#and then it happens AGAIN and it's just a viscous cycle at that point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

1K notes · View notes

katie-writes24 · 3 years

Text

Fell Into The Same Arms Pt.2

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, angst, a pinch of fluff, ANGST, suggestive material, mentions of drug use, sad sad sad

Part 1

I’m starting to believe I will never just get straight to the point? But it’s whatever. This wasn’t even suppose to have a part 2, but everyone hyped it up which was super shocking to me? And luckily for you I write a lot when I’m in need of a vent soooo yeah! Anyways, let me know if you want to be tagged! Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy!

It was cold, the wind a lot stronger this morning because of last nights storm. The window was open.

Thomas always left the window open, no matter how many times she complained.

"What if a bird flies in? What if someone climbs up and breaks in? And I don't like those bug noises!"

"What bug noises?"

"Like crickets and just little noises- I don't know but they creep me out!"

"I get too hot when I sleep, you know that," Thomas shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, climbing into bed and folding his arms behind his head.

"Yeah, well I get too cold now," Y/N gets in on her own side, proving her point and wrapping herself in the blanket, making Thomas chuckle.

"Come 'ere, I'll keep you warm!" He wrapped his arms around her torso, cradling the back of her neck and breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo. Y/N curled in and let out a blissful sigh, finally recovering some warmth.

"Don't let me go," She whispered before nodding off to sleep.

"I won't, I promise."

He was keeping his promise.

She should get up and go back to her own apartment, tell Hercules about everything and beg him not to tell anyone because she didn't want to hear the much deserved I told you so's. She should maybe stop at the drug store and pick up some pain meds and concealer, at least try and make the bruises fade. When Angelica calls her and asks where she is, she should tell her that she had a rough night and can't make it to work. She should leave this bed...

But she can't fight the warmth of Thomas's chest, can't seem to remove the covers and face the world just yet.

Lost in her own thoughts, she soon felt a hand run up and down her spine slowly. He was hesitant, and he had every right to be. They shouldn't indulge themselves in this, they both know that it will only hurt them later.

Last night, she let herself fall, both in her own beaten head and in Thomas's arms. She let him fix her up and tell her that it would be okay, and he let her rest in his bed because he knows that she always enjoyed the soft, fancy foam. Thomas didn't call anybody because he knew that Y/N didn't want that.

None of this would've happened if she just stayed home last night. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she opened her mouth and fought the fight that wasn't hers.

"You're thinking too loud."

He was one to talk, really.

His fingers found her scalp and started to massage it gently, and there was no resisting the feeling. It was a moment of peace, something she hadn't gotten in a while.

"When's the last time we were in bed together?"

Just like that, it's gone.

Y/N quickly removed herself out of his embrace and folded the covers back. Thomas only sighed dramatically, "Don't get so sensitive, Y/N."

"Yeah, that's rich. I think you should just be proud that you managed to bring me upstairs in the first place." She was being bitter, she knew it, but he sounded too smug about something that didn't even happen last night. Turning to face him, she could feel tension forming in the air.

"You're right, excuse me for trying to be a nice host!"

"Is that what you would call it? Because you had that dumb look on your face where you think you know exactly what you're doing, but you really don't. It's so...ugh, it's so practical of you to think last night was a whole thing!"

"May I remind you, that you're the one that broke this off." It was a stab, and again, she deserved it. But she didn't want to get into it right now, not when she was sore from a viscous beating from the previous night.

"I don't have time for this, Thomas-"

"When will you have time? We never even- we never sat down and talked about it!" Thomas was out of bed now, pacing the room and looking at her with narrowed eyes. "Will you ever make time for me? Do you even want to try and fix this?"

"If I wanted to fix it, then I would've when it happened!"

Thomas snapped his jaw shut, staring at her in disbelief. Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead and looking up to meet his eyes. "Look, I know that this is all my fault, everything is my fault! I shouldn't have came here last night, I shouldn't have moved in with you, I shouldn't have said yes, and I shouldn't-"

"You shouldn't have said yes? Really? So...so-what, you just never loved me at all?"

"Of course I love you Thomas! I should've never gotten involved with you in the first place, that's the problem! I shouldn't have brought you into this fucked up life I have. I don't even remember why you liked me in the first place. I was in AA, and I obviously wasn't getting any better! And look at me now, look at my arm-" She thrusted her arm in his line of sight, making him flinch backwards either at the motion or the scrapes and bruises that layered her skin. "There's no helping this, Thomas."

The silence that came afterwards was deafening, both of them standing still, looking at each other. There was nothing more she could do to patch up the hole, there was no saving them.

"I thought you were getting better," Thomas was barely above a whisper, and the quiver in his voice made her feel guilty.

"Yeah...well, so did I." She felt calmer now, there wasn't a reason to be, but she felt like it was pointless anyway. "It's been a rough week. Too many tasks, too many problems. This guy at work....he said that they would help me sleep. I don't know really...what they do, but it's definitely not sleep."

"So, you're taking without knowing what it is? That's just...that's great-"

"I'm not here for a lecture, Thomas."

"Then what are you here for?"

Shockingly, she wasn't expecting that one. There was more to it, a long story that revolved around Alexander and John, one about Eliza telling her to go back to group, one that ended all contact with Lafayette. There was even more to the story of last night, but she was afraid if she told Thomas all of this, he would never open that door again to her, not even if she banged on it crying for help.

She was here because when she fell hard on the cement last night, she thought that it was the end, that she finally lost the battle and it would all be over soon. The first person she thought of was Thomas; if he would come to her funeral, if he would keep in contact with her friends, if he would ever think positively about her again?

There was even a sliver of hope that maybe he would come rushing down the corner, see her and help her. Luckily, the worker taking out the trash across the street saw the scene, started yelling, making threats about calling the police. Even though the threats weren't at her, she couldn't risk it, and she fled.

Looking over at her ex, and seeing his eyes all watery, she then realized she said all of that out loud.

"I always regretted it," Y/N clears her throat, trying to fight her own tears. "Always wish that I could take it all back, never even step foot in that club and take what was offered. I really do, Thomas. If I had just done that, maybe we would still... be together."

And what could you say to that? Thomas was always one to make it known when someone was in the wrong, would always correct someone when they said some asinine shit that he knew wasn't true. She could name three times that he called her out, one time that he even called James out, and she couldn't even keep count on how many times he told Alexander off for being absolutely wrong.

Her last statement..there was nothing wrong about that, because even he knew it was the truth.

She let drugs and people and lies overcome her, and it took a toll in their relationship. They both knew the last time they were in this house together that years of built up trust, compassion and love was destroyed in one minute.

Just when she was about to grab her keys and walk out, out of his life for good, for the better, he scoffed.

"You said love," It was barely above a whisper, but she could hear him perfectly.

Still, she played dumb. "What?"

"When I asked if it was real? If you ever loved me? You said you love me...present tense."

Looking up at his wide eyes, she could remember the nights where she would stare into them like they never ended, like there was a tiny galaxy in his pupils. It made her warm, and he would never look away.

Right now they look hopeful, the stars shining a bit brighter than before.

Y/N gestured small, not really knowing what to say or do. She'd either lie to Thomas or lie to herself, and she had lied to him enough, hasn't she?

Thomas crossed the room, placing his big hands against her arms. Their foreheads touched, and he was too close, it was bound to get ugly. It was bound to fall back into the same cycle if Y/N let him stay this close.

"We shouldn't," Y/N whispered, voice cracking and not meeting his face until he tilted her chin up. There were his eyes again...

"You're probably right," Thomas huffed and licked his lips.

She didn't like the sound of that, she even shook her head to convince herself that this was all just bad bad bad.

"I need help, T."

His thumb swiped against the water on her cheek, shushing her. "We'll get you help. We can do this, you can do this, Y/N. Just let me be there when you do it."

It was tempting, so tempting.

“You know, maybe it’s not exactly fate...but Y/N I know that you were on my doorstep last night for a reason, let it be yours or not, who cares.”

There’s a thought. Maybe if she didn’t show up, she wouldn’t be in this situation, with Thomas so close that she could just selfishly take what she wants. The temptation was right in front of her and yet it wasn’t hers to have.

“Let this be our second chance...please.”

Thomas was begging, he never begged, not like this.

"I can be there, by your side. I will be...just let me in."

“Your relationship was doomed from the start.”

“Don't think about it too much. Things happen.”

“He doesn't need you, not when you're falling apart and breaking from the seams.”

Y/N leaned up and met his soft lips, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him as close as possible. Thomas wrapped his arms around her back, kissing back just as firm.

Call it cliche, but it felt like Y/N was back home, like this whole time she was on a ridiculously long getaway, except that she had never meant to getaway in the first place. This connection was what she needed all along. Or maybe Y/N just needed to be around Thomas, just talk to him. Maybe they were meant to fight and scream and argue and just be. Maybe she was meant to get hooked again only to show up and have Thomas take her into his arms willingly.

Their lips moved against each other with the same rhythm as before, with passion and skill. Thomas massaged her tongue with his own, only pulling back when he was out of breath.

They weren't sure what the future would look like, if Y/N ever would get better, would actually try to. Maybe she'd break Thomas's heart again, and it would be a lesson to him. Maybe they would both take it slow and learn how to build up from here without damaging one another unknowingly.

Good or bad, they were willing to give it a try, no matter how many of their loved ones told them how terrible it was to go back to the one that hurt you most.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!

Jefferson tag list: @notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

#thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x oc #my writings #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #hahaha #I was super in my feelings when I wrote this #but anyways #it’s fine we all need some angst in our lives

60 notes · View notes

gameofdrarry · 3 years

Text

Wizards Hearts Recs: Werewolf Creature!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Embers by shiftylinguini Rated: Explicit Words: 41216 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, First Time, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Draco Malfoy, Omega Harry Potter, Werewolves, Heat Companion Harry Potter, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Masturbation, Knotting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Marking, Scent Kink, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, sexual negotiation, H/D Career Fair 2017 Summary: Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Heart Like Neon by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) Rated: Explicit Words: 41103 Tags: Sex Work, Sex worker Harry Potter, Rentboys, rentboy Harry potter, Past Harry/Ginny - Freeform, past Draco/Theo, Harry/OMC - Freeform, Trans Male Character, Trans Female Character, Switching, Transphobia, Tattoos, hung harry, POV Alternating, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Comeplay, Watersports, Duelling, Facials Summary: Bored of being The Chosen One, Harry discovers he rather likes sex and becomes a professional. He’s good at it, and part of why is that he can read people. Not minds, not Legilimens, but their whole self, and he can give them what they don’t even know they want. Enter Draco fucking Malfoy, enigma to everyone, including himself. Harry can’t help but want to break into him, to figure him out. And Draco, thinking he’ll fuck Potter on a lark, has no idea what he’s in for. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Who we are in the shadows by Quicksilvermaid Rated: Explicit Words: 99714 Tags: Dubious Consent, werewolf instincts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, child trafficking, Brief Claustrophobia, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past minor character death, Past Child Death, Bigotry & Prejudice, prejudice against werewolves, internalized prejudice, Murder, Stabbing, Poison, Hallucinations, Creature Fic, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, Masturbation, wanking, werewolf attack, Aural Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Biting, Marking, Claiming, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Edging, Secrets, Lies, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Loyalty, Loyalty Bond, Bonding, Angst, Domestic, Falling In Love, Enemies to Lovers, Self-Acceptance, Emotional Growth, Angst with a Happy Ending, References to Auror Brutality, H/D Erised 2019, Comeplay, Wall Sex, sex without lube, Identity Porn, Secret Identity Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Elusive Mate by 0idontknow0 Rated: Explicit Words: 25786 Tags: Rating: NC17, Fanart, Creature Fic Summary: Harry had done it (a) to save lives and (b) because the idea of him being Malfoy’s mate was clearly ridiculous, but now he had to tell Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Finding A Place To Call Home by marysiak Rated: Explicit Words: 54747 Tags: Alternate Universe, Creature Fic, Werewolves, Post-Hogwarts, Rough Sex, Top Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Summary: Feeling directionless after the war, Harry is unexpectedly torn out of his own universe and thrust into another, where he must hide out with Remus Lupin, Teddy and Draco Malfoy as Severus Snape and Hermione try to find a way to send him home and save both his and his unwitting doppelganger's lives. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 as much a light as a flame by p1013 Rated: Explicit Words: 6303 Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Mating Rituals, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Knotting, Scent Kink, Mating Bond, Outdoor Sex, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Art, Claiming, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: His mother paints a wolf on his chest, its eyes bracketing his heart, and its muzzle pointed towards his groin. His aunt fills in the spaces around his waist and ribs with symbols he's lost the meaning of in the wash of whatever plant had been mixed in with the steam. They move after her brush leaves his skin, turning from incomprehensible marks to his name to wolf to home to hunt and then back to misunderstanding again. His legs are painted in patterned bands, starting from his ankles and ending at his upper thighs. His groin is left unmarked, the pale and empty skin meant to leave no doubt of the Claim once he makes it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Burning the Ground by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill), traintracks Rated: Explicit Words: 10256 Tags: A/B/O-ish dynamic, Were-Creatures, Knotting, Rough Sex, Anal Sex, Bondage, Blow Jobs, sex on the floor, Rimming, Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, Mildly Dubious Consent Summary: "Strap him down," someone said, and Harry felt the rage thicken inside him -- the viscous fear. Magical bindings pulled taut around his wrists . . . He felt a wand touch his arm and then a sharp bite as something punctured the skin, and a sweet, cool tonic rushed his veins. His breathing slowed. His eyelids drooped. The ceiling went grey and dark. And then he heard a woman's voice sigh, "Someone, get Healer Malfoy." ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Omega's Binding by Madriddler Rated: Explicit Words: 49405 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Alpha/Omega, Omega Harry, Werewolves, Knotting, Fluff and Angst, Anal Fingering, Size Kink, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Watersports, No Horcruxes Summary: After a violent encounter, Harry Potter is turned into a werewolf. An Omega Werewolf, to be exact. Now dealing with heats and the ability to get pregnant, Harry must learn to live with his new forms and life, while a desire for revenge fuels him. Will he be able to resist his heat and vengeance? Or will he fall into an instinctual lust, and look for his Alpha? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Light More Beautiful by firethesound Rated: Explicit Words: 81255 Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Dubious Consent, Potions Accident, Post-Hogwarts, Aurors, Returning Home, Owls, Drinking, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Masturbation in Shower, Knotting, Rimming, Falling In Love, Case Fic, Loss of Virginity, Acronyms, Motorcycles, Christmas, Quidditch, Pining Summary: Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Run With Me by dragontara Rated: Mature Words: 16738 Tags: Animagus, Creature Fic, Werewolf Draco, Animagus Harry, Bottom Draco, Bonding, Knotting, snarky Draco Summary: Draco and Harry meet in the Forbidden Forest in their wolf forms falling fast and hard and eventually bonding with each other. Unfortunately bonding in their animal forms doesn't mean they are happily bonded straight away in a real life too. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by VeelaWings Rated: Mature Words: 1073 Tags: Pre-Slash, Screenplay/Script Format, Conversations, Veela Draco Malfoy, Werewolf Harry Potter, Guidance Counselors, in therapy, Depression, Self-Hatred, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Morbid Humor, Inappropriate Behavior from a Professional, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Blood Moon Rising by noelleification Rated: Mature Words: 38322 Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Wolfstar is canon, Sirius Black Lives, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Adoption, Slowburn Adoption, Drarry might happen at some point, idk - Freeform, Remus and Sirius adopt draco, Remus and Sirius as dads, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, So much angst, seriously get ready for angst, Abusive Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Potter but it's ridiculously gay, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Disaster Draco Malfoy, Trans Hermione Granger, Because we don't support TERFS in this household, Yearning, Sirius and Remus are in love but it doesn't mean they're smart enough to know it yet, so get ready for them to pine for awhile, uhhhhhh just have tissues ready I guess, I'm gonna try my hardest to make you cry, You're gonna suffer..., But you're gonna be... happy about it?, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, traumatized Draco, Draco Malfoy Has Issues, Tonks is best girl, Tonks as lesbian wine aunt, Tonks has big sister vibes, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks Never Happened, Everyone is LGBT, because fuck jk rowling, Found Family, Whump, this shit hurted, Parental Remus Lupin, Parental Sirius Black, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, this shit gets dark yall, just be prepared Summary: Draco Malfoy is cursed. Ever since Fenrir Greyback ripped him to shreds, Draco has transformed into a monster every month on the full moon. The change is painful, and living with Lucius Malfoy might be worse. But Draco is strong. He doesn’t need anyone, especially not Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin might be the only person in the world who understands what Draco is going through—but he has enough on his plate, between the still-raging wizarding war, the publicized nature of his status as a werewolf, and his best friend, Sirius Black, who Remus might think of in a more-than-friendly way. He certainly can’t take in a seventeen-year-old Death Eater—can he? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Howling Good Time by FleetofShippyShips Rated: Explicit Words: 5819 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Established Relationship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Full Moon, werewolf/human sex, Transformed Werewolf/Human Sex, Knotting, Consent Given Prior, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Morning After, Aftercare (delayed?), Scent Kink, Fluff, (hahaha both literal and emotional), Don't copy to another site, Come Scent Kink (i.e. some post-sex bum sniffing) Summary: They’d talked about this, and Draco had agreed that he would try it for Harry, once Harry had convinced him he was utterly serious and not fucking with him. The timing, however, was entirely up to Harry, and he'd decided tonight, this full moon, was the night. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Am I a werewolf? by a_reader_and_writer Rated: General Words: 1230 Tags: Werewolves, Curses, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Dramatic Draco Malfoy, Boyfriends, Fluff and Crack Summary: Draco is hit by the werewolf curse. The healers send him home and tell Harry and him to watch the symptoms. Of course this isn't as easy as it sounds with our drama queen Draco. ❤️ Read on AO3

#werewolves #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

24 notes · View notes

plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows · 3 years

Note

ok i'm back with another LIP-related Transformers question. In the event that there are LIPs on Cybertron, what kind of structures do you think they'll form? also, tangential but related, how do you see the weathering of LIPs on a Cybertron with radically different weathering ...i cant remember the word but the things that make it do that. Like, iirc there's no water on cybertron, so water-based weathering Just Wouldn't Happen, etc. How do you think that would change the way it looked?

also djfhlg sorry for presenting this like a high school essay question but genuinely i am SO curious and i love hearing about LIPs

[rubs dirty fly hands together]

In the event that there are LIPs on Cybertron, what kind of structures do you think they'll form?

There are a lot of options! :D

Dikes & sills - magma gets into cracks within the crust and solidifies into a sheet-like layer. If the magma follows the plane of existing strata, squeezing between layers, it forms a sill. If the magma cuts across layers, it forms a dike/dyke (US vs Brit spelling strikes again). Often you'll find lots of them associated with a single magmatic event - that's called a dyke swarm or a sill complex.

Lopoliths and laccoliths - like sills, but bulgy.

Batholiths - intrusive masses of igneous rock larger than 100 square km in area. Sometimes they're much bigger.

Cybertron's planetary interior, per Aligned, has a lot of hollow structures that go very deep. I think these are a natural conduit for rising magma to get to the surface. Depending on magmatic composition you might end up with an interesting thing where the tunnels are flooded but the surrounding metallic crust doesn't melt, so you end up with a magmatic cast of the tunnel network.

On the surface, if you have nice liquid magma, more mafic in composition, you'd get the layered flows that build up thick plateaus and weather into stepped terraces. Columnar jointing is a distinct possibility. If your magma is more viscous, you might get lava domes. If you have large-volume explosive eruptions, chances are you'll get tephras from ashfall and ignimbrite sheets from pyroclastic density currents.

how do you see the weathering of LIPs on a Cybertron with radically different weathering ...i cant remember the word but the things that make it do that. Like, iirc there's no water on cybertron, so water-based weathering Just Wouldn't Happen, etc. How do you think that would change the way it looked?

Water is the major driver of erosion on earth, so if you take that out of the equation, you immediately slow things down a lot. Water causes both physical and chemical weathering - for example, feldspars break down to clay. Snow and ice break rocks and grind them down to flour. Liquid water is also good at transporting and sorting eroded material. If Cybertron has no water, it probably has very little in the way of sandstones and mudstones.

(I tend to go with Cybertron having some water in my headcanons, but not nearly as much as earth. Mainly because I fuckin love dramatic erosional landscapes lmao.)

Aeolian (wind) erosion does account for some weathering, it's just not as good at it. Heating and cooling cycles can cause fracturing in rocks, as can simply unburying them - if a rock is formed under certain pressure conditions and then the pressure gets way lower, it's probably going to expand a little. That can cause interestingly geometric jointing. :D Gravity itself also imposes a limit - create a slope too steep for the ground to hold itself together and some of it is just gonna collapse.

In general, all of this is going to be as true for any igneous provinces as anything else on Cybertron. If there's oxygen, there'll be oxidation eventually. At some point I'll look up my silicate weathering notes and think about how Cybertron's shitty pseudotectonics fucks that up lol.

#woulda kept going but i ran out of steam #tfp headcanons #cybertronian geology

9 notes · View notes

foximator-blog · 4 years

Text

Oddly enough, I have some of my own Skylanders headcannons and I'm kinda curious what others think about them.

Skylanders become immortal after truly proving themselves as heroes. No one knows why this happens... it just does. This is why Skylanders, like the swap force for example, are still young despite watching many eruptions of Mount Cloudbreak in their lifetime. Each eruption only happens every one hundred years, yet many of them are still teenagers or young adults (barring a couple of exceptions.)

Elves and Vampires have one thing in common. They age the slowest out of any species in Skylands once reaching their teen or young adult years, soon every 100 years is is the same as one year for them. Something different about them is that Vampires don't age as gracefully at a certain point, and they appear more phantom-like... Adding to the last headcannon about immortality, this is why Night shift looks different from the other vampire Skylanders. Roller Brawl and Batspin were still in their young adult/teen phase when immortality kicked in, and Nightshift was much older when his kicked in.

Chompies and Drow both try their hardest to take credit for creating balloons, but believe it or not Balloons were invented by a Mabu named Tuco. Tuco is one of Flynn's ancestors and this is why he wanted to be a pilot and why he always loves balloons no matter what he upgrades to.

Portal masters have the ability to gaze into other versions of reality in Skylands, but each portal master can only interact with their own. This is why each portal master has their own version/AU/headcannons about Skylands and it's inhabitants. Our Planet Earth just happens to be were these alternate realities parallel or connect with each other.

Believe it or not, Kaos remains evil simply to keep balance... though he is not aware this is the reason and just really wants to rule Skylands.

The Kaos element is actually known as Corruption, and Eon's version is called Core (which is what element we are as a good portal master). These elements are the literal embodiment of good and evil, but since they look similar to Light and Dark, many keep getting them confused.

Hugo's irrational fear of Sheep comes from an extremely intense nightmare given to him by Dream Sheep, but the nightmare was so vivid, leading to Hugo's irrational behavior around the wooly creatures.

Mags is immortal, but not because she's a Skylander. She was an Arkeyan test subject, and after escaping she's just carried on living her life for an extremely long time, without aging a day. She doesn't like talking about it and Eon is the only one who knows about this dark past...

Chompies are both plant and animal, and they have a very strange life cycle. First, a chompy hatches from a pod... a chompy pod sprouts hundreds at a time since despite how viscous they are, they are incredibly weak. If a chompy is lucky it will continue hunting down things and eating, continuing to grow bigger and bigger until it finally buries itself in the ground and grows into a chompy pod itself, starting the cycle over again.

Grave clobber has always been a water elemental, he was just seriously dehydrated during the events of trap team.

All furniture in Skylands is usually built using Magic and enchantments, which is why no one is really upset when Skylanders or villains break them for treasure. The chair or whatever usually reappears just the way it was. Come to think of it, antique furniture made without magic is far more expensive and rare.

I might make more later for specific characters, but this is just to gauge interest. ^^

#skylanders #headcanon

39 notes · View notes

akumaalert · 3 years

Note

When you mentioned collecting dolls, I wanted to collect as much monster high dolls as I could Bit being a poor eastern european teen I could only get them as b.day or christmas gifts and now sadly they are no more. I'm sure I can find some online but I know process will be big. One day I guess, when I start making more money lol.

Do you collect other dolls btw? Cause I see no interest in today's doll market sadly, very few things that are fun or nicely to me

Oh I feel this. So much so that I started rambling, so have my doll history under the cut and my apologies for getting long winded LOL

Other than Disney dolls, I was introduced to Monster High and Ever After High. I got into the game a bit too late to Monster High...most of the dolls that I liked were older and astronomical in prices. I did end up getting a few over time...but they're definitely not the bulk of my collection.

While Monster High was in its peak, Mattel also released Ever After High dolls. I started collecting right when that series dropped, so I have like...95% of any that were ever made. Which is cool and all but takes up ENORMOUS space. I still love doll collecting, but I think it came to me at a really vulnerable point in life when I used it as a crutch. So once I got the help I needed, we were already starting to see that decline in products.

I don't really understand it...when we first saw the dolls without joint mobility in the arms or legs, I was one of the ones who was like "Okay. Makes sense for little kids. These can be the kid model and we still have some for older or adult collectors." But that...never happened? LOL I don't know what Mattel or other companies were thinking.

I do have one or two dolls by Integrity that are lovely. Few Barbies, because what doll collection is complete without her? But, on the whole, I absolutely have to agree with you. The love and care just aren't there anymore. I've seen a few dolls that are interesting (notably the Rainbow High and Extra series of Barbie), but not enough for me to buy. There was a great DC Superhero Girls series...that quickly got dropped too.

I'm not currently collecting since I'm focusing more on downsizing, but I'd have to say the only one that I still follow with any regularity is Disney. Even then, the quality is still declining. I was excited to hear them announce releases for the Sanderson Sisters from "Hocus Pocus"...and then the dolls looked like something you would find in a $5 bin. You'd have to spend around $400 to get all three. There's also the fact that, for Disney, the physical shops are all being closed. On one hand, I very rarely went to the physical stores. Mostly to see how the new releases sold out and for friends' dolls at others. But it's lost that part of the magic too and the details are just...gone.

I'd like to say that there's hope...Monster High has only released like...three doll sets over the past couple of years to my knowledge (IT, The Shining twins, and Beetlejuice), but those are so limited that they're gone in a flash and resold at INSANE prices...worse so than any SDCC or other limited items because they have the details we want but are so hard to obtain. But with the market like it is and with companies kind of half assing the designs? When I do buy again, I'll likely focus on older dolls instead of new. Because the price just doesn't match the product.

Not even to mention the point you made so beautifully - the doll market has quickly become inaccessible to many people due to price increases and scalping. With online releases becoming the norm, it gives more opportunity for scalpers to dominate the scene and the asking price via eBay, etc. It's a viscous, viscous cycle and one I'm not sure is going to be broken any time soon. Which is so unfair to new collectors because if even the veterans struggle to get them...how discouraging is it to someone just finding out about them?

#personal #doll collecting #rambling #i could go on for days #dolls #non re

4 notes · View notes

julieandthefandoms · 4 years

Text

Representation in Media and How It Can Be Harmful (Basically Why It’s Important to Acknowledge the Faults in Media, Specifically When Dealing With Minority Groups)

Note: The following essay is not meant to harm anyone, and if it does, please inform me, so I can edit it immediately. I only want to inform you why people are pointing out these issues in representation, and help you understand why. If you still don’t understand after reading this, feel free to message me, I’ll be happy to help.

I’ve seen a bunch posts criticizing posts pointing out flaws in the representation of POC in TSC and YA in general, and I know none of you probably care about my opinion, but I just want to ask you to be mindful. I’m not going to argue for or against this topic, if you want to know my opinion on the matter, feel free to look under the ‘ash ranting time’ tag. What I am going to do, is address those who are ignoring or refusing to understand where these posters are coming from.

To be clear here, I am not against Cassie Clare as a writer, and love her books as much as the rest of you, but it’s extremely disheartening to see people bash or counteract someone’s claim that her writing has flaws as well. By someone, it usually tends to be a POC, so please keep that in mind for the remaining of this essay. What these posters are generally pointing out are flaws and stereotypes in characters of color, flaws and stereotypes that are extremely harmful, toward the culture the character represents.

Now you might be wondering at this point, how is this representation harmful? First I’d like to preface this by saying use of stereotypes in representation cannot be completely avoided. There will always be stereotypes that are accidental, and those are not the ones I’m speaking of. Flawed and well rounded characters always have the potential to fall into some stereotypes, and that is okay, but there is a moment in writing where the sheer amount of stereotypes on a POC gets difficult to ignore, a point where it cannot be ignored any longer without harming the community as a whole. And how is this harmful? By using many stereotypes in writing, specifically in minority groups, you can unintentionally strengthen prejudices and judgements against and towards entire cultures, all because of a phenomenon called the Availability Heuristic.

Per the American Psychology Association, the definition of the availability heuristic is, “a common strategy for making judgments about likelihood of occurrence in which the individual bases such judgments on the salience of the information held in his or her memory about the particular type of event: The more available and relevant information there is, the more likely the event is judged to be.” In laymen’s terms, this roughly translated to your brain using the information most available to them to make quick judgments, or swapping out the best solution for one that is the most available.

Why is this important for POC rep? By constantly using the same stereotypes to represent a specific group of people, thereby making it more available, authors are further reinforcing that a certain minority is a specific way, leading to strengthening prejudices against them. It is a very dangerous phenomenon and has the possibility to be extremely harmful for the group in question.

(The following scenario is extremely generalized.) Let’s take this scenario into mind. Say there’s an Asian main in a novel and they’re constantly depicted as shy and intelligent. Except let’s make it worse by saying almost all of the Asian representation in media is of shy and intelligent people. Because a ‘shy and intelligent’ Asian is the only representation you get of them, you will, unfortunately, begin to think Asians can only be shy and intelligent, and that there’s no in between. While that may seem extreme, it has already happened before. Think about what you thought when you heard Asian. I bet most of you though of East Asians because that tends to be what is represented when most people say Asia. Now think about how large Asia actually is, and how, by jumping to the nearest stereotype, you immediately excluded the entirety of South Asia, South East Asia, and many many more countries all because of the stereotypes presented in media, essentially alienating entire groups from their continent.

Now that you understand how harmful stereotypes and repeated use of it can be, let’s move on to a separate topic. Admitting someone did something wrong, whether it be in writing a minority or anything else, does not harm anyone in any way. Just because something is problematic does not mean that you can’t still enjoy its content. You can still enjoy the books and understand that some parts are harmful, it doesn’t lessen your joy of the book, only makes them more aware and knowledgeable.

All these people ask is for you to understand that there are issues within your favorite novels, and to accept that. Remember, these can be some of their favorite books too, and they don’t intend to hate on it, only to help spread awareness so it doesn’t happen again. History has the potential of being a viscous cycle if no one learns from the mistakes of themselves and others. So, I only ask you to please keep yourself educated, and listen to when someone tells you something is harmful, especially when that person belongs to that minority group. Thank you for listening.

#ash ranting time #important #the rep of minority in media #and how it affects them #og post

58 notes · View notes

chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 1 - for it is important that awake people be awake

Next chapter >

AO3 (go to AO3 for complete list of tags for this fic)

Masterlist

(TW: violence/graphic imagery, guns, snakes, fear)

(The title for this chapter comes from “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” by William E. Stafford.)

Roman's gut twisted painfully and his eyes snapped open. He sat up. His room was still dark, the heavy curtains blocking out whatever moonlight would have fallen across his bed, but he didn’t need it. He’d lain his clothes and equipment out before going to sleep a few hours earlier. The routine was so ingrained into his mind at this point, light became arbitrary.

Roman’s movements were almost mechanical as he folded back the covers and slipped into his shirt, pants, and armor with long-earned efficiency. The armor was a gift from Logan, who stood as the only person Roman had ever told about his nightly endeavors. It was made of a tough but flexible leather that wasn’t as protective as metal, but far quieter—which Roman found worked to his advantage most nights. Logan, being the obsessive problem-solver he so often was, hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to alleviate the curse. It had been sealed in Roman’s own blood—against his will, of course, but it made no difference. According to the dragon witch, whose brilliant plan it was to have Roman fight a demon for the rest of his life, had told him that he was the only one capable of keeping it at bay.

Yeah, right, he thought sourly as he wrapped a ruby amulet around his bicep. Another “gift” from that blasted dragon witch. Roman had given up pestering her for a remedy for the curse several months ago, finding the long haul up into the mountains far too much work just to be rejected. He couldn’t even kill the stupid thing. It was immortal. He could weaken it, sure, and make things easier for himself for a few weeks, but it always came back.

Sometimes stronger.

What did the dragon witch expect to happen? Eventually, he would die. Whether it was the demon’s doing was yet to be seen, but he definitely wouldn’t outlive it. What then? Would she simply pass the curse on to another? Continue the viscous cycle of torment? Stop complaining, he scolded himself, pressing his lips into a thin line and cinching the leather guard tight about his forearm. It’s been a year. You should be over this by now.

Picking up the pace, Roman holstered his two pistols on either side of his belt, slipped a dagger into a sheath secured around his stomach beneath his shirt, and picked up his sword. He was best with the blade, though he wasn’t foolish enough to go in without back up weaponry. He despised the guns most of all. They were loud and clunky and gave him a headache to use, but more often than not they got him out of perilous situations, so he kept them. The sword was heavy, though Roman was so used to it now, it felt comfortably weighted.

Doing a quick double-check to make sure he had everything he needed, he opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him with a soft click. Roman had grown accustomed to traversing their house in silence, dreading the possibility of Patton or Virgil discovering him sneaking out loaded with weapons. He turned a corner, about to head down the stairs, when he noticed a warm amber glow trailing up the wall. Someone was still up—or they’d left the light on, at least. Was Virgil having trouble sleeping again? Or was Patton indulging in some late-night baking? Both options were likely. Could Roman manage to sneak by without being noticed? Thoughts raced through his head a mile a minute. Something inside him pulled, like someone plucking a bow string drawn dangerously taut. The curse compelled him forward, and he nearly stumbled down the steps as he pulled back. He had no choice; he had to leave. Could he sneak out his room window? It was a long way to the ground and the only tree was by Patton’s bedroom window. He’d risk injuring himself by jumping, which could put his life in jeopardy later. He’d have to try and sneak past whoever was out there. It wasn’t worth having to face the demon with a twisted ankle. Perhaps he could knock them out and convince them it was all a dream? He shook his head. He couldn’t attack any of them. It would eat him up inside.

Slowly, he peeked out over the banister. A short reading lamp sat on an end table beside the couch, barely light enough to keep the shadows in the corners of the room at bay. Bathed in gold light, the figure in the chair turned out to be Logan, hands clasped in his lap and eyes staring vaguely at the wall, deep in thought. Relaxing somewhat, Roman straightened and continued down the stairs as quietly as possible. The third one down was always squeaky. Logan hadn’t noticed him yet, and even as Roman approached, he stared at the wall, chewing on his bottom lip and mouthing silent thoughts to himself. Roman couldn’t help but smile.

“Logan,” he said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Logan jumped, startled. “Wha—oh, it’s you. I was wondering when you’d leave.”

“What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

Logan cocked his head to the side, considering. “The sun sets at nine p.m. and rises at seven-fifteen a.m.. By all accounts, we are less than halfway into the night,” he said, gesturing to the otherwise dark and empty house. He cleared his throat. “I, er, wanted to see you off before you... left.”

“I’ll be back before the sun rises, Lo,” Roman said, waving a dismissive hand and trying to hide the strain in his voice. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you can’t stay up like this every night.”

“I think you’ll find there are many things I can do,” Logan said, his normal sternness hardening into something akin to anger. “One being making sure you arrive back home in one piece. Are you positive I cannot accompany you? I’m sure there are options we haven’t explored yet.”

“Logan, you—“ Roman tripped forward into Logan as the curse tugged at him once again, endlessly insistent. Logan caught him, but Roman quickly righted himself again, struggling to keep the pain from showing on his face. He cleared his throat. “You know I can’t do that. You being there would only distract me and put me in more danger. I’d be too worried about you getting hurt.”

Logan studied his face for a moment before sighing and letting him go. “Very well, but you better come back.”

Roman put on a smile, chuckling. “Of course I will. Have a little faith, Lo.”

“I shall try,” he muttered as Roman opened the front door. He glanced back one last time only to see Logan lower himself back into the arm chair and lose himself in pained thought.

* * * * * * * * * *

The forest was only two blocks away from their house, so Roman didn’t have to walk very far. He’d devised a route through the neighborhood that led him behind houses and between backyard fences to lessen the probability of someone spotting him waltzing around dressed like a walking armory. Most nights, however, were largely uneventful save the occasional barking dog. The sudden noise used to scare Roman.

Now, he had bigger things to be scared of.

The forest dampened every noise as soon as Roman stepped through the tree line. Though he could still see civilization through the trees, he felt a thousand miles from any sort of help were something to happen. The curse wouldn't allow him to leave until the first signs of dawn—he would know, he'd tested it. Many times. The beginning was always the most dangerous part. The demon knew exactly where he was, and at what time he'd be there. The trick would be escaping into the darkness of the woods and losing him along the way. He shook off the nerves breeding in the pit of his stomach, and trudged deeper into the darkness, sword at the ready.

Ah, the darkness. He’d brought a flashlight only once before, and had barely escaped the night with his life. Turns out, a bright beam of light does more to give oneself away than to help locate a possible predator. He never made the mistake again. Since then, he’d become quite familiar with the dark. However, it was less of an old friend and more an impartial entity desiring entertainment regardless of who ended up on the wrong end of it. He took no solace in it, but rather treated it with deference and wary reverence.

Something shifted in the trees above him. Roman froze. Dense fog clung to the ground, curling around his legs like ghosts desperate for living touch. The moon was nothing more than a sliver, denying Roman what little light he usually counted on. The heavy slithering bounced around him, as if it couldn’t decide which direction it came from. Roman pressed his back up against a tree and held his sword in front of him.

“So brave,” a chilling voice hissed. Roman’s stomach dropped. “Have you not bored of this constant battle, yet, little prince?” Roman kept his eyes on the canopies and his mouth shut. He’d never figured out why both the dragon witch and the demon called him a prince, but he’d rather that than his own name. Roman refused to give it that power.

“I tire of this endless game. You drag out the inevitable,” the demon sighed. It sounded vaguely human, though if that human had swallowed shards of glass and gargled with shrapnel. The sound of the beast dragging its enormous body through the branches still eluded Roman, jumping around his head like he wore headphones that kept shorting out.

“Why?” it breathed so close to Roman’s ear, he could feel it. He tensed, swinging his sword around. It sunk into something solid. It took Roman a split second to realize that it wasn't a giant serpentine head, but the tree trunk. He tugged. It didn't budge. Terror swept through him in the same second as a grating laugh echoed around the trees. He abandoned the sword and hadn't so much as taken a step away when a wall of cold, hard scales slammed him back into the tree. He could feel the creature's muscles undulating and constricting beneath the smooth plating, slowly crushing him into the wood. It was dark, yes, but Roman had seen it before on nights with a full moon: a gold scaled beast with a body several times thicker than the trees and a head the size of a small car. Eyes like pools of molten lead the size of Roman's whole face and fangs longer than his arm. He'd only been caught by it a few times in the last year. Each time he'd nearly died. Though, he was ashamed to admit, they didn't usually happen quite this fast.

He'd definitely set a new personal record.

Luckily, he'd managed to pin his arms in front of his chest, so he could somewhat resist the creature's constricting. He took short shallow breaths and pushed outward with all of his strength, but it was a futile effort. The constricting halted, and the monster lowered it's head to meet Roman's eyes.

"Tell me why."

"You think I want to be here?" he spat. "A dragon witch cursed me."

"Dragon witch?"

"Yes, the dragon witch named Ursula. You know, after a whole year of barely five words to me, you're suddenly really chatty," Roman said derisively, hoping to distract the beast from the fact that he was slowly reaching for one of his pistols. Not exactly easy when your arms are being crushed by a gigantic reptile, but progress was being made nonetheless.

"All this time and she still holds onto that ridiculous nickname. You'd think she'd have learned to imprison me with more than a sniveling child," it hissed, baring its enormous fangs. Roman paled, wriggling his arm toward the holster a little faster now. It reared up its head and tightened its hold. Roman cried out, the air slowly forced out of his lungs. He saw stars.

"I am no troublesome pixie that can be held over by a simple curse. She will pay for this insul—"

BANG!

Roman drew and fired the pistol faster than he'd ever before. It hit just below the demon's eye, ricocheting off its scales and off into the night. The snake hissed angrily and released him, retreating in a spiral up the tree and into the canopies once more. It knew better than to stay in close range while the guns were out, regardless of it's tough armor. Roman may not like guns, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use one. So far, the mouth and the eyes were the only weak spots he'd located.

He dropped to the ground, heaving and retching. Roman scrambled to his feet. There was no time for recovery. He tore his sword from the tree and sprinted deeper into the forest. He needed to find shelter or somewhere to hide. While he couldn't see the serpent as well when it was in the trees, it couldn't move nearly as fast. If he managed to lose it, he may just have a chance.

Calm down, Roman. You've been doing this for three hundred and sixty-five nights, and you haven't lost a single one. Don't make tonight any different.

The battle was nowhere near over, and the night had only just begun.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roman fumbled for the key beneath the place mat. It was almost five-thirty in the morning, and though the sun hadn't technically risen yet, his curse had seen fit to release him as soon as the first hints of light played at the horizon. It was still relatively dark, the skyline glowing a pale blue-green against the starry indigo above it. His ribs ached, his knees and elbows were scraped, his clothes and face were streaked with mud, and he was covered in blood up to his elbows. Not his own. Last he checked, his blood was red, not black. It was the demon's, from when he'd driven his sword through the underside of its mouth. He hadn't seen his reflection yet, but he could imagine the horror show that was his appearance. The stuff never really dried, either. It remained sticky like tar and was an absolute nightmare to try and get out of the leather armor Logan made him—not to mention his own hair.

Eventually, his sloppy fingers found the spare key and managed to stick it into the lock. He turned it, replaced it beneath the mat, and pushed the door open. The house smelled of cinnamon and happiness, due in great part to Patton's baking yesterday. The lamp still sat on in the living room, illuminating Logan's sleeping features. His glasses hung askew across his nose and some fancy-pants scientific book lay open on his lap. Roman closed the front door behind him as softly as he could manage, then froze with his foot inches above the floor. Virgil had just mopped last night. If Roman took one step off the front rug, he'd track mud, dirt, and demon blood through the entire house. Cursing under his breath, he leaned forward, reaching for the coat closet. He nearly fell on his face and woke the entire house, but in the end he'd acquired what he'd been looking for: his old jacket. It was worn, fraying, and impossibly comfortable, and would do exactly what Roman needed it to. He could always wash it later, right? Laying it open on the floor, Roman stepped onto it and proceeded to shuffle his way down the hall toward the stairs. True, he could have simply taken off his boots, but they were laced up tight and sticky with blood he didn't have the patience to deal with in the middle of the house. He'd see to it once he got to the bathroom and didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him. He passed by Logan, who had fallen asleep in the arm chair, snoring softly.

It was a long, tenuous journey, but he eventually made it to the base of the stairs. There, he was met with a new problem. How was he supposed to make it upstairs on his jacket?

"Roman?" Logan muttered groggily, squinting at him.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," Roman whispered, waving a hand at him.

"What's all over your—is that blood?"

"Yes, but be quiet!" Roman hissed. "You're going to wake up everyone else!"

Logan stood. "What do you mean yes? Are you hurt?" He reached a curious hand out toward the black goo covering his arms.

"Don't touch it," Roman snapped. His temper was worn thin after the night he'd had, and the last thing he needed right now was a scientific analysis of demon blood. He sighed, "Sorry, Lo. I just... need to get to the bathroom. Could you get some towels or something to lay on the stairs so I can—" he started, but Logan apparently had other ideas. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm under Roman's knees and scooped him up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" Roman demanded, "You're going to get it all over you."

"Irrelevant," Logan said, though his nose crinkled slightly at the stench of death covering his friend. "I shall simply carry you upstairs. It will be faster and more efficient. Don't worry about the jacket, I'll take care of it. Now," he shifted his grip, "are you sure you're not hurt?"

"Yeah," Roman said, though it came out as a strangled gasp. The way Logan was holding him put pressure on a bruise he'd gotten while the overgrown worm had tried smothering him in a swath of mud. Logan cocked an eyebrow and didn't move. Sighing dejectedly, Roman instructed him where he could place his hands to cause him the least amount of pain. After a few moments of readjusting, Logan set off up the stairs. Roman was impressed at how steady Logan was despite carrying his entire weight up the stairs.

"Watch the wall," he grunted, and Roman tucked his feet in to keep from leaving streaks of mud down the hallway. They passed Patton's room, then Virgil's, then arrived at the bathroom. Logan set him down on the tile flooring, promising to fetch him a clean pair of clothes and a bag to place all of the blood spattered articles in. After one last concerned look, he closed the door and left Roman alone in the bathroom.

He grimaced as he glanced at his reflection. Roman looked like he'd been run over by a garbage truck. Blood, dark and glossy as pitch, speckled his face and neck and clumped in his hair. It covered both forearms up to his elbows, as if he'd dipped his arms in black paint. Contrastingly, his own crimson blood had dried across his upper lip and chin from the bloody nose he'd received when flung into a tree. Sickly gray mud clung to the rest of him like plaster. Carefully, he peeled his clothes off and tossed them into a pile near the door. He'd had hopes of the washing machine saving them, but looking at them in a pathetic heap on the floor, he doubted anything could be done. He'd have to burn them later.

Returning his attention to the mirror, his throat constricted. His torso was mottled with a myriad of purple and green bruises, or maybe that was just more mud. They certainly felt like bruises. His eyes trailed down his shoulders, then came to rest on the grimy amulet still tied to his upper arm. He turned it over in his hand, wiping the dirt from its surface.

Think of it as insurance, the dragon witch had written in a nice, instructional letter on how to handle his curse. Insurance that you don't go dying on me too soon. Any injuries you sustain while wearing the amulet will heal as soon as you take it off. You won't even need to sleep, my prince. Easy as that.

Scowling, he undid the clasp and pulled the necklace from his arm. Immediately, burning cold energy coursed through his body. He bowed forward and rested his elbows on the counter, biting his fist to keep from making a sound. It took a considerable amount of self control not to collapse to the floor and itch his gradually healing skin bloody. It felt like a million spiders with needles for legs crawling around inside him.

Some healing magic, Roman thought venomously, breathing hard through his nose. Feels worse than healing normally.

But it was faster. And Roman couldn't risk Patton or Virgil finding out simply because they touched a tender spot. There was a knock at the door.

"Roman? I've got some new clothes and a trash bag, can I come in?"

"Hold on," he choked through gritted teeth. The sound was more like a whimper than Roman would have wished, but there were far more pressing matters for him to deal with than a measly voice crack. An entire year of this, and he still wasn't used to the feeling. How pathetic. He stumbled into the shower and pulled the curtain.

"All right," he said, leaning heavily against the tiled wall. He wasn't going to pass out. He been in worse shape on previous nights. This was nothing. Roman heard Logan open the door slowly, then silence. He heard the faint scrape of him picking up the amulet. Roman had explained its purpose to him the night he'd found out. Mainly because Logan had demanded to know how he wasn't a pile of mush every single night. No one could take a beating like that every twelve hours and still be walking, let alone acting like nothing was going on.

"Are you going to be okay, Roman? Do you require any assistance?" He came closer to the curtain.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Logan." Please don't look, you'll only worry. Don't look.

A pause. "Very well. I will await you downstairs when you are done cleaning up." Another long silence as Roman clenched and unclenched his fist as the healing magic completed its circuit around his body. The feeling eventually faded into a dull prickling. Logan sighed, set the amulet back down on the counter, and left.

Roman let out a breath and cranked the faucet as far to the hot side as it would go. The water was scalding, but he didn't care. The demon blood slowly dissolved from his skin and hair, swirling down the drain in a disgusting black soup of mud and dirt. He wished he could wash it all away, scrub the demon from his pores and the pain from behind his ears.

Clean water streamed down Roman's face in the place of the tears he did not shed.

Thanks for reading!! You can find the rest of this fic on AO3, here.

8 notes · View notes