#they needed someone to play the part on a theater play

[hbosscreations]

I've sat on this for several days, because your analysis makes me feel feelings as a theater gay, and I think that you touch on exactly why Ride the Cyclone gets to have this conversation and Spirit World (and other modern comics don't).

Marketability.

People like to act like musicals are 'super niche' and not something that the average person will engage with, but that's not really the issue here, the issue is money. Musicals can make bank if they take off. Anything that makes it to a major stage production can generally be assumed to be raking in enough cash to pay everyone back and then some, and musical theater people will promote and encourage people to see the show no matter the cost.

Theater people are drama llamas. We LIKE laughing, crying, and being made to think after a show. A theater person will talk about their favorite show for years. Will see it as many times as their wallets will allow, and there's money to be made in a big enough production.

Ride the Cyclone gets to talk about death and sex and teenage pain because musical theater is allowed to be a vehicle to tell meaningful stories. When you go see a show like Ride the Cyclone, you're there BECAUSE it's about a bunch of teenagers begging to be brought back to life.

It doesn't necessarily matter if the show makes millions of dollars either, because in this day and age small acting companies record things and put them on youtube and use things like patreon and kickstarter to fund passion projects. Starkid is my favorite example of this. The passion is a huge part of it, and marketing allows theaters to make their money back.

Comics in the two major companies DC and Marvel though, have an industry that has been poorly managed since at least the 90s. Can't speak for creators like Image or IDW or whatnot, but I can tell you that the balancing act for DC and Marvel to try and make money has been TERRIBLY run and managed for a long time. Margins are pretty thin on traditional comics.

Which means they need to sell lots of stuff, pay their employees less, and cash grab as much as possible. It's why event comics are so common, why tie-ins are so prevalent, and even why they don't bind all the tie-ins together a lot of the time when they put collections together.

DC wants to make maximum profit, and that means making their stuff as bland as they can to appeal to as many people as possible, not realizing they are shooting themselves in the foot.

John Constantine is a fantastic example of this problem. He's in every crossover they can stick him in, because he's a cool character and he's fun to play with, but he's never treated with the dignity and depth his early comics demand. Why? I think it's because most of DC's current audience is American and they are afraid of alienating anyone by choosing a side on anything, and therefore not getting their money.

God forbid the horror comic series about a queer, burned out punk, a man who fully believed in the principles he stood behind but never had the ability or drive to try and make them happen, be about politics and queer topics. We cannot stand for anything or we risk sales being bad. We can't talk about real world topics, people don't want to read that in their escapist fantasy, even though different people get different things out of the concept.

I actually think that's a big reason Dead in America is suffering. It's not ABOUT anything. We could have had a discussion about racism that the earlier issues so CLEARLY wanted to talk about, but we might risk upsetting someone who reads the comics, that's why we have so many 'rural' stories about bad white people in the run. 'Rural whites' don't read comic books, after all (It's bullshit, but their numbers will show this, because people like me who live in rural areas have to get comics from ebay or from a reseller website because we don't have local options). We could have talked about John's complicated feelings about fatherhood, but that might hurt someone's feelings. We could talk about queer topics, but...well, that I'll blame on Spurrier not knowing or caring about queer culture.

It's why the New 52 and Rebirth stories are...not great. They're the aesthetic of Hellblazer and John Constantine, but they don't have any of the bite that the original run has. I have read the OG Hellblazer twice now and there are comics I am HAUNTED by in the best way. I can't think of many stories that have come out in recent years that have done the same thing.

Xanthe, as you've mentioned in another post, is a very generic 'asian' character in design. I didn't realize this at the time, but once you pointed it out I couldn't not see it anymore. Their character isn't really risky at the time of publication. Their backstory seems made to make numbers on tumblr, the relationship with their family only exists for screenshots to get people talking and buying. I bought it for Constantine, but also because I was pulled in by the dinner scene and Xanthe seemed interesting from the few panels we got.

And this HURTS characters like Xanthe when it comes to future appearances. I remembered Spirit World fondly because it was bland and harmless, but I read it once when the trade came out and never read it again until your post about it because it was bland and not actually engaging. My memories were fond, but I didn't think about it. It had no longevity or real thought to the world-building it wanted to create. Pretty art, lots of action (too much action), no real substance.

This story should have been Xanthe's debut instead of a crossover/teamup, detailing their cast roster, setting up future antagonists and potential enemies to become allies. It should have been about a person trying to rationalize being alive and dead at the same time and what that means, it should have talked about what death meant culturally.

Being Asian-American and having that dynamic around death would be an interesting deep dive on its own that might have fueled more readership. Instead, it seems to have left the target demographic ambivalent at best and unwilling to engage further at worst.

Why was Cassandra Cain in the story? She's Asian. Why was John Constantine in the story? He's queer. Neither character felt well written on the second read through, and more to the point, they were superfluous (and frankly I find it a little insulting that someone at DC went, well, she's popular and Asian, throw her in there).

And you're right. Xanthe will show up in team books occasionally they were in an issue of Birds of Prey recentish, but they were also paired with Constantine again. They'll be background art, they might even die in an event if they get a decent fan following specifically so they can be brought back in a super special single edition, and then be forgotten for a while.

It's a shame, because if Spirit World had the love and care to the themes it claimed to the way Ride the Cyclone did, maybe Xanthe could have been the flagship character for a new generation of readers, but we'll never know now.

I don't think I've treaded any new territory here, everything I've said, you've said better and far more succinctly, but I definitely understand your perspective better now. Apologies for the long, long rant.

Spirit World, Ride the Cyclone and Death. A weird comparative analysis

Gonna combine my musical nerd and cape comics fixation together for a rambling meta thought. I've been reflecting on how taboo the topic of death is in media after getting into Ride The Cyclone (highly recommend watching the slime tutorial and Waiting in the Wings' documentary on it) but also contrasting that musical with how Spirit World handled similar topics.

Both stories cover characters whose lives were cut short from a tragic circumstance, but while Cyclone directly talks frankly about how each character uniquely grieves over their lost life (and eventually accepts death)- Spirit World uses death as largely an aesthetic to a generic fantasy superhero adventure.

[spoilers for Ride the Cyclone and Spirit World]

Spirit World is about non-binary, half dead half living Envoy Xanthe Zhou, as they go into the Spirit World with John Constantine to rescue Cassandra Cain Batgirl. They eventually go toe to toe with the spirit of a bitter dead poet.

Ride the Cyclone is about 6 choir teenagers who die in a roller coaster accident in their small town. In the afterlife, they are given the chance to vote which one of them they believe should be resurrected.

For Spirit World, do we even know how Xanthe feels about being "half dead"? What does that even mean? They died as (what looks like) a 3 year old, and have clearly aged 15 more years since then. So they can age? Do they need to eat or drink (they're seen with a drink in a Pride comic)? Xanthe keeps mentioning they're half dead and half living, but the comic doesn't seem to want to discuss what that means. How would Xanthe feel that they were essentially given a job as an Envoy the minute they died as a very young child? Was this even a choice?

We've already covered the numerous plot holes in Xanthe Zhou's poorly thought out backstory so I won't go over that again. But honestly apart from the thematically loose "the dead shouldn't be forgotten" moral, a lot of how death is presented in Spirit World feels so superficial. When Xanthe is formally introduced as this cool character with a giant sword hanging around a gravesite, fighting all these hopping vampire creatures... this scene would play out the same if you swapped the setting with a forest and zombies as bad guys.

The Spirit World is less an afterlife for the spirits to move onto and more an MMORPG setting for our superheroes to travel across and fight generic evil beings and encounter eviler, bigger, boss battles at the end. Then there's the poet clout villain whose problems are just easily solved by Xanthe promising to remember her. I've already covered what a lost opportunity thematically this character was in my last Xanthe essay, but this time I want to contrast her with Ride the Cyclone's Jane Doe. I also want to compare Xanthe with Noel Gruber afterwards.

Ride the Cyclone's musical numbers follow each character performing a song reflecting their wishes, and musings on life (this sounds depressing but the musical handles all this with comedy and wit), hoping to prove themselves as worthy of a second chance at life. Of the characters, Jane Doe is the mysterious odd one out. The accident decapitated her, leaving her to enter the after life with no memories and the people of the living unable to identify her.

You might see where I'm going with this. So in Spirit World, Wan Yujing was this famous poet mourned by an entire empire. She only goes monster mode when a handwave-y "time erodes all" happens in the Spirit World and she is eventually forgotten- so she becomes desperate to demand to be reincarnated by the Jade Court. Because her clout ran out. Again, I already made the critique in my previous essay that this villain would better link to our protagonist if she was a queer poet whose poetry was being purposefully straight washed as an act of queer historical erasure. But I want to bring up how truly unsympathetic this villain is. She gets Shakespeare levels of clout but still demands more because she isn't getting reincarnated fast enough. Xanthe promises that as an immortal "half dead half living" person that they will remember Wan Yujing, so she too can be immortal in some way.

I think about all the Jane Doe-s in the Spirit World who don't get to be famous poets that have Empires remembering who they were. People who died anonymously without a past. In Cyclone, the main character chooses Jane Doe as the person who should be brought back to life. Our cast of teens come to terms with the fact that while it's tragic that their lives ended shortly, they conclude "to say that if one dies young, they die needlessly... that is to discount the years we had. We had a life, she didn't. That's my vote." Since Jane Doe has no memory of who she is, it's only fair that she is given that second chance.

I get that Spirit World is choosing these "larger than life" characters as villains, but it's at the expense of their own supposed themes. Of all the people to die and face off our hero as the villain, a character who's essentially an influencer but somehow has an entire empire forget about her anyway feels thematically hollow.

Modern Superhero comics are suffering from a specific problem right now; they're not really about anything. Characters don't feel like people with interior lives informed by the context of who they are. Class, race and bigotry are only touched upon as lightly as possible. Queer characters are now Pride ads with no personhood or flaws. They punch gentrified crime and fight for no one in particular. Even recent adapted media such as My Adventures with Superman and Caped Crusader follow this. Superman fights white-washed xenophobia, while Batman fights gentrified, white-washed classicism. It's why comics like Superman Smashes the Klan, Catwoman Lonely City and Alan Scott Green Lantern stand out so much. It's been a while since these characters talked about anything that matters. Don't get me wrong, slop that's about nothing exists in every industry. But when these characters and worlds historically used to have more bite- it's especially obvious.

If I could be playfully conspiracy theory-like for a second; I believe Xanthe Zhou was pitched so that DC Comics can buff out their Pride Anthology or AAPI anthology with a new younger character. The company will give this character one limited series, but that's it. Xanthe will appear in the larger DC universe whenever big magic plots happen, but that's it. Maybe they'll get a YA graphic novel. I would love to be proven wrong, but the problems with Xanthe are baked in the dough.

Because they don't feel like a person, Xanthe feels more like an industry planted Pride ad. They're designed to be the most palatable and marketable image of Asian androgyny. They literally have no flaws to grow out of, and their backstory makes no sense. They weren't built to be a sustainable solo character.

So I want to contrast Xanthe Zhou against Noel Gruber from Ride the Cyclone. Because they're both queer characters whose lives were cut short at a young age.

In a dramatic lament, Noel Gruber expresses how if he had a chance to live, he'd want to live the horrible cinematic messy life of a French sex worker woman in post-war France. He struggled as the only gay boy in a small town and never got to kiss a boy before he died. It's a look into a queer life that could've been lived, one with all the messy texture and self destruction Noel couldn't have but desires. We get to see how death and queerness intersect into rich, unflattering, gender-messy themes. "I want to be that fucked up girl." Noel sings.

But what's Xanthe's deal? They died as a 3 year old, got brought back, avoided their family at all costs for 15 years, and then had a transphobic confrontation with their family when they're invited to dinner way later. If Xanthe grew up in a transphobic household, how did they ever figure out they were non-binary when they were 3? Could they even verbalize it? Or did they instead figure out their queerness after they died? But how is that possible when they already held a level of familiar resentment towards their family's transphobia as if they've had several fights about it? It's hard to picture a 3 year old having multiple heated debates about gender with their parents for this level of resentment to make any sense.

Details aside, how does Xanthe's queerness intersect with themes of death and grief? Well, it just doesn't. This scene ends with Xanthe's sister telling them that she bothered remembering them even though their parents moved on from their death (which makes no sense since the parents wanted to have dinner with a random 18 year old they correctly assumed was their long dead "daughter" but whatever). Honestly, the only reason queerness exists in this family drama is so that Xanthe has a tense relationship with their family. The story would be exactly the same if Xanthe was a troublemaker that brought shame to their family. Who they are isn't specific to whatever grief exists in the comic.

When people give the critique that modern Superhero comics aren't about anything anymore, we usually think of these comics as "lacking political bite and commentary". We don't often think of something like Death to be political. And even though it is in many ways, it's also a social taboo to talk about. Death is an uncomfortable thing to confront, even in the safety of fiction. It's what made Ride the Cyclone such a difficult stage musical to market.

So how does a modern mainstream comic like Spirit World fit into that? It just sits there in this non-committal way. Yes, this is a story about a trans teenager who died, but only in a cool Superhero Origin Way, not in any way that would make readers uncomfortable. Bury Your Gays is a stereotype after all, so we can't talk about how queer people feel about death. We don't get to know how Xanthe feels about death as a non-binary Asian American. Especially if it's messy. It's the reason why Wan Yujing's character can never commentate on themes of historical queer erasure. God forbid superhero comics be about something.

I think about how, in the original Hellblazer run from the 80s, John Constantine had an elderly gay friend who was diagnosed with AIDS but was killed by a homophobic hate group. The comic openly talks about the sheer amount of gay people dying of the epidemic, a looming threat that informs John's queer life. It's such a culture shock, to contrast these early comics with how John Constantine is written in Spirit World. A character stripped of his own queer history and is at the mercy of incessant slutty bi jokes. Where is the desire to talk about how death informs a queer person's life? The mourning of a lost generation to the AIDS crisis? Something John lived through?

How about how any of this intersects with being an Asian American queer person? Queer people of color are often erased or purposefully excluded from queer history and communities. As a Queer Asian American, what does it mean to have identities that are often perceived to be in conflict with each other? Would your queer Asian ancestors even be remembered? Cultural differences with how you'd mourn your communities? But answering any of these questions means an uncomfortable conversation for Spirit World. For Xanthe. It threatens to be about something.

Which makes it all the more silly that, of the two stories, a musical about teenagers dying from a rollercoaster malfunction is more willing to have that uncomfortable conversation. You should ride the Cyclone.

[cup-of-wine-glass-of-tea]

Hehehehehe

It can't really be me posting something without...

Ya guess it

✨✨72's snufkin ✨✨

Plus Baldkin cus I also love him so much.

And....yeah. I-I drew 72's snufkin as the nutcracker prince....cus....I don't have an excuse I just love the nutcracker so much 😂🤣

Besides, he looks very handsome on uniform 👀💕👌

Tagging @hunsa-jars cus, my pal gets mey love for this man Xdd 👏👏✨

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[riverfelloff]

ive seen so many people wondering how starkid makes such good straight couples (lautski, paulkins, etc), but i think we really need to talk about this.

in a lot of todays modern media, shows centered around straight couples are heavily focused on the sexuality of it. while they may take a few episodes to flesh out a small pining story, starkid takes that to a whole new level.

let's look at lautski for example; our first introduction (I KNOW HE WAS IN TGWDLM AND BF I DONT CARE HE WASN'T TRULY INTRODUCED UNTIL NMT) to pete and steph was nmt2's episode, 'abstinence camp'. sure, we know that sexuality played a big part in this episode, but if you pay close attention, you know that nothing ever actually happens between steph and pete, they get caught by lumberaxe and then boy jerry before they can do anything.

before then, though, we get a back story of them meeting, it's shown how steph likes him for his little quirks and oddities, and how pete is happy that someone took the time to get to know that about him. before they join showers, they talk for what feels like forever, going back and forth.

however, in nerdy prudes must die AND the guy who didn't like musicals BOTH, neither of the couples even kiss, they get close but they don't. even npmd which centers around two high school seniors over the course of a few months, not even a peck on the cheek. HOWEVER, in scenes like the summoning, we can see steph and pete both trying to hide the other behind themselves.

in tgwdlm, paul sends himself into the theater to go take down the meteor so emma has some hopes of a life.

while it's implied that they love the other in a romantic sense, it's never outright said, because you don't make romantic bonds in the situations they were in!! they made the romantic connections before the actual plot of the musical gets started!! they're so close and care so much because of the shit they went through together!!

the reason why we're so captivated by straight couples from starkid is that they don't have to be couples to show how close they are and how much they care, because at the end of the day the lang brothers know that a bond is deepest when it's pure. if you care for someone enough, you'd do anything to keep them happy, even if it isn't with you.

[glassrowboat]

Lights! Camera! Headcanons! Reca.

SFW collection of silly HCs!

- Little Miss Frog is only ever oiled by Reca. He doesn't trust anyone else to be as thorough with her joints as he is.

- Reca has multiple hats for his favorite assistant director, it's just the one we see her wearing all the time is her favorite

- If for some reason you ever needed to switch shoes with Reca, he would gladly do so. After all, what kind of love interest would he be if he couldn't even do that much? The only problem is that he looks better in your heels than you ever have.

- He has a pair of shades with a print of old TV static on the lenses. They are not practical at all but he still uses them.

- This man does not know the meaning of the word subtlety

- You're getting atrocious petnames 24/7, to the point you even begin to think he's forgotten your actual name. It's always love muffin this, honey bear that- and if you ever jokingly refer to yourself as one of them it might as well become a part of Reca’s daily vocabulary.

- He has had multiple people in the past pointing a remote at him to see if they could pause the YouTube play button in his eyes. Now, whenever he sees someone holding one close to him, Reca just snatches it because he's that fed up.

- The button can change, but he's never telling you how it works.

- “The mystery only compels you further to my character, sweetie pie.”

- Please do not trust this man with cooking. He's more of an order in kind of guy and trust that that's preferable over letting him near a stove, oven, or even a microwave on some days. However, he will set the table and clean the dishes for you- it just might take a while because he's busy editing a script.

- Has picked up tons of little facts over the years from all the research he's put behind films. You could ask the most random questions and he'll undoubtedly have an answer- even if it concerns you how he knows how to dispose of a full body.

- On that note, Reca knows a good handful of the meanings behind names, so when someone introduces themselves to him, he usually ends up deciding if that “meaning” fits their character.

- Usually, it doesn't.

- Aka: Crew members

- It's easier that way.

- Those who are a regular part of his filming crew all carry earplugs with them now as a habit after having to listen to Reca's …excited shouting.

- He disapproves of relationships amongst the cast. There's always going to be issues working with people, but he doesn't need the entire film getting pushed aside because one couple had a fight! It’s utterly nonsensical to bring that onto his set. Save that for after everything has wrapped up.

- Anyone listen to Distractible and Markiplier’s entire stunt with lenses? Reca's worse. That's your only warning.

- After your first kiss, when Reca was walking back home, all self accomplished, he jumped up and cracked his feet together- completely unironically. He's not even ashamed about it, either.

- If Reca didn't start on Broadway as part of the crew, then he at least had some experience with it. (He was the theater kid in school). He knows a good couple of songs off the top of his head at this point, and when this one particular song comes on, he always has to stop himself from dancing.

- Owns a gramophone, but it only works half the time. Reca claims it's part of its charm….

- You've watched him mix redbull and coffee together only to drink it all down in a single sitting, then walk away without an explanation. That entire night he was yapping in your ear excitedly only to fall asleep on top of you as soon as it hit 4am.

- Reca tends to repeat the stories he's told you. He just loves them so much that he gets a little ahead of himself and forgets which ones he's shared, that's all. Plus, with his flair for the dramatic and tendency to add in a new line or two, it keeps things fresh.

- Reca affectionately pinches your nose using that baby voice of his. It’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture, in his own way, but it just comes across as annoying.

- Reca will pick you up and spin you around (just like the movies) but at the same time this man will happily let himself flop into your lap with a hand to his forehead so he can lament to you about his woes. Usually, this just means he wants attention.

- He gets busy with filming a lot, to the point you both can go up to a month without really getting anything more in than a one minute call. Usually, Reca is running around during these, or he's so close to passing out after a long day that you're left with the sound of him snoring on the other end of the line.

- Because he's famous, there are actually a good couple of edits and images of Reca made into memes you see when scrolling online.

- His handwriting is comically large. To the point it takes up so much space, Reca might as well be writing a signature instead of scrawling down notes to ensure he doesn't forget a fantastic idea.

- He writes his 7's with that little line crossing it.

- Reca is the type to grab your shoulder while he's laughing. And he does this whether you know him well or not.

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

happiness is a butterfly

(gif credit to junkfoodcinemas on tumblr) :-)

cooper adams (trap)/f!reader (5.5k wc)

summary cooper keeps his promise to return your security clearance card after escaping police custody

content warnings smut, unsafe sex, morally dubious main character, mentions of murder and violence, guns, not really cheating but still kinda cheating i guess, dark i guess but everything is consensual

i know that this is like a twisters blog but i needed to get this off of my chest i don't have any other blogs sorry to everyone who has my post notifications on i'm in love with josh hartnett fun fact. i actually giggled out loud in the movie theater when he took his shirt off it was kind of humiliating. this is named after the lana del rey song, but has notes of velvet crowbar and dark but just a game too.

When you and everyone else you worked with were informed that Lady Raven’s show was going to be used as a rouse to catch The Butcher, a man who had been keeping everyone you knew awake well into the night for quite some time, you weren’t so sure that you were equipped to handle the responsibilities that you were being given.

Most people, when asked to picture a security guard, didn’t picture you. You weren’t intimidating, physically or in terms of your personality. You were rather disarming, but that unassumingness made you an asset because you were equipped to handle threats, you could fight back if need be, and you knew that most people would feel comfortable enough around you to not worry about doing something wrong like they would around a big, strong man.

That was the whole point of your role at the arena, you were undercover security. If you needed to take someone down, you were able to do so. If you needed to call something in, you were able to do so. It wasn’t exactly a unique position, plenty of security personnel worked in plain sight. Up until that meeting, you weren’t even so sure why so many people in your life were so concerned that you were putting yourself in danger. 

You’d claim that it’s ‘really not even more dangerous than being a secret shopper at Target’, and for the most part, you never really got put in super dangerous situations. You were allowed to escort people off the premises, and if someone did get a little aggressive, there was often a way for it to be handled without you getting hurt. There were so many procedures in place that you were never worried. 

It was difficult to not be worried when you were told that you were going to take part in taking down a serial killer, someone who you knew was killing people indiscriminately. Someone who you were being told was partially your responsibility, as security detail. When you were given your card, you felt as though it was going to play a part in your life in some way. You were just under the impression that way was something simple, though. It was important because it was going to be there during a day that you could tell your family about for years to come, surely?

Not so. 

He was tall, charming in an awkward way, devilishly handsome, and one of the best sexual encounters that you had ever had in your life. You couldn’t forget the way that he pressed you against the wall, the way that he touched you wherever he pleased but wouldn’t let you even get a taste of him beyond one fleeting kiss when you agreed to lend him your card for the day. He had promised that he would get it back when he was certain that he was safe, and at the time you were too charmed by him to actually process what you were doing - who exactly you deemed it appropriate to get finger-fucked by at your job in return for him taking your one-way ticket throughout the arena. 

The promise that he made you to return your card was never fulfilled, and when you saw on the television that The Butcher had been apprehended, you knew that it never would be. 

There was a sick feeling in your stomach. You knew that you had willingly helped The Butcher, Cooper. But it didn’t really matter, did it? He was apprehended, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone else, and the young man that he had kidnapped had survived the encounter. Lady Raven never made it to her second show, the one that had sold out to begin with, but even she had made it out alive.

Still, that sick feeling grew - because you were almost disappointed. 

Not disappointed that people had survived, it wasn’t that you thrived on chaos and wished to see more violence. You were disappointed because you wanted more from that encounter, you wanted to feel more than just his fingers, you wanted him to fulfill that promise that he had made to you to return his card. That promise had come with a lot more implications than just returning something that you weren’t going to need for work anymore now that he was caught. It made you feel sick because you knew who he was, what he was capable of, and you still found yourself wishing that you could feel his fingers digging into your hips again. You wished that you could touch him, at least once. It was so very wrong to wish something like that about him now that you knew who he was - but did you not know before? 

Glancing away from the glow of the television in your dark room, you raised the fabric of the tank top covering your upper torso. His fingers had dug into your skin harshly, it almost felt like the ghost of them still existed on your skin even though you knew that couldn’t be possible. 

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts, but you were certain nobody should be knocking at this hour. Leaning forward, you opened the drawer of the coffee table and grabbed the small gun from inside of it, work-issued, something that you really weren’t supposed to fire when you weren’t on the clock. They should understand if you were about to be potentially murdered, right? 

Standing up, you peered through the peep-hole only to find the one person who you were certain couldn’t actually be there. But he knocked again, and you were almost sure that he had somehow made eye contact with you through the hole in the door.

“How did you figure out where I live?” You asked, opening the door and letting him in before anyone could see what was happening. “And how are you here? I saw on the news that you were in custody.” 

“Well, I was in custody.” He held up a small metal object, it looked like one of the spokes from a bike that he had bent. “I got out.”

“And my address, how’d you get my address?”

“You left your wallet sitting out, figured I’d return it to you.” 

You watched as he pulled a wallet out, and it was unmistakably yours. How had you not noticed that you didn’t have your wallet? It must have been the chaos of the day. When the concert ended, you were all briefed and asked to go home, but you knew that there was more that needed to be done once it was over. You were supposed to return for the second concert once they had done a sweep of the building to make sure that nobody was hiding out in there, but that had never happened. 

“I shouldn’t have let you into my house.” You acknowledged, taking the wallet from his hands and tossing it behind him onto the coffee table. “But I did.”

“You did. Why?” 

“You made a promise, I figure it would be the gentlemanly thing to do to keep your promise.” 

Cooper hummed in agreement, pulling the small white card out from his pocket and holding it out for you. Just as you went to grab it, he pulled it back. “I’ll give this back to you, but I want something in exchange.”

“What’s that?” 

“How much did the news actually tell you?”

“Just that you were apprehended, that you have a family.”

“It was my wife who turned me in, I can’t go back to that house. I can’t hide away with my children, I can’t even see them again.” He looked angry, you could see that, but his anger wasn’t with you. “I can’t run away because they’ll just look for me, but you…” 

“Cooper…”

“They won’t suspect that I’m with you, they don’t even know that I know you.” 

That much was true, he had pulled you into an area with no security cameras. You had already been there, and even if they questioned you, you doubted that they were actually going to be able to figure out that you’d been working with Cooper in any capacity. Still…

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Well, I don’t have any clothes in your size, so I’d have to buy those. I don’t have enough food for two, or anything for you to shower with. It would look really weird if I all of a sudden had a bunch of ATM withdrawals or mens clothes on my bank statement since they have you entering a room I was in on camera.” 

“I’ll give you cash.” 

“Alright, fine. But what if they come here?”

“Why would they come here?”

“At home visit. This is the FBI, they’re thorough.” 

“They’re not going to come here, I walked into a lot of rooms with a lot of people. I doubt that they’re going to interview everyone, and there were no identifiers on the card you gave me.” 

Glancing back over at the card, you knew that he was right, but there were still flaws.

“You’re going to get caught, and then we’re both going to be put in jail. Someone gave you a card, they know that much.”

“No, they knew that I had a card. I could have stolen that from anyone, I stole a clearance pass from someone - is he under investigation too?” He stepped forward, holding the card out for you. There were a lot of different ways he could have played this, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that he actually liked you as a person - this man just wanted to lay low and survive, even though you had been told that he wasn’t the type of person who really wanted to survive to begin with. You could only imagine that he was driven by pure spite, but by god were his manipulation tactics working. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. You can see that I’ve kept my promises to you.”

“Yeah, with conditions.” You replied, but you doubted that he was going to kill you. Unless something randomly snapped in him, you had done nothing to provoke him and he, technically, needed you. He couldn’t go out in public, and he really needed to lay low. Killing you would cut off any resource he has, and he would have to come up with some way for your neighbors to not get suspicious. Cooper wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill you even if he wanted to, since you were so willing to comply with him for some reason that you couldn’t quite figure out. “What do you gain from this?”

“I live, I fuck Rachel over just like she did to me.”

“The anonymous tip was her, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” 

“Right.” 

Sighing, you fought with yourself in your mind for a few moments. This was wrong, incredibly wrong. This man was a serial killer, he had done awful things. You had a gun and you could kill him, he couldn’t fight back in time when he had nothing to protect him. At the very least, you could incapacitate him and call police. It would be the right thing to do, the moral thing to do. Yet, when he looked at you, you couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his hand on your hips, of his fingers inside of you, of his brief and taunting kiss. You wanted to do the moral thing, but you couldn’t do it.

“I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I knew you’d make the right choice.” Taking the card from his hand, you glanced it over before setting it down. 

“Do you want something to drink? I have water, lemonade, whatever. Make yourself at home, I guess.” Glancing toward the living room, you moved to turn the television off, figuring it probably wouldn’t be advisable to have the news on anymore. Flicking the light on, you pointed toward the hallway. “I’ve got a small house and I live alone, you can sleep on the couch. My room’s back there.” 

“I’ll take a water, and the couch will be just fine.” 

Nodding, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed him a bottled water, but the couch couldn’t be right, you wouldn’t be comfortable with it. “Couch isn’t fine, you can sleep with me.”

“What’s wrong with the couch?”

“I have a giant sliding glass door, I’m shocked you didn’t just break in.” He finally turned to look at it, it was very close to your couch. “I’ll work on covering it up, but you’re just going to have to sleep with me.” 

“My pleasure.”

Your heart beat sped up for a second, but you brushed it aside and handed him the water, your fingers brushing his for a second. You couldn’t have sex with him, not tonight anyway. You wanted to, desperately, but your mind was running a mile a minute and you were certain his was too, considering. Everything about this felt like a fever dream, you were harboring a serial killer fugitive in your home for what reason? Because he was hot and good with his fingers? It was shameful, sinful, but not enough that you could stop it from happening. 

“Promise me again that you’re not going to kill me.” You said, walking him to your room and opening up the drawer where you typically kept your gun at night. Though you lived in a relatively safe area, you were always rather cautious. Supposedly. Maybe it wasn’t very cautious to let a known serial killer lay low in your home. 

“I promise I’m not going to kill you.” He stepped closer to you, his thumb on your chin as he tilted your head so you were looking into his eyes. There was a coldness in them that contrasted the naturally warm brown color that his eyes had, it probably should have turned you off. You were pretty sure it was impossible for you to be turned off by him, though. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe that you kinda need me for at least a little while, so yes.”

“That hurts.” He replied, and for just a moment you wanted to smile - he was kind of funny, but you weren’t sure that he was trying to be funny. 

Cooper’s movements were swift, it was as though he was sealing his promise with a kiss just as he had the last one. But this one was deeper, much longer than the kiss that left you yearning for more in the supply closet where you had forgotten what you were even looking for. The feeling of his hand on the small of your back urged you to move closer to him, his taut frame pressed against yours in a way that made you forget every pesky worry about safety and morality. Cooper’s hand ventured lower, a gasp escaping your lips upon feeling him squeezing your backside. 

But he pulled away, and he actually had the nerve to laugh at you for pouting before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“You’re gonna need to strip, you’re not sleeping in my clean sheets in your outside clothes.” 

“These aren’t even my clothes, I took them.”

“That’s even worse. I’ll get you new clothes tomorrow.” 

“Are you sure you don’t just want to see me strip?”

“I do want to see you strip, but no. Please?” 

The rest of the evening was… uneventful. You should know, since you were awake for most of it. 

Despite having the assurance of your gun being beside you, and knowing that logically there really was nothing this man could gain from killing you, you also knew that this was a terrible idea. He needed you for now, and probably for a little while, but were you just delaying the inevitable? People were going to assume he fled the country after a couple of months, and were you really even capable of laying that low for a couple of months just so he could kill you when he no longer needed you? But would he even want to kill you? He had the option to earlier in the arena, he had no idea at the time that it would have been shooting himself in the foot if he did. He knew that you would figure out who he was, and somehow he knew that you weren’t going to turn him in. 

Even with the belief that he, at the very least, wouldn’t kill you for a while - was this right? Surely, no. He was a serial killer, he was surviving predominantly so he could kill someone who had wronged him. This wasn’t someone who was at large for robbing a bank to feed his family, this was someone who was at large for murdering people and who was hoping to kill one member of his family. Still, it struck you as interesting that it was only one member. He seemed to care about his children in a genuine capacity, you had seen him with his daughter. At the very least, he had a capacity for human emotion, but did that simply make him more dangerous than he already was?

Sleep didn’t come easy for you. If it wasn’t a worry that the man beside you was going to turn on you on a dime and kill you two months down the road, it was your moral arguments about how you shouldn’t have even let this man into your house - how the right thing to do would be calling the police now that he was asleep beside you. If it wasn’t that, it was thoughts of how gruesome the murders had been, and a morbid curiosity about why he had done what he had done and what had driven him. You’d heard the profile, you knew that it had a lot to do with how he was raised and the issues that he had with his mother, but you wanted to know more - you wanted to hear from his own mouth what it was that drove him to do the things that he did in the manner that he did them. 

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep. Not that you slept for long, because just the slightest stir beside you caused you to wake up. But you did get a few hours of sleep, and those few hours translated into a sluggish day where you picked up men’s clothing and foods that you wouldn’t normally eat and hoped beyond all hope that someone you knew wasn’t going to be there. You were lucky that the arena was closed until further notice - with pay, thankfully - since it was still considered an active crime scene since Cooper was still at large. 

When you returned back, he was still right where you left him and seemingly relieved to change into something that didn’t belong to someone else. While he took care of himself, you took care of dinner. It was odd enough cooking for two people when you were used to just being alone, but it was even weirder knowing what the person who you were cooking for was capable of. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually question if what you were doing was morally okay or not - it wasn’t. It was not morally okay, you had ample opportunity to turn him in without worry of being killed for doing it and you chose not to. And why not? Because he was hot? Because you wanted to have sex with him? What kind of reason was that? At some point, you really just got tired of arguing with yourself in your mind and focused instead on whether you were actually going to have sex with him.

Sure, he fingered you one time, but he did that so you’d do him a favor. Sure, he’d kissed you since then, but was that just a thank you for helping him? And, sure, he was driven to kill Rachel - but it wasn’t like he was technically divorced. Killing his wife was probably a lot more severe and permanent than divorcing her, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was looking to have sex with someone who he had just meant. At some point, you had to consider your own morality in ensuring that - if that happened - it wasn’t solely because he wanted somewhere to stay. 

Once you had finished cooking, you took the opportunity to install the curtains that you had purchased while you were away. It was true that you had a fence in your backyard, but it was also true that you were still worried that - being that you were on camera in the same room as Cooper - you were being monitored, or at risk of being monitored. You’d intended on getting curtains for the glass door anyway, some sort of worry about people peeping through the glass. Of course, you hadn’t accounted for purposefully letting the danger inside of your home and deciding to look past the amorality of it. 

“Need some help with that?” 

“I’m good.” 

“Looks like you need some help with that.” Cooper moved with such ease, adjusting the curtains so they were installed in the right place. He was incredibly tall, and had no qualms with leaning so closely behind you that you could absolutely feel him pressed against your back. It sent a shiver up your spine, but that only made him lean just a little bit closer. 

When he was finished, you would expect that he’d move away. Instead, you felt his large hands move down to your hips, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched his reflection in the glass. He could see you, he was looking right at you, and you wanted to stop him and remind him that you made dinner, but the feeling of his lips against your neck had you forgetting anything else that was lingering in your mind. 

“You don’t have to have sex with me just so you have a place to stay, you know.”

“I had other ways of getting your help, I’m not looking for a favor.” He replied, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. “Unless you don’t want to… but I feel like you do.” 

“I do want to,” You replied, but turned around to face him anyway. He left his hands on your hips, not bothering to move away from you. He was so close to you, you could smell the soap that he had just used in the shower on him when you looked at him. “After we eat, I spent extra money on food for two.”

“After we eat, then.”

Cooper leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you had a difficult time controlling your body’s unavoidable attraction to the man. Wetness still lingered on your neck from his mouth, and all you could focus on was how badly you wanted to look down and confirm that he wanted this just as badly as you did. But he pulled away, giving you exactly what you had asked for and joining you for dinner. 

It was tense and somewhat awkward to sit down at eat with him, but it also seemed like something was was awkward for him, too. Not because he was thinking about you, or because he was even thinking about being on the run, but because he was used to eating meals with his children. Regardless of who he was, regardless of what he was capable of, it was inarguable that he cared about his children. You were certain that his mind was simply lingering on them, on what they were doing and what they were thinking of him at this very moment. Despite knowing that he was The Butcher, knowing that he really didn’t deserve much sympathy since he had made the decision to dow hat he had done, you still felt bad to see a man so desperately yearning to be with his children again. A yearning that you both knew was never going to be fulfilled because, even if he could find a way to get in contact with them again, it was unlikely that they were going to want to be in contact with him knowing what he had done, what he planned on doing to their other parent in an act of revenge. 

By the time you were finished eating, the only thing you could think about was how badly you wanted the man sitting in front of you - and how badly you were sure he wanted to distract himself from whatever thoughts were lingering in the back of his mind. Trying to wash the dishes lasted about two seconds before he was behind you again, and this time you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than give in.

“Finish cleaning.”

“But-”

“Finish cleaning or we won’t do anything.” He responded, but made no effort to make it easier on you as he pulled your hips against his, the rather apparent evidence that he wanted this as badly as you did pressing against your ass as you tried your best to continue washing the dishes that were in the sink. “Good girl.”

“You’re a tease.”

“Just organized.” 

You knew he was organized, you knew it bothered him if things weren’t clean and tidy. Each of those things were discussed during the breakdown of the profile of the man, so you doubted that he was going to be much different from that while living under the same roof as him even if it was only temporary. You had no qualms with washing your dishes and keeping your house clean, you simply took issue with it when you were trying to do a chore and had his mouth against your skin.

It took you all of two minutes - a personal record - to have everything cleaned and to have him turning you around and lifting you onto the dry part of the cupboard. You knew that he was strong, how else would he have been able to effortlessly lift the people that he was kidnapping? It wasn’t a shock to you that he would have no issue in placing you on your own cupboard, but you simply whined out a complaint along the lines of ‘I just cleaned in here the other day’. 

“You can clean again, I’m feeling impatient.”

“You really should help me clean since you’re not paying rent.” 

“Sounds fair.” 

Cooper seemingly was being honest about being impatient, wasting no time in pulling your shirt over your head and undoing the bra that was hooked at your back. He had a lot more ease with that than even you did sometimes, but you chose not to think too hard about it as you felt his lips against yours. He pressed himself in between your legs, spreading them a bit wider than was entirely comfortable for the muscles in your thighs, but that slight apprehension was entirely forgotten the moment you felt his hips grinding into yours.

A sigh left your throat, his hands complimenting the feeling nicely as he brought one to your chest, his thumb pressed against your nipple. He had quite large hands, but considering his overall stature, you weren’t very surprised by that. Your own hands got a bit adventurous, moving to undo his pants while he moved back slightly so you could do what it was that you wanted to do. Cooper helped you remove them, but you noted that he didn’t allow his pants to fall to the floor - that must be something that bothered him.

“Please take your shirt off.”

“Since you used your manners, I’d be happy to oblige you.” He responded, taking the shirt of but very neatly setting it down beside you. Your eyes locked on his, that familiar darkness still lingering in them as he looked at you. Bringing a hand up, he let you explore his torso, the warmth of his skin contrasting the coldness in his eyes - even when he seemed to be doing something intimate, there was never much warmth behind them. Not when he looked at you, anyway - you’d noticed that he looked very warmly at his daughter during the concert, it was something that made him stick out to you in the first place. 

“I really need you to fuck me.” 

Cooper huffed out a laugh at your bluntness, but wasted very little time in helping you get your pants undone and pulling them down your hips along with your panties. You watched him as he set them into a neat pile with his shirt, the coolness of the counter underneath you making you move a little bit closer to him. But any coldness that you still felt was gone soon thereafter. The head of his cock pushed against your clit first, a whimper leaving your lips as you felt him teasing you. 

“So fucking wet, have you been thinking about this all day?”

“I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday.” You admitted, but you were certain that he knew that. 

“I have too.” He responded, pushing inside of you a moment later and giving you very little time to process what he had said. Leaning forward fully, Cooper supported your body so you could press against him. He set a brutal pace, giving you very little time to adjust to the stretch of the size of a man of his stature. It was painful at first, but that pain was soothed by the feeling of his mouth against yours, by the sound of his moans filling your ears and reverberating against your lips. 

The pain melted away into pleasure rather quickly, fingers absentmindedly roaming his body before settling on his forearm. 

“You’re taking it so well, honey, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” Whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind were quickly forgotten as he pounded into you, and any remaining apprehensions in your own head were gone just as quickly as his were. “If I had time yesterday, I would have bent you over in that supply closet. You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck- I would have-”

“You’re sick for fucking me, you know that.” He was taunting you now, and he seemed to be getting off on it - in a weird way, you were too. 

“I know.”

“But you love it anyway.”

“I do- feels so good.” 

“I know, I know it does baby.” His taunts faded into coos, but his tone was still teasing and his hips were still snapping against yours with reckless abandon. Everything felt overwhelming, him inside of you, filling you more than anyone else ever could. His hand squeezing that part of your hip again, his hot breath against your lips - your breaths and moans fading together, and the feeling of the friction against your nipples as your chest was pressed tightly against his. It was all too much, but somehow not enough; you really couldn’t get enough of him. “But now I can have you whenever I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes-” You let out a squeal at a particularly harsh thrust, a coil building in your stomach as you felt one of his hands roaming down your skin before he pressed a finger against your clit. “Whenever you want.”

“Such a good girl, I think you deserve to cum. You’ve been so accommodating, so sweet.” 

“Please-”

Cooper’s finger sped up against your clit, your eyes shutting and your head falling against his chest as he brought you over the edge. He let you ride out your orgasm before pulling out to finish against your stomach, bringing his fingers down to collect the cum on your skin. Your eyes felt clouded over as you opened them, gazing into his that were also still blown out with lust. He watched as you took his fingers into your mouth, his own lips slightly ajar as he took in the sight of you taking the taste of him onto your tongue.

“Let’s get you into the bath.”

By the time that you had finished your shower - a shower that was riddled with mistakes as your legs were just a little bit shaky, he had placed all of your clothes into the washer and had seemingly dug through your drawers to find you some pajamas. It was definitely not the polite thing to do, but you weren’t sure what you expected from him.

This issue with him was, as you got back into bed with him and let him hold you - which, you weren’t sure if it was more for you or for him - was that he was so normal. You knew there were things wrong with him, but he appeared so normal and tame that you were almost able to forget them. But you knew about them, you knew what was wrong with him and you knew that you were just as bad for hiding him from the police, for allowing him a place in your life even though you were well-aware of the awful things that he did, the awful things that he was planning on doing in the future. 

Yet, as you felt his fingers brushing through your hair and the warmth of his body against your own, there was no part of you that wanted to change the decisions that you had made regardless of the risk and amorality of it all.

[skyahri]

Robes |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Your relationship with Zuko and how your friends found out.

Warnings: Implied intamacy???? Bed sharing. Kissing.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You were well acquainted with the Gaang. You'd served as a sort of double agent for them during the war once Zuko had teamed up with them. He knew they'd need some inside information, so he contacted you, knowing full well your ideals did not align with the fire nation.

You're the daughter of the prestigious Admiral Zhou, a ruthless military head who wouldn't hesitate to turn you in if he found out you were leaking information to the enemy.

It was easy to keep them updated. Your father had an ego the size of the moon, always going on and on about his achievements and new findings and whatnot. He was never home for long, leaving you in your mother's care and making it easy to sneak away. You mostly sent messenger Hawks, but once they'd infiltrated the fire nation you met in person.

You mostly met with Zuko, but occasionally, Sokka or Aang would take his place. You didn't mind. It was nice seeing more of the people you were risking your life for.

After the war, once Zuko took over as Fire Lord, he invited you to be a part of his cabinet. You weren't sure why, seeing as how the other members have some sort of military or consulting experience, and you're just a teenager who sent letters.

Strategy meetings were weekly, so you saw Zuko more often than any of the others. They visited when they could, but with the long list of air temple repairs, it was difficult to make time.

Not that you minded. You loved spending time with him, with or without the rest of the entourage.

Zuko was always accommodating to you, even going as far as to offer you a room in the palace 'if you ever need it.' He'd had the room fully furnished and closet stocked with spare outfits.

Occasionally, if meetings ran long, you'd stay in said room. It was a luxury the other members weren't granted, and honestly, it made you feel special.

When all the immediate post-war issues finally calmed down and Zuko had more free time, he always asked you to stick around or come keep him company.

He's the fire lord. He can't easily leave the palace, especially to do regular teenager things like laze around the shops or sneak into theaters, so you were limited to what the palace could offer.

You'd taken to gardening with him, something Zuko found very alluring. You played board games, baked pastries, and anything else you two could come up with.

Before long, you found yourself spending most of your time with him on the property. Occasional sleepovers quickly become several times a week. It wasn't long before you basically lived there, so you bit the bullet and brought the rest of your stuff to the palace.

Within a few months, you shared a kiss near the pond in the garden. Things slowly escalated over the next year or so. That first nervous kiss became the norm. You shared dinners and late night talks, often going so far into the night you'd just crash in his bed.

Before long, your room became obsolete. Your bed was hardly ever touched, your clothes were in his closet, items in his drawers, and toiletries in his restroom.

You'd heard the staff gossip from time to time, which you didn't necessarily mind, but it definitely made you blush. It felt like getting caught despite doing nothing wrong.

For a while, Katara would tease you mercilessly. She didn't know anything, or at least didn't lead you to believe she did. She just liked the idea of everyone finding someone, and you were the only girl Zuko ever talked to.

You went out of your way to cover up the obvious aspects of your relationship when your friends were around. You agreed early on to keep things under wraps, not wanting to harm the groups dynamic if things didn't work out.

But that was almost a year and half ago, and now it felt wrong to say anything. Like you had betrayed their trust somehow. You felt bad for lying to your friends about what was going on, but honestly, neither of you could bring yourself to admit the two of you had been dishonest for so long.

You woke up and patted the bed beside you. It was still warm, but Zuko wasn't there. You got up and picked up a robe off the floor to cover your nightwear. It was unlike him to leave without even waking you, so you'd go see what he was up to.

You exited his quarters and immediately saw the entire Gaang. They just stared at you in shock, having a hard time piecing things together.

"Did you just come out of Zuko's room?" Sokka asked.

"You saw me, didn't you?"

"Are those his clothes?" Katara asked.

You glanced down. They were, in fact, his clothes. You just stared at her, refusing to answer. Of course, Katara would notice they were his specifically and not just standard robes.

Zuko dragged his hand down his face. Of course, this is how they'd find out. Not after a long, thought-out conversation over a planned dinner or outing. They had to see you walk out of his room compromised after an impromptu visit.

They hastled you two for the rest of the day, asking horrifically personal questions and guilt tripping you into answering them. They bothered you for information about your intimate lives and dating preferences.

Late into the night, when the fire and excitement died down, Katara and Toph cornered you about the secrecy. You were huddled up in your room for a girls only sleepover when they decided to attack, giving you no choice but to be completely honest.

"We kept it quiet in case things didn't work out. Then some time passed... and we started feeling guilty about hiding it, and we just never found the right time."

"There didn't have to be a right time. Were your friends, not your subjects."

"I know. There's just a lot of pressure when you're with a friend who also happens to be the Fire Lord."

Luckily, you have amazing friends who understand people make mistakes. They squashed your anxiety about the whole thing, making sure you knew they weren't mad or disappointed.

But that absolutely did not stop them from holding over your heads for the unforeseeable future.

[natalievoncatte]

Kara is buzzed when it happens. Not drunk, buzzed. A little tipsy. Not lost in the sauce, more “in her cups”. It’s been a rough day of wordsmithing and crime fighting and game night has turned into an impromptu movie night because no one has enough energy to play anything. The Settles of Catan box is gathering dust next to the Pictionary stuff and the other random games that have accumulated at Lena’s apartment ever since they all realized that she has the best bachelorette pad for hosting these things.

Instead they’re watching Twister instead of playing Twister, laughing at how cheesy it is. The movie is almost over but the night is young and Kara is unwinding, so she asks Lena for a favor.

“Can you bring me some?” she says, spotting Lena pouring wine from a box that Kara brought over.

“Sure,” Lena says.

A moment later, Lena joins her.

This moment is inportant. Kara doesn’t know it yet but it’s one of the most important. One day she will rank it in importance with the day she first saved Lena and the first time she walked into Lena’s office and a number of other firsts.

Consider this: It is a warm May night and Lena has the windows open to let the breeze in. It’s maybe seventy in the penthouse and eventually it’ll get cooler. Right now, everyone is lazing about in knockaround clothes. Kara herself is in a pair of old threadbare sweats from the DEO that she kept even after the organization disbanded because they were so comfy, and the ribbed tank she had on under her outfit at work, baring her blocky and sun-tanned shoulders.

(This is because Lena once made a comment about her big meaty shoulders after they attended a spin class together. Kara never consciously said “I’m giving Lena two tickets to the gun show”, but she has her bis and tris on display around her whenever possible anyway. Kara had no reason to flex when she’s opening a bottle of wine -or a box with a screw cap- but she does it anyway. She doesn’t need to pick up Lena’s car… you get the idea.)

Lena, for her part, is dressed in mercilessly short shorts that bare her thick thighs, and she’s put on a sweatshirt. A gray sweatshirt that has the National City university logo on it, a school she did not attend, and is two sizes too big for her. She’s put her hair up in a sloppy ponytail and has taken out her contacts in favor of a pair of rather chunky-framed glasses. She looks like a dork.

A stunning, cute, adorable, huggable, kissable dork.

Lena brings with her two blue plastic tumblers of wine, and hands one to Kara.

The couch is packed. Alex and Nia flank Kara, and their respective partners fill out the sofa. Really, someone should have saved Lena a seat in her own house. She has one in mind, though. She sits right on Kara’s lap as she hands her the wine.

It could be any number of things that cause it. She’s tired, she spiked a few of her drinks with alien rum, it’s been a long and frustrating day and she’s just not thinking right. She doesn’t have her filters in. Words just spill out.

“Good girl,” Kara says, as Lena settles in place.

The reaction is subtle, but to a Kryptonian, obvious. Lena’s heart does a little pitter-patter and she tenses just slightly, just barely, so subtly that only Kara would notice. Her pupils widen and her breath catches sharply.

Alex, seated such that she’s behind Lena, snaps her gaze to them quickly.

Kara does the only thing she reasonably can do. She presses her legs gently to either side to make sure there’s enough room and lets Lena settle in with her. The couch is one of those huge custom jobs that cost more than Kara’s apartment and every stick of furniture in it, so there’s room for Lena to comfortable position herself and lean back into Kara, sipping a bit of wine.

Everyone is else is dead silent, the only sound coming from Lena’s massive TV and theater quality sound system (so there is in fact a lot of sound)

Lena is there and she’s warm and soft, the crown of her head in perfect range for a little sniff. With not much effort Kara could press her lips to Lena’s hairline and give her a little kiss.

She’d done that once. It was after a save, when Kara was holding Lena in her arms after catching a collapsing crane on her back, shrugging off a hundred tons of twisted metal to save her Lena. It was not long after Lena came back to her and things were still weird and fragile and Lex wanted her dead and Kara was so, so scared, so wracked with pain just from knowing what Lena meant to her. The only way she could stop herself from kissing Lena, proper kissing, was by pressing her lips somewhere safe and friendly and kinda a we’re friends kiss and not a I want to marry you please never leave me again kiss.

Lena drinks the wine so fast she gulps, and she’s either thirsty or trying to calm her nerves. There’s a palpable air in the room right now, a heavy tension that’s made them all suddenly stiff and uncomfortable. They pass the rest of the movie in silence.

“Who’s up for a double feature?” Kara says, not wanting to leave but not wanting to test the terms under which she might stay.

“Not me,” Alex says. “We’ve got to get home and pay Ruby for watching Esme. Besides, if we let you picky we’ll end up watching some damn cartoon.”

Nia wnd Brainy similarly demur, citing reasons of their own.

“Okay. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” Lena says, tentatively.

“I don’t want to be a poor guest.”

The rest of the Superfriends pile out of the penthouse and into the night with mildly alarming speed, and Kara is suddenly alone with Lena. The vast penthouse doesn’t feel empty. Instead it feels close in, almost crowded.

Lena slips off of Kara’s lap and plops beside her, yawning. She sets down her empty wine cup and stretches, delightfully arching her back as she throws her arms back up over her head, fingers laced. Kara doesn’t need x-ray vision to see she’s bare beneath the sweatshirt. Her own heart does a little flutter.

She looks so soft, so cozy and inviting, but her legs are such a distraction that Kara can’t help but look at them, her gaze sweeping from ankle to hip with the intensity of an explorer who’s just crested a mountain and set eyes on a promised new land. That’s when Kara realizes that Lena saw her looking and is meeting her gaze firmly.

“Like what you see?”

Kara swallows hard. She can hear the drum of Lena’s own heart, almost feel the same quickening of her pulse as well as the slight waver in her voice.

Kara licks her lips.

“Should we clean up, or…”

“Should we? Or should it wait until morning?”

If Lena had been dropping hint before, she was laying down the gauntlet now. She looked at Kara with lidded eyes and a flushed, wine-silly grin.

Kara swallowed hard. A part of her, a very loud part, still insisted she misinterpreted all of this and Lena was just being friendly. What if she was just being friendly, what if-

“What would you rather do?” said Kara.

Lena shrugged. “I’m tired of thinking, Kara. People ask me what to do all damned day. I’d rather relax and just let someone else take charge for a while.”

The way she said it, especially take charge, was so heavy and drippy and velvety that Kara could get lost in it.

Fuck it.

Kara twisted and, carefully, very carefully, lifted Lena into her lap. Lena made sure to not sit but straddle, her warm thighs bracketing Kara’s as she settled her weight in Kara’s lap and fell against her chest.

Very, very tenderly, with supreme care, Kara pressed her hand to the back of Lena’s head, slipping her fingers into Lena’s hair, and guided her in. She savored every second. The ghost of breath on her lips, the sight of Lena’s blown pupils before she closed her eyes, the feeling of Lena’s fingers digging into her shoulders as their lips met. Lena kissed her softly at first, then more and more greedily, exploding from a gently pressing of lips into something undeniably needy and hot. When Lena moaned into her mouth, Kara’s nerves lit up like a Christmas tree and she instincts grabbed Lena’s hips and and grinds herself up against her.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, “is that my sweatshirt?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Take it off,” said Kara, and then a moment later, “good girl.”

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

listen I love stede a lot - I think he's the bravest character in the show. he changes everyone he meets for the better. he embodies what I think of as the thesis of the show. if he wasn't the way that he is, the show would not be very good, imo.

but in ep one he gives his pirate crew notes on the raid they just did as though they were a community theater troupe and his notes were 1) complimenting his own opening speech as "very inspiring" and 2) complaining that that the crew wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about robbing two poor fisherman of a single plant.

during the raid his narration went "some men are born to be pirate captains, others learn on the job. me? well I'm a pretty solid mix of both" as though he has any idea what he's doing.

and AFTER the raid Olu has to gently point out to him that piracy isn't a game to the rest of the crew.

There's a reason that Rhys Darby was the only person capable of playing Stede without making him seem like a total dick. And I think that's bc Rhys was able to convey the idea that Stede's behavior in the first few eps is coming out of this deep sense of insecurity - he's doing some Stede-y things (flag making! paying the crew! bedtime stories!) that are great but he's also pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing. And it's the pretending that makes people cringe with second hand embarrassment. While also, often, seeing themselves in it and feeling a great deal of sympathy for Stede about it.

The reason Stede is like this is because HE thinks there's something deeply wrong with him, a belief that has been solidified by everyone around him his entire life, and therefore he needs to do everything he can to hide that deeply wrong thing about him. When he unpacks that and embraces the things about himself he originally thought were embarrassing (being weak, pathetic, soft, etc), he can stop pretending. And that's when other characters grow to love him! And so people will sometimes call him cringe because they aspire to be cringe like him, to embrace the parts of themselves that they were punished for and live more authentically.

because he changes! that's the point! he moves from cringe (pretending to be someone he's not) to cringe (being true to himself, always a deeply vulnerable thing to be) and it takes a lot of hard work. that's what makes me LIKE him as a character. that's what I think makes him the bravest character on the show. because he doesn't start out perfect. he's a puppet who grows into a real boy and that means that for a period of time he was a puppet, and that's okay.

[nnk1911]

Bf Yuuta Okkotsu headcanons

He definitely is the perfect boyfriend.

Calls you with the sweetest pet name and softest tone: honey, babe, darling, my love, angel….

Whenever he sees you, his eyes always sparkle, full of love and affection.

Likes peppering kisses on your forehead, cheeks, nose, knuckles, neck….on every part of your body.

He’s a clingy person, always find a way to be close to you

If you’re in public, he’ll hold your hand, intertwine his fingers with yours and squeeze them tightly

And if he sees someone looking at you, he’ll hug you by grabbing your waist, pulling you closer and staring at that person with dead eyes.

Talking about dead eyes, the dark circles under his eyes just become bigger and bigger as time passes, in spite of all your efforts to make them disappear. But they’re endearing, aren’t they ? 

Anyway back to the clingy part, he finds it better to sleep when he has you on top of him, or when he can spoon you all night. And he somehow can always find a way to kiss your forehead or your cheeks a million times during the night.

He loves cuddling and hugging, really really love. If you’re watching a movie or scrolling your phone thoughtlessly? Sit on his lap so he can hold you tight. If you’re cooking in the kitchen? He will hug you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder and murmur “I love you”. If he or you just come home and are very exhausted? Cuddling will be the best remedy.

The way he holds you is so firm yet so gentle, like you’re the most fragile thing and will break apart if he adds more strength. And he will rub your back back and forth unconsciously, or draw small circles on it, or maybe caress your hair and play with it.

He loves lying on your lap, or on top of you too. He just so obsessed with how soft and warm your body is, and when you play with his hair, massage his scalp, it will lull him to sleep and get the best dream about you and him.

He’ll buy you gifts for no reason, just because he wants you to feel happier and have a better day (every day with him is the best day )

He prefers to take dates in some places like the cafe you both like, the peaceful and quiet movie theater or the aquarium, everywhere that brings comfortable and cozy vibes rather than noisy and hectic places (but if you want to go he’ll go without complain, he just likes to spend time with you, no matter the places)

Oh this boy has the warmest smile ( I love the way he smiles in movie 0, my heart melts every time I watch that scene), and his beaming face will never fail to light up your day, you always find yourself mirroring his emotion whenever he’s grinning at you.

He’ll never raise his voice to you, NEVER. If you two are in an argument, and if anger is going to take the best of you, he’ll hold your hand strongly, tell him to look directly at his eyes. That time you realize just how much affectionate in his gaze every time he puts his eyes on you, then you can be calmer and find a way to resolve the useless strife.

He tells you that he loves you every day, billions of times per day.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you’re sleeping peacefully in his embrace, the three words “I love you” will slip out of his tongue as naturally as he breathes. At midnight, in his dream, he also quietly murmurs those three words while burying his head in the crook of your neck or bathing in the warmth of your chest, hearing your gentle heartbeat.

OMG I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCHHHHH OH MY BABY BOY :"((((. I WRITE THIS TO INDULGE MY DAYDREAMS. UGHH I NEED HIM SO BAD

English isn't my first language, so please be nice with all the grammar mistakes and odd vocabulary. You can point out my errors and I will fix them as soon as possible

[on-leatheredwings]

request: "how dick would handle learning reader is dating somebody?"

Yandere! Dick Grayson / GN! Reader > romantic > tw/cw: possessive thoughts, suggestive thoughts > word count: 660

Dick is 100% going to sabotage it. 

He had been so excited to spend the night with you – even if it is still entirely platonic. A movie with friendly snuggles was better than no movie and no snuggles, right? 

The snacks are classic theater popcorn, sour candies, chips, soda. The theater is your bedroom. A mountain of pillows and blankets are your recliners for the evening. Premium comfort. 

Following the plot of the movie goes out the window once your head drifts sleepily onto his shoulder halfway through the film. Dick tempts fate by reaching his arm around you. He feels jitters when you don’t protest, seemingly agreeable to the contact. You don’t even move once the movie credits start to play. 

It’s a good night so far. A great night.

Then you speak. 

“Oh!” you snap your head to him. Dick does the same, heart jumping with surprise. Snuggling had put him nearly in a tranquilized state. You sit up out of his grasp, and leave him cold and wanting. “You’re always talking about how I should get the house… Well, I forgot to say earlier, but I’m kind of seeing that cute pizza guy I told you about!” 

Dick just stares at you, a smile frozen on his face.

“Oh! That’s awesome!” he says. To his grief, you begin to tell him all about it. “Uh huh. Mm hmm.” he says to your gushing. It was lucky that you were so enamored with your daydreaming that you couldn’t notice his robotic nodding or the displeased glint of his eyes. Dick knew this day may come – you finding someone before he’s ready to pursue you. There are admittedly some things he enjoys about being your friend rather than your lover. Majority of it is feeling like he’s undercover, playing a cat-and-mouse game you aren’t even aware of. But that doesn’t mean you won’t feel attraction to someone else. So Dick has a plan.

The first order of business is making the target of your affection look as incapable as possible. That’s not hard. He is Dick Grayson. He is five-ten and 177 pounds of capable. Most people pale in comparison. He’ljust be a little suggestion, here and there.

“Oh, he’s not treating you to dinner? Well, fuck those stuffy, traditional roles, amirite?” 

“That’s where you had your first date? … He’s really thrifty.” 

“Wait, he volunteers re-socializing homeless abused puppies only once a week? I figured we all make time for it at least every weekday.”

He just needs to plant the seeds of doubt. Give you what people call, ‘the Ick.’ Once you break it off with that guy, surely, you’ll be feeling the temptation of bouncing to someone new. But who…?

That part’s the easy part. (Actually, it’s all pretty easy for him.) Dick will get you to notice just how great he is. He’s charming. And handsome. And rich. And flexible. He just needs to take you out to swim, or skating, or the gym, or the park – anything that would enable him to slide his hands across you. He can already imagine lengthening your arm, putting it gingerly in the right position. He can imagine the sweat beading on your temple. He can imagine your lip bite as you struggle to ignore his chest against your back as he stretches you out.

Dick relaxes, leaning back. He still offers vague commentary in the conversation, but his mind is racing with many other possibilities. Your body. His body. Together.

“But enough about that!” you say finally. “Let’s put on another movie.” Your brow raises cheekily. “Horror movie? And first one to scream owes the other twenty bucks?” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Dick hums. 

At your clear excitement, he feels his cheeks warm. He admires how the blue light of the TV screen reflects in your gorgeous eyes. Maybe he’ll let you win anyway, if only because he loves the look on your face when you do.

[ariaste]

If you could sit the vampire polycule/diabolicule down in a row on a sofa to watch one (1) movie with the intent of causing the maximum amount of psychic damage and/or drama, what movie would you pick for them? I'll go first: Moulin Rouge. Hear me out.

Louis is upset because he's a pretentious snob (affectionate) when it comes to Art and he's complaining that it's just a ripoff of the opera La Traviata. He's correct but he doesn't need to say it, he is allergic to camp and he's harshing everyone's vibes with his barely-under-his-breath scoffing.

Daniel is ruefully identifying way too heavily with Ewan McGregor's character. Daniel is sitting here with his mouth firmly shut like, "Nobody call me out for being exactly Like That when I was 20, nobody look at me, nobody read my mind, nobody make eye contact with me, god this is cringe. Look, he's even got the drug use going on." (This is show!canon that we're talking about so thankfully Daniel doesn't have to also cope with the "AND he's embarrassingly into a hot redheaded theater nerd, god just kill me now, nobody Perceive me please" vector of embarrassment). Daniel is also not having a good time with the creepy older men skeeving on this theater nerd sex worker once he thinks the words "Hm, Marius vibes"

Daniel and Louis also feeling kind of mutually overstimulated from how their heightened vampire super-senses are reacting to all of the Colors and Flashing Lights and Whippy Camera Movements etc. They have matching headaches and are feeling slightly nauseated.

Everyone is feeling some degree of slightly triggered, emotionally, about either Paris In General (Daniel), or Niche-Theater Life In Paris (Armand, Louis, Lestat). Big mixed feelings also about tuberculosis, a disease that makes people cough up blood.

Armand and Lestat are profoundly NOT allergic to camp, unlike some people on this wretched sofa. Armand and Lestat cannot be overstimulated by Colors/Flashing Lights/Whippy Camera Movements/etc, bc their vampire neurodivergence goes in the opposite direction. They have not blinked or moved in 90 minutes except to breathlessly clutch each other's hands. Lestat is muttering feverishly under his breath like "armand. armand. armand. is it maybe time for us to found another theater together, do you think???? armand??? what if we just. are you doing anything after this. how much cash do you have on hand right now." his ADHD hyperfixation on a new-old hobby is going BUCK WILD. He has to recreate this except EVEN MORE. Armand is watching Satine Suddenly Die At The End, just like how in all of his silly little plays someone also Suddenly Dies At The End, and he is deciding that this is maybe god's perfect movie. This is the greatest film either of them has ever seen. They think this is Cinema.

Armand and Lestat will have never agreed with each other for so many consecutive minutes as they will when the credits roll and Louis starts monologuing about how much it sucks to the point of VAST OFFENSE AND HURT FEELINGS on Armand and Lestat's part

the whole mess devolves into a screaming fight between the three of them while Daniel both refuses to referee and also won't stop making bitchy comments once he twigs to the fact that nobody else seems to have noticed that he was Going Through Some Cringe Nostalgia. The night is ruined, no one is happy, Louis takes Lestat floating the idea of founding a new theater with Armand since "you clearly don't understand art, LOUIS" as one of Lestat's top five greatest betrayals. Armand is not giving a straight answer about whether he is on board with the theater idea or not, which upsets everyone equally, unlike if he had said yes or no clearly and at least gotten one ally locked down. Louis appeals to Daniel to oppose the theater idea; Daniel does a bad job of doing so because he chronically believes that maybe having some hobbies will Make Armand Worse, which is a thing he's into sexually. Everyone goes to bed mad. The passive-aggression for the next week could be cut with a knife.

[another-lost-mc]

imagine some bittersweet angst where MC ends up with someone in the human world because she wasn't able to go back to the devildom, so the brothers look after MC's children and future descendants. Like imagine belphegor appearing in front of mc's daughter who calls him "uncle belphie", or lucifer and "mr Luci,". Basically being the guardian they couldn't be for lillith's descendants

a/n: okay that's a little sad to think about, but it's sort of precious too.

protecting what matters most | the demon brothers [dateables version]

1.2k words | sfw | gn!Reader

content/warnings: family dynamics and slice of life. fluff and angst, mention of character death and passage of time, mentions of raising children, platonic relationships with the demon brothers.

— Living in the Devildom for a year forged bonds with the demon brothers that can't be broken. You don't return, but they keep in touch with you however they can, starting with regularly scheduled phone calls and group chats over text, until eventually they surprise you with a visit to the human world.

— Asmo's the first one to find out that you met someone after you rebuilt your human life. The others didn't believe it until the day you formally introduced them to your partner. They hid their disappointment or anger or jealousy as best they could, but they had to admit that your partner was perfect for you. They'd never seen you so happy.

— Human lives are fleeting moments in time, and it wasn't until you told them about your engagement and upcoming nuptials that they realized your life would pass by in a blur. You'd be gone before they knew it, and they didn't want to take you for granted.

— They came to your wedding and gave you gifts, and they promised that their long-lost sister's future generations would be protected and cherished by them no matter what.

— Years pass and your house fills with family photos of your children's very eccentric uncles.

— Uncle Luci is the nicest. He bonds with your oldest child the most, but he teaches all your children the importance of family and patience and loyalty. Showing emotion and asking for help aren't signs of weakness, but signs of strength. He's also the one who gifted your family a puppy when your children were old enough to help care for it. He's in fewer photographs and videos than the rest of his siblings because he's usually the one volunteering to hold the camera. Watching your family stand intertwined with his fills the aching parts of his heart with love instead of pain and regret, and he wants to capture these special memories to look back on. His study and bedroom in the House of Lamentation are filled with these photographs too.

— Uncle Mammon is good at so many things. He shows them card tricks and he teaches them how to play games, too—Go Fish and Crazy 8's at first and Poker later. He tells them the importance of restraint and responsibility and that sometimes you need to make your own luck. He comes trick-or-treating on Halloween, and he'll even go into the haunted house attraction once they turn their puppy eyes on him. He helps the kids with math homework and science projects, and he helps each of them pick out and learn how to care for their first car. (He's twisted around their fingers the way he's still twisted around yours.)

— Uncle Levi is one of their favourites to invite for slumber parties. He brings lots of costumes and toys to play with, and he likes to watch cartoons and play video games as much as they do. He encourages them to be creative and unique no matter what anyone else thinks (but reminds them to call him or talk to their parents if they get teased or bullied). He takes the kids to opening day showings of the latest superhero movie they want to see, and they all come back with plastic collectible cups from the theater after eating way too much sugar. He gives some of the best gifts on special occasions and their birthdays.

— Uncle Sully fills your house with books. As your children grow older, he replaces their children's books with things more suitable for their ages and reading levels, and he delights when one of yours is as much of a bookworm as he is. He tries to teach them all about the power that comes from knowledge, and how books are not only a glimpse into the past but a hopeful peek into the future. He wants them to explore the world with an open mind and vivid imagination. He teaches them that family gives them strength and love and as long as they have each other, they can do anything.

(They start calling him Uncle Satan when they learn the truth about their beloved uncles. It was only a matter of time and you had years to prepare an explanation, but it still catches you off-guard: your children sitting very seriously at the kitchen table, looking at each other before one of them starts to speak. They ask tough questions about why their uncles don't seem to get any older, and why they can do all these amazing things they learn later is because of magic. Your youngest still calls him Uncle Sully; the others save that nickname for special occasions, just to get a rise out of him.)

— Uncle Asmo is so much fun! He helps you organize birthday parties and graduation parties, and when your children grow into adulthood and begin to live their own lives, weddings and honeymoons and baby showers too. He loves to be involved because he wants them to feel special and celebrated for all their achievements. It's also an excuse for him to spoil your family with clothes and gifts that you know can only be purchased in the Devildom. He helps you navigate their challenging teen years, talking to them about love and sex and healthy relationships. He makes sure they all know that he's there to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or any other support or help they might need. He feels blessed to watch your family grow up because your love for them is so pure and beautiful; your impact on this world will linger long after you're gone.

— Uncle Beel and Uncle Belphie are the ones that take your children on some of their most cherished childhood adventures. They just happen to come by for a visit when traveling carnivals and theme parks open for the summer season. They all eat a ridiculous amount of food and come back with armfuls of souvenirs (which Beel happily pays for and refuses your attempts to pay him back). They suggest camping trips on long holiday weeks or ski vacations during the colder winter months. They like helping your children connect with nature and the stars and each other. Beel and Belphie tell the best stories, even if some of them are a little sad.

(They don't know until they're older that Uncle Belphie used to visit at nighttime and help care for them as babies. Sometimes you'd wake up and check on them to find them fast asleep in his arms while he rocked them in the chair beside their crib. Other nights, he visited when you'd already gotten up, but you always invited him to stay and listen while you hummed a lullaby.)

— Your children grow older and so do you. The demon brothers aren't ready to say goodbye—how could they be? When you're gone, it feels like they lost Lilith all over again. Death haunts them like shadow, but this time it's different because they realize that their family's not broken. It's stronger, and bigger, because you gave them that gift. In return, they promise to protect the descendants of Lilith that bear your name and have the same potential for greatness that you did.

— Your children's homes, and their children's after that, remain filled with photographs of their quirky uncles. The names and faces of the demon brothers are passed down along to each generation with a growing collection of impossible stories. It's your family's precious secret that each child is told when they're old enough to understand, because it's only a matter of time before the uncles arrive to visit them too.

[wideeyedloner]

I've seen so many posts talking about the Honda scene being a visual metaphor for Deadpool and Wolverine having sex that I want to talk about the film as a whole for a second:

Deadpool & Wolverine is a romantic comedy.

There are a bunch of places (including this one) that describe the format of a romantic comedy, but the basic beats are as follows:

1. Introduction to your protagonist "Okay, Peanut, guess we're getting that team-up, after all." Deadpool and Wolverine opens on Wade digging up Logan's remains from Logan (2017).

2. The inciting incident "I'll do it." Paradox kidnaps Wade and blackmails him into locating a Logan to save his timeline. Cue "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, featured in City of Angels (1998).

3. The meet-cute "You two going to fuck or fight?" After initially failing to resurrect his own timeline's Logan, Wade travels to several other timelines to find another in a montage set to Huey Lewis and the News' "The Power of Love".

4. The new reality/new world "Let's fuckin' go." Paradox sends them to the Void, ruled by Xavier's insane twin sister, where it turns out many other mutants have also been sent. They need to escape in order to save Wade's timeline and try to undo the events of Logan's timeline, which Wade has promised is possible. This requires them to work together.

5. The mirror moment/recommitment "I'm going to fight you now." Logan finds out that Wade lied to him in order to secure his cooperation, leading to the Honda fight scene set to "You're The One That I Want" from Grease (1978). Logan is demoralized but Laura convinces him that he's still needed. He really is; it's his compassion that convinces Cassandra not only to spare their lives, but to send them back to Wade's timeline if they're willing to take a leap of faith together.

6. The crisis/all is lost "They do not play nicely with each other." Cassandra is still insane, so she follows them because she'd like to eliminate all timelines and rule over everyone in the Void. To stop this, Paradox tells Wade and Logan that someone has to cut power to the device she's using at the guaranteed expense of their life.

7. The climax "I got nothin'. Give me this." Naturally, Wade and Logan fight over which one gets the privilege of sacrificing himself for the other. Logan initially wins him over with a heartfelt speech, but Wade gets Logan with a sneak attack. Wade struggles to make the connection between the terminals because they're further apart than the wingspan of a single human, but they're conveniently just the right size for two (ಥㅅಥ). Of course, the choir version of Madonna's "Like A Prayer" is playing here.

This scene encapsulated everything I enjoyed about this film: that it was stupid, emotional, action-filled, filthy, and obviously about romance between men. My husband is straight and he left the theater with me in full agreement that a) this was a romantic comedy and b) they had sex in in the Honda.

8. The resolution "Althea, this is--this is Logan." It's the end of the story, they're about to part ways, and Wade will never see Logan again if he lets him walk out of his life. So he takes Logan home and makes him part of the world he'd been telling Logan he'd been trying to save all movie long.

❤ The end ❤

The Soundtrack I can't tell you how excited I was about the soundtrack. It's full of old, romantic songs. "Only You (And You Alone)" has to be on like every doo-wop or "Best of the '50s" compilation album. "Iris" (oh god this song is old now) was featured in the romantic drama City of Angels. Everyone and their dog has covered "You Belong to Me", and the most famous recent cover has to be Jason Wade's version that was featured in Shrek (2001). Chris De Burgh may not be crazy about "The Lady in Red", but I think it's fucking sweet. I grew up on musicals and LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE "You're the One That I Want" from Grease (1978).

The Honda Odyssey Fight Scene I wanted to come back to this because there is so much to it. I'm bringing up "You're the One That I Want" again.

There are intentional parallels made between this dance number in Grease and the fight scene. It's about the flirtatious push and pull between Sandy and Danny throughout after she's made her superficial transformation into the 'bad girl' at the end of the movie. It's the same in the Odyssey between Logan and Wade. They throw each other in and out of the car as they fight (and sure, go in and out of each other).

Just look at this:

Yup, completely intentional visual metaphors for fucking galore. Logan and Wade even have a post-fight bondage scene.

Also! These scenes end with the couples in moving vehicles.

In conclusion: Deadpool & Wolverine is a violent romantic comedy. Of course they fucked.

[nilboxes]

Outlining thoughts about a media reference in Penacony that is heavily Aventio implied.

More philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio.

At the very bottom of Dreamflux Reef is a little event where you wait by a train platform, it never comes and you get an achievement afterwards called “Waiting for Godot '' which is a play about two men doing what the title says, along the way one of them consistently insists to perform self-exit. Sound familiar? 

I was curious about the title of the achievement because that seemed like a reference and upon some quick research, “Waiting for Godot” is an allegorical work demonstrating the “Theater of the Absurd” which presents absurdist themes and situations in a play.

A bit of refresher on the philosophy of absurdism– it is the belief and acceptance that the universe is inherently meaningless, but one can find ways to accept it and live with it. This is just a very simplified sentence of the idea, of course, but continuing on…

The play opens with two men, Estragon (Gogo) and Vladimir (Didi) who are waiting for Godot by a tree. Vladimir is the more philosophical, level headed of the two who is always pulling Gogo away from his bursts of worry, while Gogo seems more out of it and neurotic, freaks out, also expresses the desire to sleep or is trying to find a means to get out of waiting for Godot by hanging himself.

They basically do nothing except talk the entire play. The way they talk they are demonstrated to have a close relationship and dependent relationship with each other, able to blather endlessly in circles in order to pass the time, and speak of things like ‘our honeymoon’, how long they have been together and at one point Gogo demands Didi to embrace him, which the other obliges. 

The play continues with the arrival of someone who they mistake for Godot but isn’t. The play ends with them both being told by a boy sent by Godot himself that he will not be arriving that day. Didi asks for descriptions of Godot, as neither Gogo nor Didi have a clue what Godot looks like, but the boy doesn’t provide much, and merely assure the pair Godot will arrive tomorrow. Both Gogo and Didi say they will leave, but stay on the stage. A shorter act two basically has the same ending, with Godot sending the same boy to tell the two men the same news, but the boy denies being the same boy from yesterday and he does not remember either of the men. Didi gets angry and tells the boy to remember so they can avoid repeating this encounter. The boy exits, the two men consider suicide, but they don’t have rope to hang themselves on the tree, so they decide to leave and come back tomorrow but the actors on stage only remain. End of play. 

Some of the more standout scenes to me as I can’t help but feel Gogo asleep alludes to sleep as a rehearsal of death, and the one “left behind” experiences the weight and anxiety of being conscious while bereft of their companion as they wait.

Notable conversations they have I find interesting was how Gogo brings up hanging himself and they both argue about who should be first. Gogo insists Didi go first as Didi is heavy and if the bough breaks as Didi hangs himself, Gogo is afraid to be left alone. 

Another conversation, at one point Gogo falls asleep, Didi lets him, but soon finds the silence unbearable and wakes Gogo up. Gogo complains, and wishes to share his nightmares but Didi vehemently refuses and doesn’t want to hear it. 

The play is effectively a metaphor of the state of living in the absurd. Gogo and Didi spend all the time waiting for Godot, who is ‘meaning’ personified. Gogo and Didi find ways to pass the time (live through life) discussing, reminiscing, needing comfort from each other only to be acutely aware they are still trying to find “meaning”, despair a little and ultimately rinse and repeat to do it again. Godot will never come, the two men make it seem like a big deal, but it is a small part of their day compared to what they do, how much they enjoy each other’s company and what they come to experience while waiting for Godot, and that’s the entire point. 

A lot of the play again, is basically talking, some sense within the nonsense. As HYV references this play at the very “bottom” of the dream we can reach so far, it’s obvious this play was one of the inspirations for the Penacony story and that we as the TB were also living in our own theater of the absurd. 

I also see a bit of Aventurine and Ratio’s relationship in Gogo and Didi. Gogo who is anxious, unsettled and not keen to wait on Godot, very eager to end it all like Aventurine. Didi who is not too better off but trying his best to stay rational and philosophical and to wait. The two also act like a married couple, bicker endlessly but enjoy it and arguably are in distress whenever the other might leave. 

It’s not 1:1 but I do believe this is another supporting tidbit that Aven and Ratio really were written as a pair and meant to complement each other. 

It’s tiny but Aventurine sleeping when we first start the 2.1 quests with him proper to be woken up by Ratio couuuld be a callback to this.

Anyway another fun tidbit that the devs left at the train station, there’s two balloons situated by a bench. One is horizontal on the bench, implied to be sleeping. The other is looking at the sleeping one. That’s Gogo and Didi! 

So, that’s it for that! It’s been on my mind for over a few weeks now why they put that in there. The play was fun to read, there’s a bit about the third person who joins them that isn’t very relevant to the read here. I also was heavily reminded of Spirited Away during the little sequence to get the achievement. There’s a lot packed into this! 

Tl;dr the themes visited in the story of Penacony, and the character dynamics of Aven and Ratio were inspired a little by this play. They are made for each other. They are married. Aventio real. 

I wrote more on the philosophy of Aventurine and Dr Ratio here in another post.

The play is available to read online. The wikipedia entry of this play helped in this research So did this video: Why should you read "Waiting For Godot"? - Iseult Gillespie - YouTube

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 1

You're struggling a bit to comprehend the fact that you really did agree to this whole week-long thing with him. Luckily for you, Jungkook knows exactly how to ease you into things. But wait- why is he naked?!

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, non-sexual nudity, safeword discussion, Corruption kink, some backstory on JK, Shibari, wax play, Dom/Sub dynamics (beginner/introductory), minor sub-drop, slight angst, dry humping, cumming inside underwear, massages, mentions of primal play, mentions of pet play, very light orgasm control, hinted praise kink, JK in nothing but dark grey Calvin's for like... 90% of this, hinted big dick!JK, they both in love it's kinda cute,

Shibari: a form of artistic bondage using rope to create visually appealing patterns on the skin.

Wax play: the use of body-safe candles to drop wax onto someone's skin.

Corruption kink: gaining pleasure from corrupting a seemingly innocent person.

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

A/N: I'll include a short definition of the kinks in every chapter because I just know someone's gonna ask/complain that I don't explain things enough in my works haha. Also my smut writing is kinda rusty I've noticed, so I apologize for that as well...

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"So.." You say through your food, chopsticks seemingly aiming for any piece of meat that could be done next on the barbecue in front of you on the table. "..do we like, need some fifty-shades-of-grey-type contract?" You ask Jungkook, who rolls his eyes.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head, drinking some water. "Don't tell me you saw that movie too." He asks, and you shrug.

"Saw it with Jimin and Yoongi back when it was in the theaters." You say. "Yoongi said there was a lady who literally masturbated in the front rows, but I don't believe that. Who would do that in public?" You cringe to yourself, and Jungkook watches you for a second.

He's gonna put a no on voyeurism for you then, judging from that reaction.

"I'm surprised Yoongi went." Jungkook chuckles.

"Me too. Wasn't really sure why he did." You tell Jungkook, snatching a piece of meat for yourself. "He just complained over it the entire time anyways."

"Yeah, well-" Jungkook says, reaching for the scissors to cut up some meat. "-he's in the same scene as I am, so I'm not surprised he thought the movie was dogshit too." He explains, and your eyes widen.

"Wait, Yoongi ties people up too?!" You hiss, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head, laughing to himself.

"That's the tamest thing he does." He laughs. "Yoongi actually.. showed me most of the things I know." Jungkook offers, putting the scissors back to the side to instead pick up his chopsticks again. You wonder what he means by that.

"Like.. what?" You ask him, unsure- but you can't deny the curiosity inside of you. You had a hunch about Yoongi for a while now- and in a way, you can see him being in the whole scene a lot more than Jungkook. Jungkook is your fluffy buff but cute best friend- Yoongi has this odd aura to him that feels almost like a warning that he's hiding more of himself than he shows.

"I'm a Dominant person, right?" He asks you, and you shrug. "I like to be in charge, command and take the lead during.. scenes."

"Yeah, that part-" You say, stuffing a steaming piece of meat into your mouth, almost burning your tongue, "-I know about that stuff. Like, dom and sub, top and bottom all that." You nod, and he acknowledges it too.

"Good. Then you probably also have read that the best Dom's have been sub's in the past." He simply tells you.

"… so Yoongi tied you up before?" You ask, and Jungkook lets his head fall for a second.

"You're so cute sometimes, you know that?" He shakes his head, before he continues. "No, he actually didn't. I learned that part all by myself." He explains gently. "But before I could take charge, I had to learn. Someone had to get me into this stuff somehow, right?" He shrugs.

"So you and Yoongi were a couple at some point?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"Yoongi and I had something similar to.. us, one could say." He explains across from you. "Simple exploration, nothing more than that." He tells you, before his chopsticks reach out to steal a piece of food right from between yours- and when you look up, he's staring right at you. "So now that I think of it, Yoongi and I had nothing like we do." He says.

"H..how so?" You ask, slightly intimidated.

"Because I don't just want to explore and leave you be after this week." Jungkook says. "I hope you know that I'm aiming for something entirely different here."

"For what?" You wonder, and he leans back, crossing his arms, grill in between you both sizzling loudly.

"Your trust." He shrugs. "Your love." He offers.

"What if I can't love the same as you do?" You say, a little defeated. You know Jungkook likes you- it's no secret. And you know he knows that you like him too- because it's no secret either.

"Then we'll search until we find what works." He responds.

"But-" You start, but he reaches out instead, a warm hand over yours cutting you off in midst of your sentence as he speaks to you, voice just as warm as his skin.

"I won't give up without trying first." He tells you. "And neither should you."

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"Why here?" You ask, as he adjusts the couch into a makeshift bed for the time being. You'll be staying the entire week with him, and you'd agreed to that, because you've stayed over a lot of times before. Jungkook's apartment is nothing new- it's familiar, like a second home, warm and comforting.

"Because my bedroom is too intimidating-" He starts, tucking in a bedsheet in the corners of the couch. "-and I don't want to ruin your own with memories that might be unpleasant." Jungkook offers.

"Oh." you simply say, unsure. You've not yet thought about the possibility of him doing something you.. don't like. What happens then? Will you have to leave, or will the week end before it's even begun? Will it make things awkward, and weird?

"Hey." Jungkook calls out softly, holding out a hand. You look at him confused. "The blanket?" He asks, and you remember now that you're holding one for yourself to sleep under tonight, giving it to him. He puts it in a corner for now, same with the pillows, before he pats the couch for you to join him on. "Are you scared?" He asks, and you shake your head- albeit a little unsure.

"Just.. nervous." You say. "It'll be weird."

"Maybe." He admits. "A lot of things are weird first time. Nothing wrong about that." He shrugs.

You sit down on the makeshift bed next to him, when he chuckles, and brushes your hair over your shoulder. "I'll go shower real quick, alright? You just get yourself comfortable." He tells you, and you nod, watching him as he leaves to walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

It's clear that he's taking his time in there, because even after an hour, he's not yet returned. Or maybe longer? You're not sure, because you know you've somewhat dozed off on the bed when you feel his hand on your shoulder, simple strap top giving him access to a lot of bare skin there. He smells nice, and when you reach out, his skin is warm.

Wait- skin?

The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with his bare legs- he's only really dressed in some… dark grey, very form-fitting Calvin Klein's that pretty much hide almost nothing, really. It makes you sit up suddenly, body having to take a moment for a second after the rather sudden movement, a chuckle heard from Jungkook who seems entirely unbothered by his almost-nudity. "Sorry I took a bit longer. I had to get some stuff." He explains, sitting up properly himself.

"Why- why are you naked?" You ask, unsure where to look. In his opinion, you're so.. adorably shy just from the mere sight of his bare skin that it makes his inner desire stir a little. The fact that he's gonna be the one to really help you discover some of your hidden fantasies gives him chills- the good kind, of course.

He can't wait for what you might be hiding.

"I'm technically not." He raises his brows playfully, before crossing his arms- noticing the way your eyes focus on them for a good moment. "And considering why you're here, you'll soon have to get undressed too." He shrugs.

"Oh.." You hum yet again today, looking down on your body. You didn't really think about that. Compared to his toned body, you're.. an embarrassment.

"A body is just a body." He tells you. "I know you don't like yours, but I promise you it doesn't look the same to me as it does to you." He reassures you.

"Do I have to.. like.." You mumble, and he understands.

"You don't have to do anything." He promises. "We can just forget about this whole thing-"

"No!" You deny, shaking your head immediately. You do want this. You do want him to.. love you the way he does love others. Or maybe you want to somehow make him love you in a more.. special way. You're not sure- you don't really know what exactly you want right now, but you do know that you trust him.

You trust him.

"I trust you." You say out loud, grabbing the hem of your shirt- when he reaches out.

"..can I?" He wonders, and you nod, raising your arms without thinking so he can easily pull the item of clothing over your head. It's cute, the way you already feed into his own interests and kinks, without even knowing- and is that a piercing decorating your belly button? "Good girl." He purrs, lifting your shirt over your head, before slip out of your leggings, sitting back down. His hands move around your back slowly, fingers easily finding the clasp of your bra to undo it, letting the piece of underwear fall down easily from your shoulders and into your lap. "Hey-" Jungkook says, and you look up at him. "-you're fine." He smiles, and you nod.

You're fine.

"You can keep on the rest." He says, referring to your panties. At least you chose some cute ones, you think to yourself a bit relieved, as you nod. "I know you said you can't imagine it-" He starts, grabbing some pale pink and rather… delicate looking rope from the side. "But I'd like to try it, still." He asks, and you nod. "I won't restrain you this time. I'll only show you what it feels like, so you can decide for yourself if you enjoy the sensation or not." He says, and again, you only quietly nod. "But before that.. we have to address this first." He chuckles, looking at you. "I need.. verbal responses from you. Not just somewhat of an answer."

"Like.. do I need to call you sir, or something?" You ask, and he smirks.

"If you want to, you can." He smiles. "But you don't have to. A simple yes or no works just fine for me. And-" He adds on, undoing the neatly folded nylon rope in his hands as he speaks. "-We need a safeword."

"A safeword?" You repeat, and he nods.

"Something other than stop or no that you say to end a scene and get you out of whatever position you might be in." He explains. "Preferably something odd, that you wouldn't normally say during sex, so it won't be used by accident."

"So like.. Tiger?" You ask, not really thinking about it, and he nods.

"Tiger it is." He agrees, tapping your folded knees. "Turn around for me, yeah?"

"Yes." You say, moving to sit in front of him, making him chuckle.

"Cute." He comments under his breath, before he positions the rope right under your chest. "Tell me.. what do you usually do?" He wonders, and you don't answer for a moment.

"Like.. when I do it myself?" You ask, and he hums an agreeing reply.

"Yes. I'd like to know." He tells you. "So I'll have somewhat of an.. idea what is safe and comfortable for you." He explains his reasons, while he moves and adjusts the pale pink rope around your torso. You've almost instinctively moves your hands to hold onto your neck so your arms are out of the way, and he can't help but grin about that.

So much to 'I can't see myself enjoying that'.

"Uhm.. I don't know-" You begin, unsure how to really talk about that. "I have like.. toys, n' stuff, and I usually do it in the bathroom cause I get the bed dirty otherwise.." You explain.

"Toys?" He asks, pulling the rope snug in some places- and while it's tight, it doesn't bother you at all, surprisingly. You understand when he said that some people feel some sense of security from it- it feels actually quite nice, even the knots you can feel dig a bit harsher into your skin.

"Yeah like.." You take a deep breath, somewhat to test if that's still a possibility- and you can, while his fingers seem to adjust some knots in the back. "..a normal… dildo." You cringe at saying it out loud, moving on quickly. "And a vibrating.. thing. I don't use anything else." You admit, and he chuckles, as he taps your butt.

"Sit up for a second." He commands, and you do so, letting him guide the two ends of the rope in between your legs before he helps you sit down again. "So other than that, I guess you just use your hand, am I right?" He assumes, and you nod.

"Yes." You add on quickly, squirming a bit at the sensation of the rope between your legs. You have to control yourself. It's clear that he said he doesn't want sex- yet.

"You're free to get.. turned on, by the way." He tells you, teasingly pulling on the ends that run through your legs as if to underline his statement. "After all, this is about you."

"But-" You complain weakly, trying not to move to much. "-What about you?" You ask, and he shrugs, something you cannot see.

"I'm getting my satisfaction, don't worry." He explains. You're not sure how that would work- but you don't question it either. Say.." He starts, tapping your elbows. "How do you feel, right now?"

"Good." You nod to yourself. "It's.. surprisingly comfortable. It feels nice." You say.

"It looks nice, too." he offers, hands moving over your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. "Very pretty." He praises, and you decide you don't care if he's just speaking about his work- you take this praise for yourself, using it to fuel your own emotional state in this moment. He runs his hands over your arms that are now comfortably down, hands holding yours for a second. "Let yourself go." He chuckles. "You're still tense."

"I can't help it.." You complain weakly, unsure what to do. It does feel nice, you want to move- but in a way, it's not quite right yet.

"Then maybe I can help.." He offers, hands testing the waters it seems like as they run over your thighs, just touching, nothing else. "Would you want that?" He asks, and you nod, eyes closed. "Words, darling." He demands, face close to yours while his fingers suddenly dig into your skin, gentle punishment for not following what he'd told you to do at the beginning.

"Yes.!" You almost gasp out, when one of his hands moves to grab onto the back of the artistically tied harness, pulling you, arching your back for you as he forces you to rest your upper body against his arm. You can practically feel the way your underwear soaks up your arousal, rope suddenly moving a lot more easily with the help of it between your legs.

"Show me how your hips can move." He hums into your ear, and what should feel weird comes naturally. Like in a trance you follow his words, let yourself fall because he's basically seeing all of you right now anyways- and he's seen much more before, so how bad can it really be? You trust him.

You trust him.

You can hear his breathing right next to your ear, and your hand starts to wander- before it stops. "Can-" You begin, swallowing down before you can continue. "can I touch you?" You ask, unsure if the same rules that apply to you apply to him as well. It's only fair if they do, right? It's only fair to ask him for permission, right?

"Yes." He answers, and with that, your hand blindly searches- finds his knee, moves up his thigh, warm skin underneath your rather cold fingertips earning a change in the pace at which he's breathing in. You hold onto his leg for a moment, feel the muscles move underneath the skin for a good while, as you become more and more desperate for a release of any sorts. You want to touch him too, but you don't know how- so you just leave your hand where it is, not moving any further.

His head, meanwhile, leans down into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, while the hand that's not holding onto your harness moves over your chest, grabs onto the soft flesh with almost rough motions. You can only imagine the sight of his inked hand holding strongly onto your skin, thumb running over your nipple as your breathing hitches, legs moving in any way you can imagine to adjust your position.

But it's not enough.

Only when his hand sneaks between your underwear, the rope and your skin do you finally make any progress, breathing heavier as his fingers seem to play around with you just the way you like it. And it doesn't take long for you to come undone, back arching more, eyes clenching shut as he helps you ride it out for as long as you can.

You notice after a moment or two how he has already begun to untie you- and in a way, you're confused.

"What're you doing?" You slur a bit exhausted, surprised yourself how much energy this seemed to have taken out of you.

"Untying you." He chuckles, continuing to undo all the knots while he holds you close to him.

"Yeah but.." You mumble, moving a bit so he can reach your back better. "What about you?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"This isn't about me." He declines. "And I've had my fun, don't worry about me." He reassures, gently pulling out the rope from between your legs, making you cringe as you feel how wet you are down there. "There we go." He softly hums, running his palms over the red skin where the rope has left it's mark here and there. It doesn't hurt- though you do have to admit that your back and neck are kind of sore now. "How do you feel?" He asks, and you shrug- hissing when it stings.

"I think I pulled something, dunno.." You say, sitting up as he rolls up the rope again, setting it aside, before he helps you sit properly for a moment. "I'll go wash up.. sorry for the uhm.. sheets.." You mumble as you see the damp spot where you've sat on.

"No problem." He shakes his head, getting up as well to help you up. It's only when you enter the bathroom and Jungkook is still behind you that you suddenly question what's going to happen next. "What?" He chuckles, amused.

"Uh.. I need to.." You struggle, unsure how to tell him what you want to say. "I wanna shower?" You question almost, and he laughs.

"I know." He confirms. "And I wanna make sure you're fine." He tells you, and you look at him confused. "You might feel fine right now- but once that adrenaline goes down-" He tells you, a finger gently tapping your collarbone. "-you might not be."

But you cross your arms, stubborn as you are. "I'm fine." You tell him, and he smirks suspiciously, looking at you with his arms now crossed as well. "You said a no means no and I'm saying no right now." You huff, and he reacts at that-

though not in the way you thought he would.

Because he simply nods, uncrosses his arms, and sets some towels out for you to use. "Don't worry about running around naked, I'm not bothered." He simply snickers, before he leaves you alone, a moment of silence soon interrupted by him moving around in the living room, presumably changing the sheet over the couch. You slowly take off your pretty soiled panties, putting them in the hamper to wash before you get into the shower to clean up.

And much to your own dismay, Jungkook seems to be right, because suddenly, as the water runs over your skin and you're almost done cleaning up, you're not fine anymore.

Dark, rather upsetting thoughts suddenly grow inside your head, making you feel not shame- but something almost like regret. You should have insisted to do something for him, right? Maybe he wanted to shower with you because he felt like you were abandoning him.. just because he is a guy, doesn't mean that he's without any feelings. Did you upset him? He probably won't tell you even if he did.

A knock on the bathroom door is heard, and you're busy trying to pull yourself together, when Jungkook's still bare arm reaches out to turn off the shower, before he wraps a towel around you. Quietly he dries your hair with a towel before he leads you to your makeshift bed, now with new sheets, where you sit in silence until he returns with brush and hairdryer. Everything goes by in a blur, until you feel Jungkook's hands on your shoulders, his legs next to yours as he holds you close to himself.

You're waiting for the 'I told you so'.

But he doesn't say it.

Instead, he simply silently sleeps on the couch with you, letting you cling onto him throughout the small nap you take in the middle of the day as much as you want.

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A few hours later, when you wake up, things are.. weird. Just like you feared.

Jungkook is still sleeping heavily, right behind you with you laying on one of his outstretched arms, biceps serving as a surprisingly comfortable headrest. He smells nice, his body is warm, and he looks relaxed as he still slumbers away.

And yet, you feel odd.

He just quietly took care of you after.. what you did a few hours ago, but you don't understand why you actually felt that way. You know that it was irrational of you- nothing had happened, everything was fine, you made a decision that you felt most comfortable in. So why were you so distraught over it later?

Well, he told you that you might end up like that. You just didn't listen.

He slowly stirs behind you, waking up as he watches you already sitting on the couch, wide awake. He's careful but not overly cautious as he slowly gets up as well, simply observing for a minute or two before he decides to speak up.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and you shrug. You're not sure. You don't know it yourself.

"I don't know." You answer because of that, because you can't give him anything than that.

"Hm, I can imagine." He hums simply, running a hand through his chaotic bedhair. "I knew you'd drop, but I also knew.. you had to experience it yourself." He shrugs, watching you with still sleepy eyes.

"Drop?" You wonder, and he nods leaning back on his hands.

"Think of it as.." he thinks for a good example, "when people go to concerts. And they end up crying afterwards. It's the same principle, at its core." He says, and only now, as you turn to face him, do you realize you're only wearing panties- just like he's only wearing his boxers, making you snatch up the blanket to cover yourself. You earn nothing but a chuckle from him. "What we did together gave you a rush. And without any aftercare, people crash down from it." He explains softly.

"So that's why.. you wanted to shower with me?" You ask. "Aftercare?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Its important. For everyone involved, not just the.. one receiving it." He offers.

"Were you.. upset?" You ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"A little." He honestly replies, and you're thankful for that. It only adds to your reasons to trust him.

"I'm sorry." You say, pulling the blanket a bit closer. "I didn't know."

"Now you do." He simply chuckles, a hand on your back as he gets up, and walks into the bathroom, getting some things you assume before he emerges again. He's still almost naked as he walks back to you, smiling in a friendly manner as he sets down a towel, and tells you to lay down on your stomach on it. You do as told- determined not to push him away this time.

He notices that change in your behavior almost immediately- and he can't help but feel excited about it.

You're swaying your legs a little as you watch him light a candle close by, setting it on a table for now before he leans back and watches you it seems like. You realize it's one of those he'd received in that package earlier today- and you're curious. "What're you doing with that?" You ask, chin on your arms.

"I'll.. let some of the wax drop onto your skin." He says, chuckles when you tense up. "Dont worry. They're body safe, very low melting point. I'm only using things I believe you can handle." He offers, when you feel something drop onto your back- right between your shoulder blades.

True. It's hot- but not unpleasantly so. Maybe like the warmth of a cup of tea maybe.

"After all…" he hums, one more drop under the last falling down. "…You're not only getting to know me.." he continues, voice almost.. sensual as he speaks, another two drops falling in quick sucession of one another onto your skin, straight on your spine. "…but I'm getting to know you, too." He tells you with amusement, free hand softly running over your back. "Your body is talking to me a lot more openly than you do, darling.." he purrs teasingly, and only now do you notice how dark it is in his apartment. How long did you two sleep? It must be almost nighttime by now- led lights and flame from the candle illuminating the room enough to see comfortably, while he runs his fingers over your skin, another set of drops falling down the length of your spine.

It's almost agonizing how slow this all is. Frustrating, even. But you try and stay composed, maybe that'll earn you praise?

It's only when he sets the candle aside, and starts to dig the heels of his palms into your muscles that you sigh out in pleasure, feeling how your sore neck and back relax. Of course he'd know everything about massages. Sometimes, you're convinced he knows everything.

It feels childish to think like that, but sometimes, you've caught yourself looking at Jungkook as if he's the answer to all your problems. As if he can just pick you up and whisk you off your feet, hold you close and fight all monsters like a knight in shining armor ripped straight out of cheesy romance novels. He makes you feel like that, at least. And maybe it's time to let him prove if he can be prince charming.

"There we go." He praises suddenly, hands still moving as he sits behind you, legs pulled over his thighs while he continues to push out the knots in your neck and shoulders. "Let yourself go." He mumbles to you, as if he's hypnotizing you. If he does, it's working, weirdly enough. "I'll take over from here, hm?" He asks, no, states, and you simply sigh, closing your eyes.

"Yes." Is your answer, and you can't see the way his lips twitch.

His arms push your legs closer to him, manhandles you gently to have your core right over what you assume must be his own length, barely contained in his underwear. You wonder what he looks like. You've been told you can't take much- how will he make it work? He feels strong, big- maybe too much to handle. But you want to learn, maybe there's a way. You want to take him, even if it hurts. You've never felt like that before- it had never been something.. attractive to you. But you want him to make you take it. You trust that he will, now that you think about it.

You don't even question if he will. You know he will- the anticipation lays in how.

Are you already realizing it? What you could have with him? Probably- maybe. Or maybe it's just the way his bulge feels pressed against your core that's making you dizzy in the head. Yeah. That could be it, too. The way it's hot and hard, giving you nothing but a teaser of what he's got hidden away from you. How cruel he is. You want to see him.

"So needy.." he hums, chuckles, as his hands move with the help of the oil from the candle, fingers sliding easily down your back, to find their way around your waist to hold you. "Poor thing.." he mumbles towards you, grabs a bit more harshly at your flesh as if to test, and you want to whine-

But you swallow it down, making Jungkook tilt his head a bit with a smirk.

Not quite there yet, he thinks to himself. But I've got six more days to go to make you mine.

"Tell me what you're thinking." He asks- demands, because there's no question about this sentence you notice. It makes your spine tingle, a sudden urge to please and voice out your thoughts boiling up in your throat, as you let out a breath first and foremost, and he can't help but be affected by it, length in his underwear twitching impatiently at the sight of you so lost in pleasure. Oh the things he'd love to do to you make him greedy almost, mind coming up with scenario after scenario he'd love to see you in.

How long could he edge you until you'd cry and beg for him to let you have your release? Or how often could he make you cum until your body would give up?

How far would you go to please him?

Would you let him hunt you down like nothing but prey, just to feast on you, sex all bite and scratch and nothing but primal urges needing to be satiated? Or maybe you'd rather play his pretty little pet, loyal at his feet, patiently awaiting his command?

There's so many ways he can think of to corrupt you.

And he wants to try them all.

"You-" you answer his earlier question, hiding your face in your arms as you move your hips, grinding over his crotch on the hunt for your release. He'll be easy on you today, won't tell you no, will let you have it if you so desire. "I'm.. thinking-" you stutter a bit muffled into your arms, "-of you..!" you press out, and he can't help his smile from forming as he leans back his body, pulls you a little more roughly over his groin, unable to hide his growl as you become more and more shameless, moving erratically to gain any form of friction from him.

"Good." he sighs out as an answer to you, hands grabbing at your bottom, the urge to hit the soft flesh at least once agonizing- but he controls himself, holds back, just as to not overwhelm you too much at once. Instead, he presses you down, helps the movements of your lower body, earns a whimper as payment for it, and he can't help but be affected by it as well. "The only thing you're allowed to think of is me, understood?" he tests out, and much to his delight, you nod.

"yes-!" it feels like you almost want to say something else- and he wonders what your choice would've been, but he doesn't pry. He's got enough time to find out about it soon, after all- and he can be surprisingly patient, especially when it comes to things he's passionate about.

And god, is he passionate about you.

Suddenly, he wants to know. Wants to test you, despite his earlier choice of wanting to take is soft and slow- as his hands reach out, arms hooking underneath your thighs, suddenly lifting you up, leaving you with nothing before he turns you around onto your back, hands on your hips pressing down, preventing any movement. "Please-!" you beg, and he watches in interest how you struggle against him.

"Please, what?" he asks, acting nonchalant. "What do you want?" he wonders as if he doesn't know, and you look at him like you're searching for something, or maybe you're just collecting courage. For what, he doesn't know- yet.

"Please- let me.. cum.." you try, but it's not quite right for him. You also don't seem uncomfortable with the situation- you seem more like you're holding back, like you're unsure, hesitant.

"Hm, that won't do."he shakes his head, leaning further away, though his hold on you still keeps you still. "Try again." he tells you, and you close your eyes, like you're bracing yourself.

"Please let me cum!" You repeat, though this time with a lot more confidence, and he grins at that, one of his hands taking the front of your panties into it, before he pulls it up, fabric slipping between your lower lips, already drenched in your arousal.

"Go ahead then." he tells you. "Give me a good show, yeah?" he almost sings, and you immediately move, frantically so, hips rolling in desperation as he watches, muscles in your thighs stuttering especially when he helps you assist, pushing you towards your orgasm a lot faster than you anticipated.

It leaves you gasping for air, hips stuttering as you try and catch your breath, core clenching around nothing for a good while. The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with the sight of someone more akin to a demon, a predator, Eden's sin recreated as a human person- the sweat on his skin making him look as if he's glowing, eyes sharp and pupils blown wide, one hand carefully running over your thigh while he other is on his-

oh.

Oh..

There's a clear and surprisingly big stain on his dark grey Calvin Klein's, and you turn red as you realize what that must be. It gives you an odd boost of confidence, knowing that the sigh of you had done that to him- had helped him get to this point, even if just a little. It still counts, you still take it- as he smiles, and leans down to gently kiss your cheek.

"Good girl." he praises quietly, and this time you don't mask your whimper of pleasure, this one of different nature as you bathe in the praise clearly directed at you, you, and only you.

You feel drunk.

But this time, you happily let him move you around, pick you up and carry you into the bathroom, where he helps you step out of your underwear, your state leaving no room to feel shy about your nudity in front of him it seems like. He's used to it- it's nothing new to witness, but considering it's you in this state, he's even more gentle than he would usually be in a situation like this. how can he be with anyone else after you?

He doesn't know. And for now, he won't think of that.

All he knows is that underneath the shower, and later on on the couch where you'll sleep for the entirety of the week, he's got you.

And he'll do his best to keep you at his side forever.