & foot on you—not that he wouldn’t already do so regardless

And he might be a tad reluctant to do the nasty afterwards, but a lil convincing & reassurance on your part and he won’t be able to resist

Except he’ll take things real slow and careful

Like,, excruciatingly slow skdjdhsl

But honestly, it doesn’t make the orgasms any less intense

Instead of hitting you hard & fast like electricity rocketing through you, it’ll be like one long wave crashing into you as he keeps rocking his hips at a perfectly steady pace

He just wants to make you feel good & show you how much he loves and cares for you, ya know?

Those back rubs I mentioned have some high ass chances of turning into something more

They might end up with you beneath him, one of his large hands pining your hips down, the other entwining his fingers into yours so he can feel every little squeeze when he drags his cock along you most sensitive spots

And if you read him some steamy poetry, he just might end up between your legs one way or another, chuckling and coaxing you to keep going as he hits every spot so wonderfully

This mans is practically a sex god even if he might not realize it ngl 👁👅👁

Only thing is, like I’ve mentioned, him and animals don’t always get along

So he can’t stand being watched by your pets while he’s trying to get some :/

You, ah, might wanna close the door behind you or he’ll have to stop halfway through 😬

But he’ll be more than happy to keep going once he knows the two of you are completely alone again~ 😏👌

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Rebirth and Rewrites

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warning: Language, mentions of self harm, antidepressants, mentions of injuries, violence, anxiety attacks, depressing thoughts, mentions of parental neglect, self destructive behavior, mentions of weapons, mentions of bounty hunters, allusions of sex.

Word Count: 8.5k

Songs: dRuGz- Willow Smith, Money- Leikeli47, Only You (And You Alone)- The Platters, and Moonsickness- Penelope Scott.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this. Feeling like you’re disconnected from your body that is. Like in the Edge of Seventeen when Nadine says she gets this feeling like she’s looking down on herself from outside her body and she hates what she sees. That’s sort of how it felt. But this? This felt entirely different like I was in the wrong body but retained my soul, it couldn't be explained. It requires no explanation really if you understand it then great and if you don’t you don’t. ”

A/N: Sorry this took so long school got too be a bit much things are kinda slow but now they’re starting to get interesting. 

Series Masterlist  Previous Part   Next Part 

The shampoo bottles flew wildly around the bathroom along with everything else that wasn’t bolted down. I tried my best to put everything back in place but the second I’d put one thing down another thing was moving back up towards the ceiling. 

“No, no. No stop!” I spoke as if the inanimate objects would listen to me and stop moving. 

Fuck. No stop. Please.

Everything was swirling in a tornado like fashion above my head. I ducked down into the bathtub and just waited because it had to stop at some point. Right?

“Y/N?” I heard Carmen call. I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I don’t think I’d have been able to speak if I tried. 

“Y/N open the door please” She asked softly followed by the sound of the doorknob rattling. 

I didn’t hear anything else for who knows how long could’ve been a second, 30 minutes, an hour I couldn’t tell. The door was slammed open. Startling me. Everything froze in the air for a few seconds before falling.

“Are you okay?” Carmen grabbing my shoulders. 

I nodded and shrugged her arms off me. Pushing myself up to stand on my legs. It was then and only then did I realize I was shaking.  

I opened my mouth to speak when there was a chime almost like the sound of a microwave. It felt like my eyes had zoomed out above my body. An aerial camera view. 

What I was experiencing was an out of body experience in the past. Like some Ebeneezer Scrooge type shit or a Raven Simone moment but backwards. 

I was shaking my hands flexing at my sides. Except for it wasn’t me me, it was another version of me passing off as another person that I could see full body.  

“Oh are you going to cry?” Heaven taunted. 

I watched as I blinked tears out my eyes. Anyone else would see this as a moment of weakness. However, I know I cried when I got really angry. And I mean really angry. Like rip your heart out, chew it up and spit it out angry. 

“Shut. Up.” I breathed looking down at my feet. 

“And what if I don’t you wanna snitch on me? Cry?” 

I knew the jist of what happened next. I was there when it actually happened. I beat her ass and got suspended. I just didn’t remember exactly how it happened or what exactly I did. 

The girl was still running her mouth but I wasn’t paying attention to that. I was watching her hands and her stance. That was something Wade taught me to watch someone’s body language, that way you could know when or if they were about to swing at you. 

 I threw a sharp right hook knocking Precious’s head into the locker. Right as Precious was about to go for my hair I was falling. 

The floor fell right from my feet and the scene that was once in front of me faded away. I wasn’t falling for long, my back slammed into the cold cement beneath me. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a good guy,” I laughed “Now you’re kicking me around for no reason at all?” Wait. I remember this. Why was it happening again? Why wasn’t it in the third person like the last? This was a core memory for me. My first encounter with Spidey. 

“You were stealing. It’s my job to stop crime,” 

I knew exactly what to do and say. I’d have to run over this like a practiced script. I pushed myself backwards with my hands. 

Oh yeah and who’s paying you to do that?

“No one, is I’m just a good person,” 

“Am I not a good person?” 

A cold sticky wet feeling engulfed my wrist. 

“You are a criminal and deserved to face the proper punishment,”

I rolled my eyes and grunted as I tried to pull my wrist out of whatever it was holding me to the ground. I used to think the webs actually came out of him which is disgusting. 

“Yeah, yeah sure can you hand me my bag so I can leave?” I teased.  

“Y/N!” A random voice called out. That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“What was that?” Spiderman or Peter asked. I looked around trying to locate the voice. I heard my name called again before the only thing I could hear was a loud crack. 

I looked underneath me and the ground beneath my feet was split down the middle. I tried to pull my arm out of the webbing harder this time. The floor continued to split like a crack in a windshield before eventually consuming me and I was falling again.

As I was falling everything looked so beautiful. There were glowing orbs of light all around me. It was completely black except for the stars and orbs. 

It was then that realized I wasn’t falling anymore. It was the opposite. I was floating or stiled in place.

 I wanted to touch one of those bright spherical orbs I probably shouldn’t but I was going to do it anyway. I reached out towards it and my hand glided smoothly through the air. Or not air? This is space right? There’s no oxygen in space. Then how was I breathing?

My hands went straight through the orb leaving behind the same fire like ribbons from a few days ago and earlier today. The waves were fluid. They felt like nothing. Like a breeze maybe. Something that could possibly tickle if you endured enough of it. 

A large energy surge shot out the orb knocking me back. At least 100 feet once my arm was all the way through. It didn’t hurt though it was just strong. 

When I started moving back towards nothing in particular it felt like I was swimming. I began to laugh, I felt so free. 

 Multiple rings opened around me. I was circled with gold rings shooting off sparks. They looked like portals. To where I don’t know. There were some that looked like fiery pits of hell. Others were very colorful like a rave or rocky terrain. 

There was one that was calling me for some reason. Something told me to stop resisting the pull to stay where I was but I knew I couldn't. I pushed through the air. Well I guess I pulled myself towards it instead of pushed. I slid through like a knife through butter.

The first thing I felt was the coolness of the porcelain bathtub on my back. My head felt as if it was expanding inside my skull.  

I stepped in between all the shampoo bottles and hygiene products on the floor making my way out of the bathroom. I entered the living room not prepared to see Tony and Peter sitting there on the couch with some person I’d never seen. Who looked straight out of a Men in Black movie. 

“Oh shit.” I turned to Carmen grabbing her arm and dragging her down the hal l“What the fuck did you do?” 

“Where were you?” She answered my question with her own. Well two can play that game. And I believe I asked first. 

“What’d you do? Why'd you call them? Or if you didn't, why are they here? It was just a few bottles, I had it under control,” 

“I was freaking out that’s why! Where the hell were you?” 

“What are you talking about? I was in the bathroom. You saw me,” 

“You’ve been gone for 7 hours Y/N!” 

“What?” I shook my head. “No. What are you talking about?” 

“You’ve been gone for 7 hours and your eyes are glowing. What the hell is going on with you?” 

I pulled out my phone opening it to the camera app and my eyes were in fact glowing. I blinked very hard multiple times. Shaking my head until it cleared. What the fuck is happening.

I sent Peter, Tony, and the Agent J wannabe on their way with a few lies to clear the air. I’m sure Tony would want to play more of his mad scientist game on me but that’s a problem for another day. I was just going to read my book until I fell asleep. Last interaction I had with another human that day was Carmen patting my shoulder and saying “Welcome to the world of mutants, girl. Buckle up it’s a bumpy ride.” before walking away.  

I swear to whatever’s out there that I’m losing my mind. Like full on shave your head and move to New Mexico crazy. I’d open that can of worms later. 

“I don’t think I can love myself without sexualizing myself is that bad?” I asked, applying my lipgloss.

“I don’t necessarily think so, it’s common but if it gets out of hand, it can create lots of other problems,” MJ gave her input.

“Oh I definitely know all about the problems it can cause I just can’t stop, ” 

Carmen strolled into the bathroom. 

“Where’s the thing?” 

“What thing?”

“You know the,” She did a hand movement that I somehow understood. It wasn’t even remotely connected to what she was trying to convey either. 

“Oh! The face paint. It’s under the cabinet by Salem’s food bowls,” 

“What?” MJ questioned. “How did you get face paint from that?” 

I just shrugged. 

“I don’t know. We’re like connected or some shit,” 

I sat on the couch, Halloween playing on the TV but no one was paying attention. We were all on our phones. 

“Alright,” I sighed, pushing up from the couch. “I should be done at like 9 so that gives us like 11 to get there,” 

I promised my sisters I’d take them trick-or-treating. It’s been like this forever and I wasn’t going to back out now. Sapphire was actually dressed as Spiderman and for some reason I couldn’t tell if that made me wanna laugh or cry. Didn’t even know they made costumes for that guess that whole being sponsored by Tony thing was coming in clutch. 

I don’t know how it works anywhere else but in New York you gotta go trick-or-treating on the street. Everything is private property and you can’t just get buzzed in just for candy so you go in publicly owned places. 

“This is the last store for tonight, I gotta get back” I informed them.

Sapphire whined and I wrapped my arm around her pulling her into my side. 

“Cmon’ little superhero,” 

I stepped off to the side towards Aaliyah.

“For your sake I would not let her eat much candy if any tonight,” 

An half hour later and I was back at Carmen’s house. I really need to find somewhere else to stay. It's been too long here. 

After what felt like a million hours Harry finally showed up. 

“I’m driving,” I claimed moving towards the apartment door. 

“No you're not,” He stated.

“Oh really? Then why do I have the keys.” I lifted the keyring rattling it around. 

He let out an aspirated sigh. I could tell he wasn’t going to fight me on this. I'm sure he was just confused on how I even got them. 

Now there were two reasons I was driving. One because I had to make a detour and two I didn’t want to sit in Harry’s backseat because God knows what has happened back there. 

Back to the detour. It was Peter’s apartment complex. I'm surprised he agreed to come. had just brought it up to be polite. It was well known that parties weren’t really his scene. 

Harry held his hand out, palm facing up. There lied about seven bars. I’m honestly surprised he was sharing willingly. That was new. 

 Bri and Carmen as well as myself had no qualms about popping the xans. MJ didn't take any, just shook her head when offered, which I’m glad she’s too smart for drugs. So is Peter which is exactly why I pushed Harry’s hand away. Giving him a look daring him to even think about offering anything to him. 

Everyone had split up Carmen with MJ. Bri to honestly I don’t know where and Harry to I don’t think I want to know where. And Peter? He’s with me of course, couldn’t leave him by himself. 

“Where’s Ned I haven’t seen him in a while,” I decided to speak because I couldn’t stand the awkward silence in this bedroom I’d somehow backed myself into. 

“He said he’s been to one party this and that fits his quota for the year,” 

“Well I would’ve thought Liz’s thing met your quota too but here we are,” I could feel my brain slowing down and smiled slightly. Then I noticed how far away Peter was on the bed.

“You can get closer, I won’t bite,” I hummed. “Unless you want me to of course,” 

“What!?” He almost shouted.

“I’m kidding dude, calm down,” I laughed. The room fell into silence again save for the sound of the music vibrating throughout the house. I miss real house parties. But oh well this party where I wasn’t actually doing anything would have to do.  

“Just realized I never asked. What are you dressed as?”

“Han Solo,” He replied as if I was supposed to know who that was.

“Who?” I scrunched up my eyebrows. 

“You don’t know Han Solo?” 

I shook my head. I’m sure it looked a lot sloppier than I meant for it to be I just couldn’t really move my head

“From Star Wars?” He tried again.

“The only people I know from Star Wars are Princess Lelia, Luke Skywalker and that one robot motherfucker.”

It was hard not to smile as Peter rambled on about the Saga. I wasn’t really paying attention but he looked adorable. I was just staring at him and I’m sure if Harry or Carmen were here they’d tell me I looked like the embodiment of the heart eye emoji. It’s not like I liked him or anything he was just cute.  

That was until my burner vibrated against my lower leg. I used my arms to push myself up, excusing myself to take the call. 

“What’s up?” I asked. 

Wade’s voice boomed from the phone. 

“I know a guy that knows a guy who knows-“ He cut himself for the reason I could only assume was because of the crashing noise coming from inside the house. 

“Are you at a party?” 

“No,” I lied for no reason he wouldn’t care if I was.

“I’m not stupid just call me back when you’re not flirting with some fuckboy or high,” He choose to emphasize the last word. 

“I’m not high,” I’m not sure who exactly I was trying to convince. 

“You’re literally slurring right now. Don’t drink and drive kid,” 

“What?” I laughed at his attempt at a lecture or a safety tip whatever that was. 

“Don’t laugh, I'm trying to be a responsible adult. I think it’s about time.” 

I couldn’t remember when or how I got back inside but here I was surrounded by people with music bouncing off the wall fading in and out of consciousness and I had never felt more alone. It was kinda pathetic.

“I’ve never understood that calling people daddy shit it’s fucking weird-“ I cut my rambling off pushing my face against the car window enjoying its coolness. “English is the most unattractive language, like it’s so tame and dull and…” I trailed off letting my head fall back down as I lost control over my neck muscles for a second. 

“It’s just like- I just wanna be able to say-“ I sighed before starting up again “Vous avez l'air très attirant ce soir. Les choses que je te laisserais me faire,” 

I looked away and everyone besides MJ was looking at me with wide eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was because she was driving or the fact I knew she spoke French. 

I realized it was definitely the latter when she spoke back in the same language. 

“Was that directed as a general thing or at Peter?” 

Thank God no one else understood us. I mean it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal I’d just have to endure a bit of teasing but it’s better to avoid the headache. 

“So are you going to let us in on your conversation or…” Harry questioned.

“Shut up,” I spoke to both Harry and MJ. “Drop Peter off first,” That was the last thing I muttered before falling deep into the vast clusterfuck of a land that is my subconscious. 

When I woke up I was on Carmen’s couch with a blanket draped over my waist. I clumsily reached for my phone just texting the last person I texted. To stimulate my mind.  

you: hi are you awake 

I couldn’t help but laugh at how much this seemed like a u up? text but this was in a completely different context. 

It took a minute but he responded.

p😜🤚: yeah are you okay?

you: im fine just bored 

p😜🤚: oh

p 😜🤚: well we can talk if you want too 

I couldn’t help but smile. Ugh what’s wrong with me. I knew better than to ask this because I wasn’t trying to catch feelings anytime soon but my dumbass did it anyway. 

you: can we ft

p: sure 

He apparently did see the cuts on my leg that one time because he just asked me about it. To which I  denied, denied, denied. Salem did it and that’s final. I only did it once anyway so who gives a fuck I’d gotten the urge to do it under control. Like I’d heard somewhere before there’s a difference between thinking about hurting yourself and wanting to hurt yourself. 

“You’re sure you’re okay though?” He asked one last time and I nodded my head. “Okay because I know all these changes in your body can be-“

“Changes?” I interrupted “Why are you making it sound like puberty,” l laughed. I wish I could convince myself whatever these mutations were are just puberty.  

“You know what I mean!” He let out a small laugh.

“Okay but puberty is really weird, why do humans need so much sweat,” I attempted to shift the conversation onto something that wasn’t my physical and mental wellbeing.

 Either Peter could tell I wasn’t going to give him shit or I really was just the master of getting out of things but it worked. I eventually fell asleep and when I woke up he was still on the phone.

“So you’re sending me to bounty hunt a bounty hunter who’s bounty hunting Mr. America?”

“Exactly,” 

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard all day,” 

“Hey you asked me to help you be grateful you little asshole,” Wade teased.

“Fuck you,” I laughed. “How long do I have?” 

“Two weeks top.” 

I hummed before hanging up.

Now the question was to do this alone or to bring someone else. I definitely haven’t been in the most stable of headspaces lately. There could be up to 4 Avengers and 1 bounty hunter. I’d have to be smart about this. I can’t believe that I’m about to say this but I need a plan. 

-Step one: Find Carmen and make her make a plan.-

Step one: Convince Tony to let me go on a solo mission. Giving me a reason to dip while having a whole buncha cool technological weapons at my disposal.

Step two: Disable the tracking in the weapons provided. 

Step three: Get a car.

Step four: Follow bounty guy to wherever they’re going. 

Step five: Take out the bounty guy. 

Step six: Talk to Captain America.

Step seven: Find Thor from Captain America. 

First I’d have to get out of detention. I would’ve been fine with detention if I had my phone. I don’t even know why I’m in here actually. I hadn’t gotten in trouble in a while. I was confused until Tony strolled into the room. Why couldn’t he meet anyone in a normal location just once. He always had to fucking abmush people. 

I had to hold back from rolling my eyes. 

“Yes?” I asked. 

“You said you were up for a solo op right?”

I nodded skeptically. 

“Well I have one for you next Friday,” 

“Go on,” I moved my arms under my torso to rest under my chin. 

It was just a simple drug bust in and out. He must’ve been really bored to go out of his way to try and stop something as miniscule as this. Probably didn’t think it through when he signed those accords. Now he literally can’t do anything without the whole world jumping his dick.  For now he’s living vicariously through Peter and I’m assuming. 

A simple drug bust isn’t something you really need to get ready for. Trying to find and possibly have to fight one Avenger let alone possibly 4 is something you have to be more than ready for. In every way possible. Including mentally.

“I think I want to go back on antidepressants,” I blurted, plopping back down on the couch with a bag of chips. 

“You’re being serious?” Carmen asked, pausing the TV.

“Yeah I mean what’s so surprising about that?” I unpaused it.

She paused it again turning towards me. 

“Why? What happened you said you hated all the side effects and would never take them again,” 

“Guess I changed my mind,” I shrugged “I just told you cause I know you know how to get them ‘s all,” 

“Okay.” She nodded and I could almost see her brain working behind her eyes. 

One thing about long term friends is they know when you don’t want to talk about something and they also know when they need to drop it. In the click of a few buttons on a keyboard I had an appointment with a psychiatrist. The fact she knew my insurance information is kinda scary though. Apparently I passed the test to get crazy people's medicine with flying colors. 

I was in Queens for many reasons, one of them being I wanted to spar with Felicia. She is not a sparring person she likes to fight but only when she has to, but I was able to convince her. It didn’t take much actually. She owes me after all 3:1.

She was sorta similar to Black Widow in fight styles and she was hard to beat.  With Captain America it’s easy, his fighting style is easy to evade, if I just avoid the shield and go for his legs I’d be good. Spiderman doesnt shield his left side when he goes to hit you and relies on his webs too much. Wanda she- I don’t know what she does actually but if I can get her to physically fight me instead of using powers I could easily take her down. That Falcon guy uses his legs a lot so aim for the wings. 

But Black Widow was agile. The strongest of them all because she doesn’t use strength you can tell from the videos I’d been analyzing she movies like a ballerina. Her fighting style is to not have one at all. 

I mean it was scary how similar she and Felicia were; they even both have Black in their name and suits. Despite neither of them being back which is funny. 

I was laid out on the panting. I rolled over onto my stomach grunting as I reached for my knife. I wasn’t done at least not yet. 

I slung my arm towards her and this time she didn’t catch it. I barely grazed her but it was enough to catch her off guard. I was able to get her pinned to the ground for like 15 seconds. 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” I laughed.

“You could never,” Honestly I’m starting to believe that. Even when Olivia and I broke up she never got hostile towards me or anything. And her being hostile towards me is not something I’d enjoy. 

I’d have to be the clumsiest “agile” person I’d ever met. I fell walking down the steps to get back outside. I rolled and landed on my ankle but I’m sure it’d be fine. It only caused a slight discomfort when I put pressure on it. I’m just glad I could walk like this without having Felicia on my ass about it. 

I was already in the area so I decided to stop by Peters house just to see if he was home. Okay in all honesty, I wasn’t really in the area Felicia lives in an entirely different part of Queens. But he said I could stop by whenever and I’d like to say I’m a literal person. 

I winced when I put my foot all the way back down on the ground but I didn’t want to be interrogated. Peter does not know when to drop things. 

“Hey,” I spoke once he opened the door. 

“Hey?” He asked more than said as if he was surprised I was here. 

He just stood there staring for a few seconds too long.

“So can I come in? Or...” I tilted my head. 

“Oh,” He shook his head slightly as if shaking out his thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah come in,” He stepped out of the way. 

We both sat with our legs facing each other on his bottom bunk. Suddenly I became aware. 

Aware of the way I could feel all the fibers in the polyester blanket I sat on.

Aware of each sound around me, the slight wind just outside the window, the faint TV show I could hear from the apartment on the floor above, the air conditioning rattling. 

Aware of how I didn’t remember who I’d been or how where or why. 

Aware of how I had a purpose, how I should look to the sky for answers and when I could not look to the light I must look into our heart. The one collective heart we share. But I could not remember who we were. I wasn’t meant to remember who we were or what we were.

I wasn’t supposed to remember not yet. Not now. But soon or maybe never. They'll never take my power, even if I didn’t understand it yet. It was mine and mine to keep. 

Aware of the faint whisper of my name rang through the air. 

I didn’t appreciate the headache and tightness in my chest this awareness or insanity brought me. I needed a distraction. Not sure why this was the first thing that popped into my head but it was. 

“Your suit can record things right?”

“Yeah why?” 

“Does it record everything it’s around?”

The whispering only got closer and closer. My name being called out with a sense of urgency and grief. I couldn’t see. There was a difference between adrenaline and anxiety and this wasn’t the later. Something was seriously wrong and I had no idea what to do about it. Finally the voice got so loud it could not be ignored.

“Y/N!” I snapped my eyes up and tried to calm my breathing. 

“What?” I asked with more hostility than I intended. 

“It’s just you zoned out and started muttering something. It freaked me out,” 

I had to hold back from showing my confusion on my face. 

“Sorry,” I murmured sheepishly. I don’t know why I felt the need to apologize. It's like I was a walking ball of grief, guilt, and shame but it wasn’t my own. 

I’m not sure how long we sat there in silence before I felt the impending urge to escape but as soon as I put pressure on my foot the shock of the pain shooting to my leg wasn’t able to be concealed. I winced quietly but I know he heard me. 

In two seconds flat he was pestering me trying to figure out what was wrong. I ignored him and suddenly the fraying on the shoelaces of my combat boots was extremely interesting to me. 

“It’s nothing Peter, drop it,” I walked towards his closet. 

“It’s not nothing,” He sighed moving towards me. “Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” 

Because if I told you then you’d tell Tony and I’d get taken off the solo op.

I just looked up at the ceiling and decided to change the topic with something I knew would get the target off of my back. 

“Why’d you never get me arrested?” 

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrows scrunching up his face.

“All the times you came after me as Thorn. You always let me get away, why?” 

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t see you get arrested I guess.” 

I hummed to his answer letting my hands roam through his closet. I picked up a pair of Hello Kitty pajama pants.

“When’d you get these?” I asked. 

He snatched them from my hands.

“Haha go ahead and make fun of me for them. Mr. Stark gave them to me.” 

I simply smiled.

”I was just going to say they were very cute actually ’m sure you looked adorable, but okay,”

I glanced back at him and his face had a light pink glow.

“You’re blushing!” I pointed out laughing.

“Am not,” He lied.

“Are too. I can tell you aren’t used to getting compliments,” I smiled. “That’s too bad though you deserve plenty of compliments,” I looked back up at the ceiling and noticed an attic or trap door. I hopped up a bit and his suit fell down as I hit the door. 

“How does everyone keep finding that?” I heard him ask.

“It’s a very you place to put it that’s why,” I mindlessly answered back.

“You heard me?” 

That’s snapped me out of whatever trance I was in. 

“What? Was I not supposed to?” As soon as the sentence left my mouth I heard a scream.

“Somethings wrong,” Peter announced. So he heard it too?

I felt drawn to it. Like I knew them or something. 

“Uh…” I stalled “I have to go. Sorry,” 

“Okay text me when you get back home,” He rushed out since I’d moved away so quickly. 

I was sure I was limping but the pain wasn’t as prevalent in my mind as the screaming was. I followed it as if it was a compass. I followed it to the middle of nowhere. It was just dry grass and about three trees caged by chain link fences and abandoned buildings. 

Whatever came over me faded as soon stepped off the sidewalk. The screaming subsided into nothing and it was like a tight grip around my chest slipping away. I’m really losing my mind oh my god. 

I couldn’t sleep. I sat in the bathtub all night focusing. I found when I focused hard enough I could move some of the things. It isn’t so much about imagining where you want something to go it was about believing it was already there. It hurt my head to do it though. I only moved about three things 4 inches. 

It was a possibility that I was going through a psychotic break or I could’ve really been moving things with my mind because of whatever radiation was in my body. A few days ago I apparently disappeared after there was a tornado of shampoo bottles flying around. Maybe I did that subconsciously somehow. 

I mean gamma rays literally invented the Hulk wherever he was. Who knows what they were doing to me. 

I eventually fell asleep halfway on and halfway off the couch. How I even got there in the first place I wasn’t sure. I upped the times I needed to go to the gym a day to 3 times. That would’ve been fine. I didn’t have like 50 missing assignments to turn in before the end of the semester. Which is in 2 weeks. 

It didn’t help that I felt like something bad was about to happen. Don’t know what but I feel it coming. I hummed to myself. Okay now back on track. It comes in handy to have smart friends, especially ones willing to help you get your work done. 

“Why are we at the park?” Peter asked as I tucked my legs back to swing even higher. 

“Because if you do work in an unusual place you get it done faster.”

“I’m not sure that’s tr-“ 

“It is true don’t question me,” 

“We're not even doing any work right now,” He pointed out. 

“If you swing higher than me we can start.” I knew he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“Oh, you’re on,” He replied, putting both his hands on the swing’s chains. 

He didn’t beat me. I let him win because I got tired.

“Yeah right,” He laughed. 

“I did! You wouldn’t of won if I didn’t stop, I let you win out of pity” 

I actually managed to get 3 whole assignments done. School can be kinda fun when you have a teacher who doesn’t try to make you feel stupid. It’s way easier when you have the energy to try at all.

 You never realize how much walking you do in a day or how excruciating exercising is until your leg hurts. I was going to let it stop me though. There’s a reason people say walk it off to injuries. 

The entire structure of my plan had failed. Somehow, someone probably Peter, told Tony that I got hurt and I got taken off the solo op. 

After 30 minutes of me being annoying as fuck I got put back on. Only problem now was Peter was coming as a safety precaution.

Step 8: Figure out how to ditch Peter.

Fuck my life. Although everything else was falling apart I’d manage to get 40% of my assignment turned in. 

Friday came in a blink of an eye. I’d be the bait and Peter would just be the lookout. I wasn’t planning on going through with whatever I was supposed to be doing here. I just needed to disable the tracker in my communicator. I guess I was thinking straight because I didn’t hear or even see the guy move behind Peter. Not until I heard him call out.

“It’s a set up!” 

There was one thing I didn’t have to think about and that was running. It was my expert tactic. I knew it wouldn’t be fair to leave Peter. He might think he can take care of himself but he was too naive for his own good. 

“Wait!” He called out and I stopped behind an empty building.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

“Yeah but why-“ 

I interrupted him.

“I need to do something really important and Tony can’t know about it,” 

“Now you can go back but you can’t say a single thing about this to him. Just say the mission went wrong and I decided it was safer to ditch or something.”

I could see the conflict in his eyes.

“No,” 

Fuck. I felt my burner vibrate in my pocket. It was probably Carmen asking where I was. 

“No?” 

“Yeah cause I’m coming with you,” 

“I can’t ask you do to that,” 

“I know but I’m coming or I’ll tell Mr. Stark,” 

I knew he probably wouldn’t but I couldn’t risk the slim chance that he would. 

“Fine…” I breathed out. I didn’t have anytime to argue I’d just ditch him somewhere. 

I saw him quietly cheer. Clearly not understanding the severity of the situation. This wasn't some Vulture thing, this was very highly trained individuals. 

I dialed Carmen again.

“Hey… So we’ve got a plus one,” 

“What?” 

“You’ll see,” 

We were in the car for 12 fucking hours and we still weren’t there. I never realized how much Peter talked until now. We had no form of entertainment besides the radio. Carmen pulled over at a gas station so we could switch off and partially because Peter said he had to use the bathroom. 

While he was still inside Carmen spoke up for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Why’d you bring Golden boy along?”

“Cause I didn't want him to get shot,” 

“Yeah I understand that part. Why didn’t you just like knock him out and dip,” 

“What why the fuck would I do that,” 

“You would’ve done it to anyone else. You’re getting all soft,” She poked my side and I flipped her off. 

“How’s that for soft?” As soon as the sentence came out of my mouth I heard the click of the door opening and it startled me a lot more than it should’ve. 

The rest of the ride was silent save from Peter asking home much longer we had to go before falling asleep. It was about 12 pm by the time we got there. After shaking both Carmen and Peter awake I headed up to knock on the door. 

A girl who looked about Aaliya’s age answered the door.

I smiled at her.

“Is your dad here I have to ask him something,” 

Now I knew for a fact he was here he was on house arrest. I was looking through the videos Peter’s suit had recorded and I found this giant guy at some airport in Germany who I was able to trace back to Scott Lang. 

That one guy who transferred all that money out of Vistacorp back to its consumers. It was pretty badass as far as nonviolent crimes go. 

I could see her playing my question over in her head deciding if she’d have to lie or not. I’m assuming she saw something somewhat trustworthy in me because I was sitting in his house on his couch. Trying to convince him to help me.  

“So let me get this straight. You have telekinetic and fire powers and had a dream that you believe is prophetic and you need me to tell you where Captain America is?” 

“Pretty much yeah,” 

“Okay uh wow,” He claimed standing up. I could tell he believed me. There wasn't a hint of distrust in his eyes. Which is good because I wasn’t lying.

“I want to help you, I do. But-“ 

“You don’t know where he is do you?” 

“No not exactly. I do have something though.” He replied standing up off the couch “Hold on let me get it,” He went rummaging around his house because coming back about a minute later. 

“No luck?” Carmen asked as she read my facial expression. 

I shook my head.

“All he gave me was this,” I held up the plastic plaque. 

“What are we even looking for anyway,” Peter asked. 

I could see Carmen shaking her head signaling me not to tell him. I didn’t. He’d find out sooner or later. I think we were too far from home to ditch him now.

“So are we paying or are we saving the cash?” Carmen asked.

“We can just save it probably let me go check,” 

The hotel was empty for the most part. Multiple rooms to choose from. It was always easier to make a get away if needed from the bottom floor and I chose to break into the one closest to the exit. 

“I call showering first,” Carmen spoke. 

I just waved her off plopping onto one of the Queen beds placed next to the air conditioner. Peter was just standing in the corner like he was nervous or something. 

“First “road trip” or something?” I teased.

“Kinda…” He trailed off as something caught his attention. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going,” 

Might as well.

“To find Captain America,” 

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Wait you’re being serious?”

“As a heart attack,” 

“I don’t think he likes me,” He looked down as he fidgeted with his hands. “I kinda stole his shield,” 

“So I’ve heard,” I giggled. 

I checked the communicator and the bounty hunter we were supposed to be hunting down was still in the same place. This could mean 1 of many things, either the tracker on them is broken or has been found, they found him already, or the whole communicator was broken. 

“Alright I’m done,” Carmen emerged from the bathroom. 

Peter being nice like he always is let me go next. Sometimes it concerns me how nice he is. Like he was planning something just like Canadians they all seem so nice but they’re just as racist as everyone else. But now I’m starting to believe he's just genuinely that good of a person. 

Which is refreshing. You don’t see too many good people nowadays. However the better of a person you are the more room you have to taint. And I knew for a fact I wouldn’t allow myself to be one of those people who did it. 

You know when you’re dreaming and there’s something or someone chasing you and you try to run but you never can. I would say that’s me, my entire essence. I’d been trying to out run my demons for so long never realizing that my only demon was myself. And no matter how bad I wanted to, I couldn’t outrun myself. Trust me I’ve tried. 

I couldn’t outrun the sudden ache moving throughout my body. I could always feel an anxiety attack right before it happened but remained powerless to stop it most of the time. 

Streams of water ran over my body mixing with the warm tears that ran down my face. I’m sure the water pressure overpowered my sobs from outside of the room but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hear the pathetic sounds. 

After my breathing went back to normal I stood in the mirror detangling my hair staring at each mark on my body. Whether it be a tattoo or scar or a mole I looked. I reminisced about the stories behind them, some a lot sadder than the rest. But somehow the marks I couldn’t remember were the saddest of them all.

It hurt to want to go back to life before everything went… just wrong, when you couldn’t even remember what it was like before then. 

It’s like I was numb before and crying felt good. Well it didn’t feel good but you know what I mean. It just felt good to know I could still feel.

I heard a knock at the door shaking myself out of my spiraling thoughts. I sniffled, wiping my nose, before tightening my towel around my waist and opening the door.

The first thing that hit me was the cool breeze of the hotel air conditioning contrasting against my warm skin. The second was Peter looking confused as ever holding some form of cloth in his hands.

“Oh I’m sorry, was I taking too long?” I looked back towards my clothes sitting on the counter grabbing them as if I was about to exit but in reality I still had no clothes on underneath this towel. “You can go hold on,” 

“No! Uh…”

“No what?” I smiled. 

“I came to bring...” He waved around what I could now see was a shirt.

I simply raised my eyebrows at him suspiciously.

“Here,” He thrusted the shirt into my hands. 

I looked down at the article of clothing in confusion.

“Thanks?” 

“I know you left it out here so…” He awkwardly clamped his hands together. 

“Thank you,” I replied, slowly shutting the door so he knew he could back off. For some reason I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face. 

Smiles never lasted long for me. Something weird just always manages to happen every time I’m even remotely happy. 

I was in some form of a prison or detainment facility. There was thick glass everywhere so I’m assuming it was high security. I had the plaque from earlier today in my hand except it wasn’t my hand. Unless I have magically turned white, it was someone else. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this. Feeling like you’re disconnected from your body that is. Like in the Edge of Seventeen when Nadine says she gets this feeling like she’s looking down on herself from outside her body and she hates what she sees. That’s sort of how it felt. 

But this? This felt entirely different like I was in the wrong body but retained my soul, it couldn't be explained. It requires no explanation really if you understand it then great and if you don’t you don’t. 

The plaque had a seam that I hadn’t noticed before and it was hollow inside. I clutched in my right hand and kept walking.

 As soon as I entered a large room extending from the hall. That all too familiar siren sound played through my ears as a bright light stunted my vision. 

I was brought back to my body. Well I guess I just woke up because now I was all sweaty and sitting straight up on the bed like an idiot.

 I made my way to the bathroom and the light made me realize my eyes were glowing and so were my veins. I just blinked it out like I was trying to put contacts in and washed my face. 

Seriously what was happening to me I don’t want to end up like Hulk or Wanda and have everyone scared of me. But whatever this is couldn’t be controlled or understood. 

I woke the others up, as I was trying to figure out how to open the plaque I heard Carmen hiss loudly.

“Why’s the doorknob so hot?” She turned to me “Did you do this?” 

“No? How would I do that?” Maybe I did do it. I did lose my train of thought when I went to open the door. 

Still doesn’t explain the heat part, maybe it had something to do with the fire thing from Staten Island but I hadn’t done that again since that night. I was honestly starting to believe I made it up. 

I reached for a napkin to wipe the syrup off my hands. It was Carmen’s brilliant idea to stop at a Waffle House. All the time we spent here could’ve been used doing something actually productive. 

“So why are you trying to open that?” Peter asked, sliding closer to where I had the plaque laid out on the table. He asks too many questions. I didn’t wanna respond but I didn’t wanna be mean.

“Because,” I grunted as I struggled to pull apart the top and bottom. “I had a dream that there was something inside and now I wanna see if that’s true,” 

“A dream?” He questioned.

“Yeah a dream,” 

“Who was in it?”

“No one was in it,” I started to get annoyed for absolutely no reason. “Just finished your food,” I pointed at his plate.

“Fine…” He slid back over. 

I hit the seam of the plaque against the edge of the table and the bottom popped up. I let out a silent cheer and caught the attention of Carmen.

“What?” 

I flipped the opening over my palm and a rolled up piece of paper came out. 

“Look what I found,” 

“A clue,” Peter spoke.

“It’s not a clue this isn’t some TV adventure it’s just evidence,” Carmen spat. 

I unraveled it revealing a bunch of numbers. I think it’s either a phone number or coordinates. It wasn’t a phone number. I called it and some random Canadian person picked up. So the next option was coordinates.

“Are we sure this is the right place?” Carmen asked. Looking at the stranded house sitting some way down the street.

“If it’s not then oh well,” I shrugged, unhooking my seat belt. 

I leaned down to the slightly cracked passenger window. 

“Do not get out of this car.” I spat through my teeth. Neither of them knew how to listen and I had to let them know I meant business. 

I started towards the house, the gravel crunching under my feet before I turned back again.

“I mean it!” I called out before sprinting back into the house. 

The door creaked open as I pushed it open and I turned back to keep it from closing. The second I did it I knew it was the wrong decision to make. Literally anyone who knew anything about anything knew to not turn their back on unknown territory.

  I was being restrained by some invisible force that wasn’t invisible for long. There were scarlet or crimson waves making my tingle.

 It was more of a tickling feeling than a burning one. That feeling faded into another soon. I clamped my eyes shut, it felt like someone was using my head as a bowl using a spoon to try to scrape my brains out.

 I ended up overpowering whatever force was holding down my arms to hold my head. It was excruciating putting my hand there only made it worse. As soon as I made contact with the skin that loud siren noise like nails on a chalkboard racking through my brain caused me to double over in pain. I saw two legs above me and I heard someone’s voice saying.

“Wanda? What’s going on out there?” 

My vision blurred as I tried to swat at who was allegedly Wanda Maximoff the telekinetic girls legs. The one person I didn’t want to run into was over here melting my brain. I pushed myself up. I think I couldn’t really feel my muscles. I know for a fact my back hit something or maybe something hit my back. 

I heard more footsteps nearby and hushed whispers followed by a who are you and what do you want. I probably would’ve answered if I could but I don’t think I had the current ability to form a coherent sentence. 

“She doesn’t look like one of theirs. How do we know she’s here to hurt us?” I heard someone say. 

“I don’t know I can’t read her,” A voice I hadn’t heard before spoke. 

“What’s that mean?” 

I was stuck in place again. I couldn’t really see and I could feel anything but the tearing of my brain in half and the presence of another body in the room. My eyes were closed but I felt them get closer to me. Too close for my liking. My eyes shot open as soon as I heard. 

“Y/N?” 

I tried my best to lift my head to meet the redhead's eyes. 

“You know her Romanoff?” I heard the first guy from before speak. 

“Sort off?” She shrugged and reached out to pull me up to a sitting position. I let her. 

Romanoff. This was Natasha Romanoff aka Black Widow. She was here with Wanda along with who was most likely Captain America and she knew my name. 

“How-“ I swallowed some of my spit because of how dry my throat is. “How do you know my name?” 

She answered my question with a question of her own. 

“How’d you find this place? Most importantly why?” 

“I asked you first,” I narrowed my eyes. 

She had the audacity to chuckle at my statement. 

I glared at her which turned into some sort of staring contest until it was interrupted by some wannabe comedian.

“Are we interrupting some family reunion here or…” 

I flipped off the general direction of the voice off on instinct. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[neuxue]

The Untamed Episode 19: Hello, emergency services? I’d like to report an attack, by this episode, on me personally

Niche character trope of the day: characters who are Ready To Die, but are too stubborn, too competent, or too damn proud to do so by anyone’s hand but their own.

Because it sets up one of my favourite ways of forcing a character across a threshold: put them in a situation where there is no way out... except one: the unthinkable, the unforgivable, the step-too-far, the rule they will not break. So the choice is that, or death (in obscurity when they need it to mean something, or at the hand of one they do not deem worthy of being their executioner)

And so, ready (prepared and/or willing) to die, given the opportunity to die, given no conceivable way not to die... they will choose survival. ‘Ready to die’ is good. ‘Survive at what cost’ is good. But combine the two, and you get something so much more than the sum of its parts (self hatred! guilt! crossing a moral threshold so what is there now to hold them back! loss of self!). 

And why do I bring this up, you ask?

So that’s. A lot.

But let’s start at the beginning, shall we, because the first thing that struck me about this episode (well, aside from ‘Wei Wuxian you look like hell’) is another series of lovely inverted parallels between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Which is of course fitting because, while it hasn’t been outright stated, I am 99% sure Wei Wuxian has in fact given up his golden core (not quite his life and not quite his self but close enough as makes little difference) for his brother (protect them, at all costs, even your life. And so he does). And so there is something of a zero-sum game here: for one to rise, the other must fall; for one to live, the other must... well, we’ll get to that. 

But we get this really excellent series of scenes back-and-forth, starting with a rather marked visual contrast:

[Good morning! Spot the difference]

One waking up, one cast down. One restored, the other barely alive. One outside, in the light; the other inside, in the darkness. One looking peaceful, rested; the other looking like hammered shit. One dressed for a fashion show; the other dressed like he scavenged rags off a rotting corpse (also is it just me or is his collar crossed the wrong way?). One at home, surrounded by family (even if it is only a dream, and burns down around him); one far away, surrounded by enemies. A fall, a rise.

And it keeps going:

[Don’t forget to say please (do your worst) and thank you (for my life)]

One calling out his thanks to the world, one remaining silent except to taunt his tormentors. Jiang Cheng using Wei Ying’s name and calling out his thanks, not knowing to whom. One at least returned from near death, from despair; the other being dragged towards it. Jiang Cheng finds himself. Wei Wuxian… well, this is after all a series of contrasts.

It’s just absolutely beautiful and absolutely heartbreaking to see Jiang Cheng’s joy on breathing in and finding that his golden core is restored, because his smile is so genuine and it’s set against this scene of Wei Wuxian, helpless and beaten and no one knowing the truth. 

(Well...except possibly Wen Zhuliu. I mean, I have to wonder. He hits Wei Wuxian, and his whole superpower is being able to destroy someone’s golden core, and he doesn’t say anything but Wen Chao mentions him destroying Wei Wuxian’s, and Wen Zhuliu looks...like he’s felt something is a little off here).

[‘Is it him? Or are these gloves too fabulous to feel anything through?’]

And I have to wonder... what exactly was Wei Wuxian’s original intention here, in telling Jiang Cheng to meet him? He looks like death only barely warmed over; how was he planning on hiding the truth from Jiang Cheng? Was he going to make it a last farewell of some sort? But if so, what was his cover supposed to be? And if not, did he really think Jiang Cheng wouldn’t notice? Wei Wuxian is very, very good at not exactly hiding things but at drawing everyone into whatever truth he chooses to present and making it so through force of will and personality, but even then...

He couldn’t have know the Wen clan would be there, right? Couldn’t have expected to be taken? Couldn’t have intended to die at their hands…could he?

Either way, that brings us to… yeah let’s just talk about Wei Wuxian being tortured and how it is a very, very Good Look on him. He’s barely keeping himself upright before Wen Zhuliu hits him and Wen Chao goes to town! He’s clearly Not In Great Shape right now! Probably because he just had his golden core removed and I can’t imagine that was pleasant. And also it means he’s basically defenceless! But does that stop him from mouthing off? It does not! He just. Suffers very well. In pain and defiant is a good look on him.

But it’s more than that: it’s about how he just takes it; how he taunts them, challenges them to do their worst; and how, beaten and unable to stand unaided and lacking the power to defend himself, he manages still to look like the most dangerous one in the room. 

Once, he seized Wen Chao’s whip and said, soft and dangerous, “do not try me.” Now, beaten and bloody and powerless, he looks Wen Chao in the eye and says, proud and defiant, “whatever torture you have, bring it on.” And somehow that’s even more terrifying. Beaten within an inch of his life, without a golden core, surrounded by enemies… but look at him and tell me you’d risk taking that chance.

It is. Let me just say once more and with emphasis. A very good look.

But you can also see just how close to the edge he is. There’s a moment when his smile honestly looks like Xue Yang’s. And then there’s the whole... laughing whilst being branded, black smoke beginning to curl from the pouch at his belt, and he is. This close to just losing control completely. He’s weak and exhausted and hurt, expecting to die and clinging to…consciousness, sanity, life, pride, by his fingernails; he’s so close to coming apart but he’s not going to give them the satisfaction and yet he’s not entirely all there and you see it in these moments.

I have a whole thing about... endurance, I suppose, and so of course literal torture of a character who somehow remains defiant is a lot, but that kind of almost-hysteria, the laughter that is entirely inappropriate and yet unsuppressible, the bordering-on-unhinged laughter that exposes this ragged edge of one whose extraordinary will has been pushed almost too far, is just... it’s a thing, okay?

And still he refuses to give them any kind of satisfaction, because he is beyond their reach now. He can withstand anything, because his pain does not matter. His body, his life, they matter little. So what more can they do to him?

But then, when Wen Chao tells him where they are, flying over the Yiling Burial Mounds, there is genuine fear in his face for the first time.

Wen Chao’s final taunt hits precisely the right mark: “Let’s see if you can keep smiling to the end.” Because that’s the painful side of this smiling, proud irreverence Wei Wuxian has. He can laugh anything off but that is a challenge to the cruelty of the world: to hurt him enough that even he cannot smile through it. Challenged with apparent invulnerability, there are always those who will not stop until they find a way to break it.

But instead of a smile there is that black smoke that once filled his mind with screams and now slows his descent. But in the end even that lets him fall. Which is not, I think, unintentional. This power will not save you, it says. You will fall, it says. And fall he does. (It is not Wei Wuxian’s first fall. Nor will it be his last).

And from there on out, literally everything about Wei Wuxian in the Burial Mounds is. An entire situation and everything I wanted.

All but dead, left to die, forsaken and alone in a place the living cannot possibly survive, wounded in body by torture and in mind by the screaming energy around him and nothing but emptiness where once was a brightly burning soul... and utterly surrounded by the resentful energy he once suggested harnessing and that now seeks to tear him apart.

And just… the utter desperation and the extraordinary endurance as he claws his way forward, holding on to something through sheer force of will because he will not go down like this. He will give whatever is required of him (his hand, his name, his golden core; whatever it takes) and if need be he will die. But not here, not like this, not alone and lost and for nothing. Not at the hands of the Wens, who will not even kill him themselves. No.

All those voices, and that whispered question “do you want revenge” (but also the sorrow and longing and almost hope at Lan Wangji’s gentle “Wei Ying” I’m fine this is fine) and he’s shaking and he can’t refuse but he can’t accept because either way he is lost, but there is no other way out and the voices are in his head and the screams surround him and he is drowning in anger and ghosts and “do you want revenge” and he is so hurt, so close to truly broken, and he needs to hold on to something—

And so, surrounded by resentful energy and restless dead—and what is he, by this point, but resentment and a restless soul near death but clinging on; how far is he truly from a vengeful ghost—how could he resist? He has so little left; he is so hurt and so tired and there’s only so much even he can take, and no other way to survive, and he will not die like this. And so he reaches, and so it replies, and so he finds an anchor and a way to survive but one that may also mean he is lost.

Just. The pain, the grief, the rage, the agony on his face as he draws the sword. And then that sharp, cold, terrifying stillness as he stops fighting it.

[Oh.]

Three Months Later

First of all: three months? That is... not as long as sixteen years, but a long time to be lost and fighting for self and survival in a place we are told, over and over, cannot be survived. 

But let’s set that aside for a moment and instead give Lan Wangji his due, because damn he knows how to make an entrance.

[Lawful good is not lawful nice]

I just love his cold fury, his utter precision, the way with a word (“Kneel”) you know that he can and will end you.

Like here’s the thing: when we meet him first, through Wei Wuxian’s eyes, he seems law-abiding to a fault, uptight and inflexible. But just as we come to see what lies beneath the apparent carefree irreverence of Wei Wuxian’s outward persona, we see what lies beneath that calm stoicism in Lan Wangji and it is. A lot. He really has the whole ‘deadly grace’ thing down and that’s a whole situation.

Also I love how Wei Wuxian held his silence against the Wens when they tried to torture him into giving Jiang Cheng’s location, but it takes like half a second for them to cave to Lan Wangji when he asks where Wei Wuxian is. (But oh, the answer).

I also just love this weird cooperation/alliance/not-quite-friendship between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji. Like? It’s so bizarre? They seem to have virtually nothing to say to one another? They hardly ever even look at one another? And yet they’re acting in almost perfect lockstep from the moment we first see them to when they both ask for an assignment to Yiling. They have absolutely nothing in common except one (1) self-immolating disaster of a human but they are Committed and I am weirdly about it.

Finally, I know Wei Wuxian hates him (or rather, their relationship seems to be a mutual ‘I hate that I have to kind of respect you’) but I actually like Jin Zixuan. As with most of these characters, there is a great deal more to him than meets the eye, and one aspect of that is a rather deep sense of honour. (He just has no idea how to talk to his not-quite-maybe-sort-of-girlfriend).

Wait, I lied, that wasn’t ‘finally’.

‘Finally’ is... the haunting flute music at the very end. I am. So here. For this.

(Next: Ep. 20) (Previous: Ep. 18)

[aknymph]

Our Little Secret~ Part 3

A/N:  I finally finished this, and I finally started an AO3 (aknymph). There is definitely more to come!!! Yes, this has basically been three chapters of smut, sue me. Writing from Aleksander’s perspective was HARD, but I really wanted to get into his head with this scene to show how he experienced Part 2. It starts 3rd person, then switches to first to sort of help get into his head...I know it’s weird, but I think it works?

Characters belong to Leigh Bardugo and The Grisha Trilogy.

**Warnings: mature content, sex, language

Characters: Alina Starkov + The Darkling

Read Part 1 and Part 2

**Aleksander’s P.O.V. of part 2**

Aleksander still wasn’t sure this was happening, but he wouldn’t pause to ponder it, not now. He was going to give her everything he could while she was in front of him, and if it ruined him in the process, so be it. 

He had felt the draw of power before, much like he knew other Grisha were drawn to his power. His centuries in this world had brought him in contact with many individuals with great power, and he’d felt the pull of it. Like calls to like. He’d even felt the draw of power from individuals not quite like the Grisha, those with a power fashioned from something older, but even those people had not understood him. 

There had been other sun summoners, but in his centuries, he’d never come across another shadow summoner. He’d concluded long ago that it was some perversion of Illia Morotsova’s power when he’d passed it to his daughter, and that power had passed to him from his mother-- the power that had always struck a cord of fear. After a time of wishing he didn’t have to be alone, he’d accepted the fear that followed him and his power, honed it to work in his favor. He’d used it to manipulate kings and Grisha alike- fear had been his most powerful ally. But with Alina, it was different.

He was drawn to her. She did have great power, and the amplifiers had added to it. As summoners, their power flowed through the same vein in the world, but where he called to darkness, she called to light. She was his opposite, his mirror.

“Alexsander,” she moaned, breaking me from my revelry as I thrust myself into her. My name on her lips was a prayer I’d never known.

“Yes, Alina?” I managed, not wanting to remove my mouth from her skin longer than required. I wanted to be the one to show her everything. This glorious woman before me had two other men that wanted her, and yet, here I was, the one helping her explore her body. I was the one giving her this pleasure. Still, the power flowing between us was intoxicating, making it increasingly difficult to hone in on anything else.

“I want this, Aleksander. I want us. I want you.” Alina was speaking again. Those words. I couldn’t dwell on them now, but I wanted them to be true, to mean more than her wanting the pleasure of our bodies. I would give her this though, elicit these prayers from her lips for as long as she would let me. I grazed my teeth across her neck and she tightened her grip on my back. I continued down to the base of her neck and raised my eyes to her face. Her own eyes were closed, waiting in anticipation. I bit her neck, pulling a moan from her as her nails dug into my back, marking me like I was marking her. 

“More,” she ground out. I couldn’t help the smile I gave her at that as her desire swept through me. When had this become our way-- her calling forth these subconscious secret smiles? This bond between us was a strange novelty to me, and I granted myself leave to explore it. I ran a finger down her core, following it with tongue and teeth. The salty taste of her skin was divine. Maybe she was a saint. I would worship her as one. I found my mouth hovering over her breast. Longing to tease her a bit, I traced the curve of her with my tongue.

“Aleksander.” It was a plea, spilling from her lips.

“So eager,” I chorused, letting her see the pleasure her words brought me, letting her feel that pleasure coursing through me as I continued my thrusts into her. I couldn’t withhold my own longing though, so I bent my head, licking brazenly up the fullness of her breast. She arched into me then, filling my mouth with her. A moan escaped me. This woman. This impossible woman. I’d lived five centuries, and yet I’d never granted myself such pointless pleasure. There had always been a purpose, a means to be sought, but here, with her, I wanted. A dangerous game indeed.

I loosed my control, sucking her deeper into my mouth as she pressed her bare body against mine. I wanted to feel her, feel all of her. I pulled my knees under myself as I pulled her body against mine, thrusting deeply inside her. I was shocked for a moment, finding her moving then, as if she’d loosed the leash on herself as well and was ready to claim what she wanted from me. There were still so many things I wanted to do to her, but if she wanted to wring her own pleasure from my body, I would let her. She climbed into my lap, sliding herself back around me easily, and pushed her hips forward hard against mine.

“Fuck, Alina.” The words escaped me before I could think otherwise. It seemed that pleased her because she entangled her arms around me. I found I wanted her to take from me, whatever it was she wanted. This was no longer my offering to her; I was laid before her, and she would take from me what she wanted, and I would let her. That realization surprised me. This woman surprised me, and I found I liked that.

I slid a hand down her back, grabbing her ass, and slid my other to her head, entangling it in her silken hair. I kissed her then, slow, tender, lingering. I just wanted to taste her as she wrung her pleasure from my body. I couldn’t have imagined what that tenderness would spark within her. Her movements became rapid, fierce, as she moved her body against mine.

“Oh, Aleksander. Yes, please.”

I used her pleas as a guide to give her what she wanted, to help guide her through this new-found pleasure. I grasped her hips, helping her move on me as her body came apart. We were both panting, working up to our peaks together. I was surprised-- a now common occurrence it seemed-- to find that seeing her pleasure, feeling her pleasure was bringing me so close to my own.  I watched as her body arched and bucked.

“Come for me, my Alina.” I spoke the words gently, not a command, but an instruction, hoping to give her a name for what her body was seeking. Her body shuddered around me, an exhilaration crashing through me as she cried my name over and over.

“Aleksander. Aleksander. Aleksander.”

The sheer pleasure in her words, my name from her lips brought me crashing down with her, spilling myself inside her with my final thrusts.

I held her there, body pressed against mine. I didn’t want this to end, didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want to go back to what awaited us outside this room, outside this moment. But I also found that I didn’t care. I was disappointed to find Alina pulling back from our embrace. I felt the loss of her acutely, but still couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face at the acceptance of what we had done, what we had given each other. She had trusted me, and I her. 

“You’re beautiful, my sun saint,” I told her, tracing my thumb over those tender lips.

Alina blushed at my words, turning her face from mine, having apparently regained her self-consciousness despite our bare bodies still pressed together. 

I couldn’t bare her embarrassment, her refusal to meet my eyes. I touched her tentatively, allowing my hand to gently caress her face, now worried that sudden movements may startle this tender woman before me. I turned her face back toward me, willing my gaze to lighten. 

“Do not hide from me.” I failed to hide the frustration in my voice, and she blinked at my tone. I tried again. I was not accustomed to sincere gentleness.

“Please.”

Her eyes softened then, seeming to understand that there was no anger in my words. But how could I convey to her what I wanted to say, needed to say. Would she accept my words, or would she turn away yet again? 

Her hand rose to my cheek, as if to sooth me. My eyes drifted closed at her touch. I’d thought the experience we’d just shared had been the culmination of intimacy, but this touch, her hand on my cheek, somehow brought us impossibly closer.

I remembered her earlier confession to me, that she wanted us and hesitantly continued on.

“Alina,” I began, failing to remove the pain from my voice, “I don’t want to do this without you. I can, but-”

She was ripped from me then-- there one moment, gone the next.

“Alina. No, Alina, don’t do this. Don’t do this,” I shouted, begged, but she was already gone.

I don’t know how long I sat there, bent over myself on that table. I realized that, somehow, more than my body had been laid bare before her. And it had been too much. I thought what we’d shared had soothed the confusion, the guilt she’d felt at wanting me, at preferring me. I’d thought when she said that she was choosing me, that she meant she was choosing me over them-- all of them. Her Grisha, her followers, her Otkazatsia. I’d been wrong. Foolish, and wrong.

I gathered the scraps of my dignity as I gathered my clothes from the floor, from before the throne-- that throne, that I’d meant to be hers.

As I dressed, I spooled myself inward, allowing my anger, my embarrassment to build my shield anew. I’d lived for centuries. I’d barred myself from this weakness hundreds of years before. This had been a slip, one I couldn’t afford. 

I left the throne room and made my way to the war room in the little palace. This place would be my focus, provide the centering that I needed in this moment. I felt a familiar calm as I strode through those doors, locking myself inside. I observed the table, the maps along the walls, and reminded myself that we were at war. Alina’s actions had been just another ploy, a manipulation that I had used myself hundreds of times with Grisha, with royals, men and women alike. Had this been how they’d felt then, when they realized my actions had been just that-- manipulation?

It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. I had a single focus again. I could no longer allow myself the weakness that was Alina Starkov, Sankta Alina, Sun Summoner, Sol Koroleva. I would shut her out. I must. 

As if thinking of her had summoned her, I felt her presence begin to approach me. An urgency to guard myself against her flooded my mind, and what felt like a glazed shield encompassed me.

This connection Alina and I possessed was unlike anything I’d experienced with another. My knowledge of merzost and of amplifiers led me to believe it was, at least in part, due to the stag’s antlers that we could visit and communicate with each other in this way. Today had been the first time she had visited me though, so I hadn’t considered there was a way to block her, to keep her out.

I could still feel her, sense her presence all around me. I heard her call out to me, as if from a long distance, “Aleksander!”

I could see a figure before me, on the other side of the shield I’d erected. She wiped her hand at the surface, as if to clear a fogged glass, and I found that the haze began to give way. Was it her will or mine that allowed the barrier to fade? I inspected the haze, studying the feel of it, and clamped down on any lingering curiosity I had at why Alina had returned so readily. I’d made my decision, I would not allow myself this weakness any longer. The barrier turned a gleaming, sold black. Obsidian. My lips quirked up at that. There, Alina, I thought. Break through that. 

I couldn’t hear her anymore, but I could still feel her, the essence of her, on the other side of that wall I’d built between us. Her power reverberated over it for a few more minutes, and I assumed she must be hammering her fists against it. I felt what seemed like a gasp of despair from the other side of the wall, and then nothing. 

The absence I felt at the loss of her presence did not hold the satisfaction I’d hoped.

...At this point Aleksander decides he’s back to playing dirty since Alina must have used him. Oh, silly Aleksander. Where is the trust?! That’s it for now, but I’ve already started drafting some other things for this ship, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stuff!! xx

[louist00]

Fandom & Fan Activism

What is Fandom?

A fandom is a subgenre of fans who communicate a sense of empathy and camaraderie with those who share a common interest. Fans are typically interested in even tiny things of their fandom's objects and devote a large amount of time and power to their involvement, often as part of a social network with specific practices, distinguishing fandom-affiliated people from those with only a genuine interest.

Furthermore, fandom can develop around any human interest or activity. Fan interest can be narrowly defined, focusing on a specific celebrity, or broad, encompassing entire hobbies, genres, or fashions. While the term is now applied to groups of people who are interested in any subject, its origins can be traced back to those who have a strong interest in sports. Merriam-dictionary Webster's dates the term is used back to 1903.

Other than that, a fandom is a mutual group of active fans, and what it means to be a fan varies by member. Participating conventions and getting dressed up in costume to a midnight showing of their favorite franchise, for instance, or creating their own media to accompany a fandom are two examples. Other people may describe it as asserting about Twilight versus Harry Potter or whether DC is similar to the MCU. Whatever it is, being a fan means being a part of a society (Deperna, 2019).

Examples of Fandom

Some of the best acts of fandom in 2019 that embody the spirit of genuine human connection (LCC, 2019) :

Waffle House Helps Communities during Natural Disasters

Spectrum Employee Builds Fandom through Kindness

David Byrne’s American Utopia Builds Fandom through Performance

What is Fan Activism?

Fan activism is a new area of study that examines how organized communities of fans work together to promote diversity, education, and other focal community psychology topics. Fan activism is defined as groups of fans working to make a difference in the world through their favorite pop culture topic. (Hellekson, 2018) Fandoms are groups of fans that have been found to be culturally and environmentally active.

In other words, Fan activism is when fan groups engage the core fan base of a particular television show, book series, movie, comic book, sports team, etc. to effect political change on social issues by establishing similarities between pop culture and the modern life. (College, 2019)

Examples of Fan Activism

Thousands of Liverpool fans walked out of Anfield in protest of ticket pricing, making it the first walkout in the stadium's 132-year existence. Following the announcement this week of a £77 match ticket (up from £59) and a £1,000 season ticket for next season, supporters' organisations organized the action for the 77th minute of the match against Sunderland. The club claims that the new structure, which includes 45 percent lower match ticket prices, 64 percent lower or unchanged season ticket prices, better local fan availability, and about 1,500 £9 tickets for category C games, provides improved accessibility and affordability. (The Guardian, 2021)

That is all from me and thank you for reading my blog.

References

College, C. 2018, ‘Fan Activism’, SPARK Movement, viewed 16 May 2021, <http://www.sparkmovement.org/agenda/fan-activism/>.

Deperna, P. 2021, ‘The Fandom Dictionary’, Vocal, viewed 16 May 2021, <https://vocal.media/geeks/the-fandom-dictionary>.

Hellekson, K. 2018, ‘A Companion to Media Fandom and Fan Studies’, The fan experience, In P. Booth (Eds), (pp. 65-77). Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.

LLC, F. 2019, ‘Best Fandom Examples of 2019’, David Meerman Scott, viewed 16 May 2021, <https://www.davidmeermanscott.com/blog/best-fandom-examples-of-2019>.

The Guardian. 2021, ‘Liverpool Fans’ Walkout Protest: Around 10,000 Leave in 77th minute over ticket prices.’, viewed 16 May 2021, <https://www.theguardian.com/football/2016/feb/06/liverpool-fans-walkout-thousands-ticket-price-protest>.

[crunchykiwibby]

Core Four

Hi! After days of my antics i had decided to show my drawings for my redrawn Descendants next to outfit clarification/ idea for my fanfiction (+ analysis because I love fashion analysis! I watched one episode of the topic and I'm hooked now-) also sorry about the poor camera quality I'll digitalize it soon 😭

So here's them all together:

So what they have in common is the use of patterns and somewhat baggy(ish?) clothing whether it's from the top, ( Carlos, Evie) or by the pants ( Jay, Mal). The next use is pictures or patterns which is pretty predominant in Mal's side of town ( The inner city/ a good most of the Isle except anywhere near the coast. Which is known to be Uma's side of town.) 9 times out of 10 you would see a lot of painted clothes with patterns or designs, pieces of leather or cloth in clothing that can form a pattern or pictures. It is very popular on the Isle to wear gloves, bandages, and something you can at least move in because sometimes certain areas get congested and you might have to jump from a building time to time, run away from a troll, or fight. Also it's good to wear clothes that hide stuff you stole or hide weapons compared to Uma's side of town where you kinda just casually have a dagger or sword out. The inner city fashion is a mix of military, grunge, and goth depending on where you are. And it also reflects in the fanfiction in their Auradon fashion which I'll describe later. Their outfits together all clash but it's unified in one shape or pattern which also presents their friendship.

MAL

So Mal doesn't have fear as she usually doesn't worry about being randomly shanked out of nowhere. Seen here I kept her purple/ green aesthetic but I used a very minium of pink which was her top which was magenta. Her outfit is quite girly tomboyish. Her top is a repurposed binder that she cloth dyed and painted green flames on. I did this changes because she's more of the rambunctious one in the group next to Jay so her clothes are fitted in the purposes of movement next to the fact of her always stealing and running away which I felt that the leather jacket limited her upper body in her og design, I do love the leather don't get me wrong! But it's more practical in fall/winter (assuming that it's pretty tight) than spring and summer which is when my fanfiction takes place. However the use of leather is shown in her pants as the her pockets is dyed leather. Her hair is more blunt like cut and a deeper purple more toward her hair in D3 (Which was the color I like the most) but it's not a long asymmetrical bob it's just a blunt cut bob and she keeps it that way for a while. She aims for that casual militant fashion a lot, as some of her outfits won't look like what is the one above since she's not jumping place to place in Auradon would lean towards edgy and militant for a while until Coronation and later in the series where it leans more like EGIRL/Prep as her hair gets longer and is just plain black and cut again so she would wear a baggy clothes with combat boots in darker shades of purple and green while some of her shoes consist of designs of her own graffiti in the earlier parts and eases slowly into more to skinny jeans and a shirt that's stuck in with some canvas shoes. You notice how her outfits would present a very dominant leader energy because her outfits would stand out a lot when she stands with the group. Reflecting her always in control and assertive role as leader in the group. Whether in maybe the graphics on her shirt or the pattern until later where her and the core four all equally stand out in their own ways but not clash with one another and she's not trying to outshine any of them. So her style choices in the beginning reflects how she sees herself more of a pawn to her mother and more of someone was placed in charge due to her mother's orders which makes her prone to have a harder time shifting from that mindset in the beginning.

EVIE

Her outfit is very male gaze oriented, intentionally as presented on how she was raised so how she dresses is out of place for normal people on the Isle that live more in the inner city as she dresses more for fashionable and what the Isle consider Auradon like. However don't get it twisted because her outfit is quite practical than one thinks. Her outfit is a dress with attached shorts that is hard to see due to her dress because she dresses in a way for the male gaze. Her sleeves are utilized in a way that she can keep weapons. Any weapon. Same applies to her dress skirt the cut is makes her capable of sneaking in a knife or something same rules don't apply to her purse as it just keeps makeup and a mirror in hand for quick access. Her dress is pretty tight at the waist as her mother always say "tinier the waist the better" and the closest thing of love she got from her mom is that she complimented her waist so her outfits then on compliment her waistline. Her colors are still blue and red as her mother thinks that what works because Snow White but later on she will have mementos of her mother's colors of red, black, purple, greens, and gold albeit jewelry or clothing pieces. Her shoes aren't made for any parkour. Most of her shoes are heels. Mother says a girl in heels fluctuate the legs. Her hair is in the braid as it makes her face pop out more, it represents also the strict beauty guidelines she follows due to her mother's influence so her hair will always be up and tight until later on she starts wearing it loser to present how confident she is in her skin. Her hair leans towards a black blue color it's has a blue shine if you see it in the sun which has a slight color reference to her D1 hair mixed with D3. As a result her Auradon fashion can be formed with ease as it's a easier transition since she dresses like that before going to Auradon so her outfits would be very reflective of what's popular in Auradon without the prep, so she would wear dresses but they would be in darker colors and have a few spikes. Of if she was wearing a skirt it would be a synthetic leather. Her fashion is edgy prep until later in the series where it's still edgy but has a color tune up a bit. Her outfits will very much reflecting of fitting in Auradon as much as possible and try to appeal to the male gaze in Auradon as she would try to look more modest and muted compared to everyone in the group until later on she's comfortable of being herself as she dresses more for herself and wears what's fashionable and what makes her comfortable than what her mother thinks. Her outfit choices reflects more of her needing to be approved by others which makes her have a wavering confidence in what she wears forming into her wearing clothes she would never be caught dead wearing but has to so she gets her mother's and other's approval until she realizes that she lives for her not anyone else.

JAY

This dude knows he's a little shit. So he dresses like one. His is simple and it reflects that he needs to have places to store a box cutter and a cheap necklace. He's all about practicality. He hates and I mean HATES anything that prevents him from moving in absolute precision. There is no leather on him besides his pants which are similar to Mal's with the leather accents. Now his hair is long and just up until later he wears is down often and is just styled. So his Auradon outfits will reflect Mal in some form, it's different because it leans towards athlesiure, jock, and skater in many different ways until later he leans towards athlesiure and jock with a sprinkle of skeeter fashion with brighter colors and more simplicity so not a lot of patterns or graphics. His earlier outfits will always be outshined by Mal. No matter how similar it can be it will always be outshined by Mal. His outfit choices shows how he just goes along with Mal because that's who he knew the longest next to the fact that he doesn't crave the same need for power and leadership as Mal does he just in it for the loot and his mindset isn't about teamwork it's just what works for enough for him to get his share until he notices that he gets and works enough to get his share but...he isn't noticed that also made sure everyone get theirs, just somewhat ran over just because everyone assumes he doesn't care when he does or take it for themselves so they get brighter and become separate and drastically different from Mal making him shine.

CARLOS

His outfits are practical yet fashionable like Evie's but simple. He wears anything that makes him blend in blend in. He blends in so hard that Evie stands out more than him. His clothes are very two sided like his mom's hair but he only literally have one outfit since being on the Isle and what was in his bag of stuff when he went to Auradon was like a few inventions and games and some pictures and his oversized jacket and finally getting new clothes given by Evie and some new friends he makes as seen worn here because he doesn't really go out. His hair remains the same and just gradually gets longer and he can place it in a ponytail. Which if posted on his friend's stories just looks like a maltese ponytail. His Auradon outfits are simple and blends in more better in Auradon than Evie's. He mostly wear button up shirts with some pants or sweater. He just is scared and a lot of his clothes represent security in the beginning so some of clothes would be bagger than others until later he becomes more secure and wears clothes that reflects his newfound happiness and security which is more fashionable and what's popular with Auradonian boys while being himself. As with such with the two-sided clothing from before it also presents what his personality is like really in real life, and his oversized jacket is washed its a pure white jacket. He's witty and comical and iconic while also being anxious and terrified. So his outfit choices reflects him coming out of his shell show what more of him meets the eye making him be the iconic king he is.

I hope that this analysis makes sense 😭 please let me know if it doesn't! Also i would like to hear some suggestions because ironically fashion is also not my strong suit and I'm worried that I made them too ooc but know disney i probably wasn't far off smh-

[orionsangel86]

75 Must Watch Supernatural Episodes in preparation for Season 15

As you might recall, a while ago TV Guide posted an article about their choice of the top 75 episodes of Supernatural to watch as a catch up of the series before the final season. 

I read that article, and found myself absolutely horrified at many of their choices and outraged that many of the all time best episodes (including ones extremely important to the story) were missed off.

Everyone has their own opinions of course, but when I disagree with something that much it tends to motivate me to act out of pure spite - I do love a good spite motivation - and so I have made my own list, for the fandom, of the 75 absolute must watch episodes for anyone who wants to understand the integral story of Supernatural.

I have to hand it to TV Guide, whilst I adamantly disagreed with their choices, I admit that this was EXTREMELY DIFFICULT and having to sacrifice some of my faves so that I could include others that were more important to the story HURT, but that’s how it is.

Full list under the cut. Let me know what you think of my choices and my reasons!

1. Pilot

You cannot start a series catch up anywhere else, and we have to include the pilot episode. Introducing us to Sam and Dean, and setting up the story including the back story with the family tragedy. You just can’t beat a good old fashioned female fridging for man pain. *jokes*

2. 1x06 Skin

I feel like Skin is an important episode to watch as it is our first real look at Dean’s psyche as a character, where we start to realise just how much he is hiding behind his tough macho man exterior. The speech by Shifter!Dean to a horrified and confused Sam is heartbreaking and very revealing. 

3. 1x12 Faith

This is still hands down one of Supernaturals best episodes. It was also the first time Kripke started considering a bigger mytharc involving faith and Christianity. We can all thank this episode for planting the seeds that would later give us the hugely popular character Castiel, and the hugely successful mytharc plots of Seasons 4 and 5. Also, one of the best music moments from the show with the “Don’t Fear The Reaper” chase scene.

4. 1x14 Nightmare

This episode introduces us to the Special Children story line which was of paramount importance to the first two seasons. It gives us the first glimpses of Sam’s powers to come, and is also the first time we get some hints of John Winchesters abuse of Dean.

5. 1x18 Something Wicked

I chose this episode because it is the first time we get to see more of Sam and Dean’s childhood, and how horrific it was - especially for Dean. A brilliant episode that once again clearly demonstrates how John Winchester is not a man to be messed with. If at this point you aren’t itching to call child services on his ass you probably need to read up on your understanding of child abuse.

6. 1x22 Devils Trap

The Season 1 finale gives us the show down between John Winchester and the Yellow Eyed Demon Azazel, some heartbreaking moments between father and sons, and a cliffhanger that leaves Baby and Dean both broken.

7. 2x01 In My Time of Dying

I love this episode. Dean’s out of body experience at the hospital, Sam’s grief, John’s deal, Tessa’s introduction to the show. C’est magnifique!

8. 2.05 Simon Said

I just think Simon Said is a great episode that further develops the special children plot whilst being both funny and dark at its core - classic SPN.

9. 2.15 Tall Tales

Our introduction to Gabriel - well, to the trickster as he is known here. This episode is gloriously funny and a must watch!

10. 2.21 All Hell Breaks Loose: Parts One and two

Okay I’m cheating a bit and putting these two episodes together, but in my opinion they count as their own feature length episode as you can’t watch one without the other. The climax of the special children arc, the deeply emotional Sam death scene and Dean’s bedside vigil, and Dean selling his soul. This two part season finale packed a lot of punches and is a definite must watch.

11. 3.03 Bad Day at Black Rock

How can anyone forget Sam’s run of bad luck in this hilarious episode. He LOST HIS SHOE!

12. 3.10 Dream a Little Dream of Me

This is another must watch episode for the deep dive into Dean’s psyche. We also get more of a backstory to Bobby Singer, but the real brilliance happens when Dean spends part of the episode talking to his own dark mirror, revealing all sorts of subconscious fears and insecurities on his part.

13. 3.11 Mystery Spot

I couldn’t not put Mystery Spot on the list. This infamous episode of Supernatural will have you singing “Heat of the Moment” over and over again whilst sympathising with poor Sam every time Tuesday comes around. Don’t let Dean eat the funny tasting tacos!

14. 3.16 No Rest for the Wicked

In lots of ways, Season 3 was a weak season. It was drastically shortened due to the writers strike at the time, and Kripke & Co didn’t get to tell the story they initially planned for, instead they had to come up with an alternative which gave us this dark finale in which Dean is condemned to hell. That can’t have been a fun hiatus for fans watching live... Still, it was a memorable finale and that is why it is on my list.

15. 4.01 Lazarus Rising

This episode. Here begins Supernaturals “golden age”. Enter Castiel, Angel of the Lord and future fan favourite right up until 2k19. How many people out in the world saw that now famous entrance and immediately fell in love? 

*holds up hand*

If you do nothing else, and you’ve never seen a single episode of Supernatural before, just watch this one, and I guarantee, I GUARANTEE, you will want to keep watching.

16. 4.07 It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

The problem I have with season 4 is that I want to put basically every episode on the list. To this day it remains my favourite season of the show (and not just for the extreme DeanCas sexual tension). I kept this episode on the list simply because I love the Halloween theme, I love the frankly horrifying Samhain, and I LOVE the journey that Castiel goes through in this episode alone. Bonus points for Sam Winchester fangirling over Castiel proving he is no different from the rest of us. :P

17. 4.16 On the Head of a Pin

I say season 4 is my favourite season, and On the Head of a Pin is one of my all time favourite episodes. This is Supernatural at it’s finest and it’s not surprising as it was written by the great Ben Edlund. It is a perfect blend of horror and angst as we watch every character painfully spiral downwards. Sam hungrily drinks Ruby’s blood much to the audiences horror, Castiel faces his internal and external conflicts as all starts to unravel in the heavenly plans, and Dean plays a terrifying game of wits in an outstanding performance with the demon Alistair, his hellish torturer. It was a performance that Jensen Ackles should have won an Emmy for in my honest opinion. This episode has forever ruined the song “Cheek to Cheek” for me, but it was so worth it.

18. 4.17 It's a Terrible Life

It’s one of the classics. This AU world in which the angels flex their power over the Winchesters is another well loved fan favourite and quite frankly deserves to be here purely for the hilarious scene that many office workers all over the world would wish they could reenact as Sam quits his job in the most Sam Winchester way possible. 

19. 4.20 The Rapture

I had to keep this episode here because it is so important for future story lines. As Castiel gets closer to Dean, heaven takes action and we meet Jimmy Novak, Cas’s tormented vessel, and in Castiel’s own future words “his greatest regret”. It’s a deeply emotional episode that proves even angels have their dark sides.

20. 4.22 Lucifer Rising

The Season 4 finale is still one of the most epic in my opinion. Sam and Dean’s dramatic fight in the episode before has left them both vulnerable to the angels and demons that are manipulating them for their own purposes. Ruby’s villain reveal speech is still one of the best, and as she shows her true colours to a horrified Sam, Dean makes an angel fall for him. In every way. 

21. 5.03 Free to Be You and Me

This episode is another classic and many fans of Destiel would put it among their top episodes. As Sam and Dean go their separate ways, Dean grows closer to a now fallen and socially awkward Castiel.

22. 5.04 The End

Another epic from the mastermind that is Ben Edlund. The End has inspired much extremely angst ridden fanfiction over the years (and a very romantic song in a future musical episode) and is notorious for breaking fans hearts the world over. As Dean is unwillingly sent to a future apocalyptic world, he meets his harsh and brutal future self, and a drug addled hedonistic human Castiel. The most memorable and painful moment being his confrontation with a sharply dressed Lucifer wearing his brothers face. Tears flowed freely from fans the night this episode aired. 

23. 5.08 Changing Channels

Changing Channels is another of those infamous episodes that even non fans of SPN are aware of for it’s sheer lunacy. Sam and Dean once again find themselves up against the trickster aka the archangel Gabriel, who puts them into a TV world where they must “play their roles” in order to survive. 

Highlights include Sam’s herpes commercial and Dean’s heart eyes for Doctor Sexy MD. 

24. 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon

Dark Side of the Moon is a beautiful episode. The race through heaven and through each Winchester’s memories gives us a far greater understanding of their complex and troubled relationship. The heartbreaking scenes of Dean’s heaven with his mother that Sam could not be part of were especially painful to watch. The climax reveal that God wasn’t listening and Castiel’s subsequent loss of faith only added to that heartbreak. Another must see episode.

25. 5.18 Point of No Return

As is the case with season 4, it was so difficult not to just put every season 5 episode on this list. I do think that both seasons just need to be watched in full to truly grasp how brilliant they were. Point of No Return needs to be on this list though because this episode is the breaking point, the tensions remain high throughout as each character makes desperate choices as they all spiral towards the Endtimes.

26. 5.22 Swan Song

Swan Song is often considered the number 1 top episode of Supernatural. It is always at the top of these “rank the episodes” lists in the media, and that is why it is on my list too. It is brilliant in many ways, but if I am being completely honest it doesn’t even come close to the top of my own personal list ranking SPN episodes. It is certainly emotional, and there are some extremely heartbreaking scenes. Lucifer plays his hand, Dean plays his right back with the power of love, Sam makes his swan dive. It’s heartbreaking, it needs to be watched, but the “endings are hard” meta moan by Kripke always felt slightly too pretentious for my tastes. Don’t make excuses dude, this episode didn’t need them.

27. 6.11 Appointment in Samarra

I’ll be honest, I didn’t like season 6. Whilst some of the individual episodes were good, the mytharc was weak and I think the season struggled to find it’s feet for many episodes at the start. I didn’t like soulless Sam, preferring my Sammy to be the compassionate caring sweetheart he always was before. That being said, Appointment in Samarra is a brilliant standalone episode simply because the character of Death is so very compelling. Dean’s time playing Death was fun whilst also being a deeply emotional exploration of cause and effect in the universe. It’s a must watch.

28. 6.15 The French Mistake

I couldn’t not put this episode on the list. If Season 6 did one thing right, it was this ridiculous episode.

29. 6.20 The Man Who Would Be King

The only other thing Season 6 did right. 6x20 is Ben Edlund’s masterpiece and without it, frankly, the entire mytharc plot of the season would fail miserably. This beautiful episode told from the point of view of a hugely conflicted Castiel not only birthed an entire new generation of Destiel shippers, but canonically confirmed that Castiel’s every decision was motivated by his love for Dean. 

*Ouch my shipper heart*

30. 6.22 The Man Who Knew Too Much

The season 6 finale is on this list purely for two characters: Sam and Cas. Sam’s journey to put himself back together inside his own head is as enjoyable as it is emotional. Castiel’s spiralling through into utter villainy is simply soul destroying - especially for those of us who are heavily invested in this character. 

31. 7.01 Meet the New Boss

I had to keep the season 7 premiere in this episode as it is the only hint we have of what could have been an AMAZING season story line! Sadly, it was not to be, and Castiel’s run as God lasts this episode only before a very misguided showrunner wrote him off the show (thankfully she saw reason and brought him back dramatically later on, even though the damage and huge drop in ratings was already done.) Worth watching purely for enjoying a power drunk Castiel wipe out a homophobic preacher - he really doesn’t like those homophobes!

32. 7.10 Death's Door

The first time I watched Death’s Door I sobbed for 20 minutes straight. Bobby Singer was the best father Sam and Dean (and Castiel at times) could have ever had, and this heartfelt goodbye to the character as he fought against his reaper and his own memories really packed a punch.

33. 7.17 The Born-Again Identity

The episode that turned it all around. The Born-Again Identity sees a desperate Dean take a chance on a mysterious healer to help a haunted Sam. That healer turns out to be everything Dean has been waiting for. Castiel’s dramatic return to the series answered both Deans, and many fans, prayers. 

34. 7.20 The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo

The introduction of Charlie Bradbury was a must on this list. She immediately became a fan favourite with her upbeat quirkiness. Created to be an avatar for fandom in many ways, she was a breath of fresh air compared to the previous fan avatar the show introduced us too who the less we mention the better. This episode was a lighthearted fun episode in an otherwise downright depressing season.

35. 7.23 Survival of the Fittest

It’s a must watch for the dick jokes alone. In all seriousness, I like this episode, even if it is another weak finale compared to others. The dynamic between Dean, Sam, Meg, and a Castiel who isn’t quite himself, is enjoyable, even if the villain of the season isn’t all that interesting.

36. 8.02 What's Up, Tiger Mommy?

Where the season 8 premiere focused on the present day, and what Sam had been doing in the year between the season 7 finale and now, episode 2 focuses more on purgatory. Dean’s time in purgatory desperately hunting for an AWOL Castiel is definitely worth the watch, especially when their purgatory reunion was so heartbreaking. Bonus points for Sam being worthy of Mjolnir!

37. 8.07 A Little Slice of Kevin

I make no secret of the fact that Castiel is my favourite character in Supernatural, or my love of Dean and Castiel’s relationship. This episode is on my list because Castiel’s return to the real world and an emotional Dean gets my fangirl heart pounding. This episode must use every romantic trope in the book on these two heartbroken dumbasses and it will always be a favourite.

38. 8.08 Hunteri Heroici

This episode is another one of my favourite. The boys finally bring Cas along on an otherwise regular monster of the week hunt, and it is hilarious. Not to mention the hunt is extremely loony and for that reason alone, it is a must watch.

39. 8.11 LARP and the Real Girl

The reintroduction of Charlie Bradbury is a delightful episode where the boys get a taste of LARPING. This is one of those memorable episodes where we get to see the Winchesters both out of their element, and also embracing a bit of fun outside of their normal dark lives. It is a joyful episode to watch.

40. 8.12 As Time Goes By

An integral episode that ends up being a game changer for the show. Thanks to a time travel spell, the boys find out their grandfather was part of a secret organisation. This episode is a must watch for the introduction of Abaddon, the Men of Letters, and the Winchester’s new home base that will see them through to the end of the series - the Bunker.

41. 8.17 Goodbye Stranger

Goodbye Stranger is one of those episodes that will break your heart and leave you screaming. Castiel finally breaks free from heavens grasp - but what broke the connection?

42. 8.23 Sacrifice

I adore the season 8 finale. Crowley’s confession, Sam’s heartbreaking speech which kicked off a long ongoing arc over the next 6 seasons exploring the darker side of the Winchester’s codependency, Metatron’s betrayal, and Castiel’s fall to humanity. The final scene with the angels fall to Earth is beautiful and emotional and I just love everything about it.

43. 9.01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

The season 9 premiere is another deeply emotional episode which explores the aftermath of Sam’s trials to close the gates of hell. Sam is once again on deaths door, but Dean has ideas to save him - and his choices drastically affect the course of both brothers, and Castiel’s, lives for the next several seasons of pain and downward spirals into darkness. 

44. 9.06 Heaven Can't Wait

The first ever episode written by our angst goblin king Bobo Berens and what a first episode it was. This episode was like a twisted mix between tragedy and romantic comedy but it worked brilliantly. Fans of Dean and Cas both laughed and wept at it’s perfection. It also was the episode that birthed a thousand fanfics thanks to one well placed “fanfiction gap”.

45. 9.11 First Born

This episode is one of the highlights of Season 9, with a brilliant performance by Timothy Omundson as Cain, this episode sees Dean make the terrible mistake of signing a contract before reading the terms and conditions. Bonus side plot of Sam and Cas getting some Bunker bonding time.

46. 9.18 Meta Fiction

This Castiel focused episode from the genius mind of Robbie Thompson is another must watch. The villainous Metatron manipulates Cas into playing a role in his own scripted story. Bonus guest appearance from fan favourite Gabriel adds to the appeal of this episode. (Following the season 14 finale I can’t help but wonder if this episode had some influence on the current writing team - could we even call it foreshadowing?)

47. 9.23 Do You Believe in Miracles?

The season 9 finale was another very strong episode which must be watched if only for the huge cliffhanger ending. Dean spirals into his own darkness under the effects of the Mark of Cain, and pays for it with his life. Thankfully Crowley is there to make things “better” and take the wayward Winchester under his demonic wing.

48. 10.03 Soul Survivor

Like many others, I feel that we were robbed of a longer Demon!Dean arc. I also feel like the show could have gone far darker with the character given everything we know about poor Dean’s psyche. Whilst episodes 1 and 2 took a lighter touch the demon, Soul Survivor was as close as we got to a truly evil representation of Dean and this episode shook me with the truly brilliant yet terrifying performance Jensen gives us. 

49. 10.05 Fan Fiction

Fan Fiction is one of those episodes that you will either love or hate. Created as a love letter to the shows fandom, Robbie Thompson poured his heart into this episode and I do think it is a necessary watch even if just for the beautiful rendition of Carry on Wayward Son at the end. Some may find it cringeworthy in parts - many in fandom don’t exactly like the show drawing attention to their “dirty laundry” and I don’t think anyone will forget a fangirl telling Dean Winchester directly that “you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X” nor the break-the-forth-wall look Dean gives the audience upon hearing that. Nevertheless, we can officially say that both Destiel and Sastiel have been mentioned directly by the Winchester brothers - funnily enough Sam seems totally cool with the concept of hooking up with Cas; Dean though, well, as the saying goes “the lady doth protest too much”.

50. 10.14 The Executioner's Song

Like with First Born, this episode is a must watch for Timothy Odmunson’s performance as Cain, and how brilliantly he and Jensen work together. A haunting and tense episode with a heartbreaking conclusion. It’s dark and deep and pretty damn epic.

Bonus Episode Shout Out - 10.16 Paint it Black

I am not actually including this episode in the list, as it is a generic MOTW for the most part. But I do want to give it an honorary mention for one scene in particular. If you are new to the show, and are planning on using this list to catch up, then for this episode, go to YouTube and search “Supernatural 10x16 Dean’s confession”. TRUST ME. If like me, you love analysing Dean’s character to death, his church confession in this episode is like being given the key to figuring out the meaning of life. 

51. 10.22 The Prisoner

I have chosen this episode over the Season 10 finale because this episode depicts Dean’s spiral into total darkness, whereas the season 10 finale always felt like a particularly weak episode to me. Following Charlie’s horrific (and highly controversial) death, Dean lets the Mark of Cain consume him and goes on a killing spree. The ending of this episode ripped my heart to shreds as Castiel promises that he will stay with Dean forever, only for Dean to beat him to near death and only stop at the last minute thanks to that final shred of humanity left in him. If the shot of a bloodied and heartbroken Castiel staring at the angel blade that narrowly missed his head doesn’t make you cry, then I don’t even know why you watch this show.

52. 11.04 Baby

Another fan favourite told from the point of view from the Impala which at this point is definitely its own character and so much more than just a car. Baby is an extremely well put together episode which confirms that there is more than a little bit of magic in that sleek 1967 muscle car.

53. 11.11 Into the Mystic

Into the Mystic introduces us to Eileen Leahy, a character who we all immediately fell in love with, and not just because she is literally PERFECT for Sam Winchester (yes I ship it), but also because she is a badass female hunter and this show is most definitely lacking badass female hunters. It also keeps us on the edge of our seats as Lucifer disguised as Castiel infiltrates the bunker and manages to trick Dean. Epic stuff.

54. 11.17 Red Meat

A well known controversial episode, Red Meat penned by Angst Goblin Bobo Berens delves into the darker, more toxic parts of the Winchester brothers relationship, and highlights just how horrific their codependency has become. Love it or hate it, you can’t deny that it highlights that these boys have some serious issues, and this episode marks a turning point from which both brothers, but especially Dean, start to move upwards, towards a more healthy bond.

55. 11.18 Hell's Angel

The fight to save Castiel from Lucifer’s clutches would be so much easier if the depressed angel actually knew how much he was loved by his Winchester family. Unfortunately for him, Dean is a dumbass who never uses his words. Hell’s Angel is heartbreaking but a must watch if you have any doubt in how much Dean Winchester cares for his angelic guardian. Lucifer’s mockery of his desperation is a particularly nasty knife twist, but then again us fans lap this stuff up. 

56. 11.20 Don't Call Me Shurley

The dramatic return of Chuck AKA God. Another must watch episode which explains in some way what the hell God has been doing all this time, whilst Sam and Dean fight to save a small town from a deathly supernatural fog. The tear-jerking song “Fare Thee Well” sung by Rob Benedict at the end not only foreshadows God’s “death” at the end of the season, but also the departure of fan favourite writer Robbie Thompson from the writing team. Emotional indeed.

57. 11.23 Alpha and Omega

The season 11 finale marks the first time in the shows history that a finale doesn’t have a single death. The uplifting ending in which the boys manage to save the world and reunite God and his sister is a one off for Supernatural, especially when it ends with another shock character resurrection - symbolising a new direction for the show and a new showrunner. This was an epic finale that I thoroughly enjoyed.

58. 12.01 Keep Calm and Carry On

The Season 12 premiere saw the return of Mary Winchester, an awkward introduction with a shocked and overjoyed Castiel, and a dramatic race to save Sam from the British Men of Letters. It sets up a far more human mytharc plot than the previous seasons world ending battles between Gods, but with Mary’s introduction, and Andrew Dabb at the wheel, the story is about to get a whole bunch more personal.

59. 12.10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets

One of my all time favourite episodes, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets gives us a very small peek at Castiel’s pre-Winchester past, and his beautiful female former vessel (no matter what form Castiel resides in, he is always beautiful - a fact referenced in show almost as often as out of it!). It also confirms that no matter how much Cas and Dean may bicker with each other, no one else insults Dean Winchesters angel and gets away with it! Bonus points for long suffering third wheel Sam Winchesters epic bitch faces and eye rolls throughout.

60. 12.11 Regarding Dean

This episode is one of those rare beauties which gets the balance between humour and heartbreak just right. As Dean rapidly loses his memories under a witches spell, Sam and Rowena fight to save him. Regarding Dean explores deep themes including Dean’s loss of childhood innocence at a young age, and how a life shrouded in darkness has effected him. Pure heartbreak. Bonus points for THAT scene on the bucking bronco. 

61. 12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)

Another all time favourite, directed by our very own Richard Speight Jr in a highly stylised homage to Reservoir Dogs and other Tarantino movies. Castiel takes the role of Mr Orange in this gruesome tale, much to the distress of Mr White AKA Dean. One absolutely devastating love confession later and there isn’t a dry eye in the house. DO NOT SKIP THIS EPISODE.

62. 12.19 The Future

The episode that shook the fandom to it’s core thanks to one tiny moment. A desperate Castiel makes some bad decisions, but not before first using Dean’s love for him against him. The knowledge that Dean at one point made a tailored mixtape of his favourite Led Zeppelin songs and gave it to Castiel as a gift BROKE ME. To this day I am still not over this information. To this day I cannot quite get Dean’s soft voice saying “it’s a gift, you keep those.” out of my head. Just remembering the scene as I write this makes my heart flutter and I STILL can’t believe that the writers took the show in this direction. It’s beautiful.

63. 12.22 Who We Are

This heartbreaking episode reveals the importance of Mary’s return to the show, as Dean goes into his mothers own head to try to save her from brainwashing. A truly epic performance from Jensen Ackles (once again) in which Dean finally admits his own burdens, explains how he was robbed of his childhood, and how he was forced into the role of parent to his younger brother when he was 4 years old. Ah that character development is truly delicious. 

64. 12.23 All Along the Watchtower

The season 12 finale packs a lot of punches. The imminent birth of Lucifer’s nephilim son causes a rift in the universe, opening a doorway to another world. As the tension builds to a dramatic conclusion, Lucifer plays his hand, unwittingly trapping himself in the AU world with one beloved character, as another sacrifices himself and a third tragic death leaves Dean shattered and broken on the ground. 

65. 13.01 Lost and Found

The season 13 premier was everything I have ever wanted from a Supernatural episode - namely PAAAAAIN. The last 10 minutes of this episode in particular had me ugly crying into @margarittet and @tinkdw‘s laps. In fact, every time I rewatch this episode I cry again. As we are introduced to Jack, we say goodbye to Castiel, and my god, I will never get over watching Dean Winchester wrap the body of his angel in preparation for the pyre and try so hard to keep it together. Same Dean. Same.

66. 13.05 Advanced Thanatology

Where Lost and Found broke my heart, Advanced Thanatology stamped on the shattered pieces until the final seconds in which it magically pulled me back together again. This episode was the climactic end to a 5 episode mini grief arc for Dean who just couldn’t get over Castiel’s death. In this episode, we realise just how badly that death has affected Dean, as he foolishly risks his life in his desperation for any kind of win he can get. Episode highlights include a brilliant performance from Billie who has assumed the role of Death as she knocks some sense into Dean, and the final dramatic return of Castiel, proving that “it’s never too late to start all over again”.

67. 13.06 Tombstone

Following 5 episodes of extreme angst and pain, the audience is finally given some relief in this joyful episode which sees the reunited Winchesters take their new son on a trip to cowboy country. Honestly it’s worth watching purely for Castiel’s attempt at playing cowboy to make Dean happy, and Sam Winchesters knowing looks as he pointedly calls out Dean’s dramatic 180 turn from uber depressive to ecstatic happiness following his angels return to the world of the living. Bonus points for this episode getting the hashtag #brokebacksupernatural trending on Twitter. 

68. 13.10 Wayward Sisters

The episode that should have kicked off a whole new spin off were it not for the idiotic decisions of a group of suited white guys with no concept of what decent TV is nowadays. Yes I’m still bitter, Yes Mark Pedowitz can go to hell. Wayward Sisters was a brilliant episode that gave us a whole new generation of badass hunting women, and a story that I was 100% invested in seeing more of. It’s a damn tragedy this never got picked up for its own series.

69. 13.16 Scoobynatural

I can’t write a list of top episodes without adding Scoobynatural. The three Winchester boys find themselves zapped into TV land and meet the Scooby Gang. This episode was just hilarious and brilliant. Bonus points for Castiel’s bond with Shaggy and Scooby, and only a minor deduction for Dean’s over the top flirting with Daphne.

70. 13.21 Beat the Devil

In true Supernatural fashion, as the end of the season gets closer, the tension builds to extreme levels. In the apocalypse world the Winchesters try to find and save Jack and Mary, but Lucifer is on their tails. An unexpected attack leads to a highly traumatic and shocking scene in which Sam is killed and a distraught Dean is only pulled away from further danger by a terrified Castiel. The final scene of this episode in which Lucifer resurrects Sam in a truly horrific display of power over his former victim and vessel is haunting and brilliantly acted by Jared Padalecki. The fear he radiates around Lucifer being the only thing that allows me to continue to take the devil seriously at this point in the show. 

71. 14.08 Byzantium 

I know what you are going to say, I have skipped a BIG chunk of episodes in my list. I have to be honest here and admit that the season 13 finale was possibly one of the worst episodes in Supernatural history and I can’t in good conscience add it to this list. I also think that the writers struggled to pull themselves back up to the high standard of early season 13 after that dreadful finale, so the first half of Season 14 always felt a bit dull for me, however Byzantium does make up for it, in it’s emotional story of how Sam, Dean, and Castiel all deal with the death of their son. The highlights of this episode have to be the scenes in heaven, where Jack reunites with his mother Kelly, and Castiel finds them both in her own piece of paradise in another tear-jerking scene. Castiel’s deal with the creature from the Empty leaving Cas fans everywhere horrified and distraught, but also rather excited at what exactly may trigger the deadly deal. Hopefully this plot point will be picked up next season, as it is definitely highly anticipated.

72. 14.10 Nihilism

Another dream episode for any Dean fans who like to analyse his beautifully deep and layered psyche. Sam and Cas must dive into Dean’s mind in order to free him from the archangel Michael. What they find is worth several essay’s of analysis on this fascinating and wonderful character. Dean’s bar; surrounded by symbols and hints of his life and a very apt song put on repeat - Will Dean ever get his rainbow ending? Only one more season to go until we find out.

73. 14.14 Ouroboros

Following all the drama and separation of the Winchester family, they finally all reunite in this episode to hunt a gorgon. I always prefer the episodes where Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack all work together, and this episode explores the group dynamic perfectly. The gorgon is a charismatic villain who taunts our heroes and has them all fighting to keep up with him. Put it simply this is just a fun episode and exactly what we want from our MOTW episodes in the new Supernatural era.

74. 14.15 Peace of Mind

Just like the previous episode, Peace of Mind is simply one of the more fun and enjoyable episodes of the season. So much so in fact that I have probably re-watched it a dozen times because I loved it so much. In a rare team up between Sam and Cas, they find themselves stuck in a Pleasantville type place. Hilarity ensues, and poor Sam gets himself stuck in a 1950s style marriage and a sweater vest. Castiel reads some raunchy erotica and enjoys it. You will find yourselves laughing at “H-E-double hockey sticks” for hours afterwards. A must watch lighthearted episode in an otherwise dark season.

75. 14.20 Moriah

The season 14 finale was certainly one of the more epic finales we have had, and a meta masterpiece penned by showrunner Andrew Dabb. As Dean’s anger and grief following Mary’s death only deepens, and the rift between him and Castiel continues, it is Sam who discovers that all this time, for their entire lives, they have all been nothing more than characters in a world created by a cruel and manipulative writer God. Chuck’s return and reveal as the villain of the entire show came as a shock to many fans who saw him as a beloved fan favourite, but to many others, myself included, this reveal harmonises this entire story and the Winchesters long and traumatic journey and blows my mind at just how perfect it all is. God Was Never On Your Side, and this has always been a show to stress the importance of free will in a Godless world. 

*chef’s kiss*

Bring on Season 15.