#a relationship where both organisms benefit

[headspace-hotel]

im reading a lot of research about the mycorrhizal network because this is a HUGE emerging area of research and there is so much new stuff coming out its sooooo neat

So basically "the mycorrhizal network is how trees send each other nutrients and help each other" is wrong,

but the main reason people were mad at it—because they thought everything in the ecosystem is selfish and competitive acting for its own interests—is much wronger.

How come?

Well...fungi aren't just a postal service for trees. They have lives of their own! Plants aren't just controlling the mycorrhizal network to send nutrients where they want, they are communicating with the fungus and negotiating the terms of that relationship.

The genetic basis in plants for forming the mycorrhizal symbiosis is old. REALLY old. Like, "before plants even came onto land" OLD. Other forms of symbiosis, like what legumes have going on with the Rhizobia, are using the same genes to do their thing. There's a LOT of genes involved with creating the symbiosis, including some redundancies just to be safe, and we're only just now starting to understand them.

Why so many genes? What are all these genes for? Everything! Communication chemicals, hormones the other partner will respond to, flipping switches in the other partner's genes. There was a lot of arguing over which partner, the plant or the fungus, was "controlling" the partnership, but this question turned out to be total nonsense. Both symbionts have to recognize each other, respond to each other, prepare for symbiosis by adjusting how their genes are expressed, form the symbiosis, and continuously negotiate the relationship by exchanging chemical signals. Both can actively select the partner that offers the best benefits. There's even experiments where it's been shown that if the fungus turns parasitic, the plant will start secreting fungicidal chemicals. (But also the mutualist fungi in the experiment outcompeted the parasitic one when the pots were seeded with both.)

Mycorrhizal symbiosis is an incredibly intimate relationship. Like, the fungus produces special organs that literally grow inside the plant's cells, and the plant is actively participating in allowing this to happen. The plants and fungi have genes for hormones used by the other species, they have soooooo much stuff encoded in their DNA for interacting with their symbionts, it's like, blurring the lines for whether they're even separate organisms. There are SO many chemicals involved in communication between them and we only understand a few of those chemicals.

This is SO MUCH COOLER than if the plants were just using the fungus as a passive conduit to communicate with and support each other. The fungus is actively participating!

We were fools and assumed there had to be one partner that was "in control," but both plant AND fungus have to initiate and to some extent they're each engaging on their own terms! Or maybe it's better to think of them as one and the same organism?

We're also finding out that there's a lot more types of mycorrhizal symbiosis than we thought (at least five) and a lot more variety in how it works.

And that's not even getting into fungal endosymbionts—fungi that live inside plant cells completely instead of having part of them be outside and in the soil. They aren't considered mycorrhizae because they're fully inside the plant cells and not connected with any soil fungi network but they do a lot of complicated things we don't understand and interact with the plant's other symbionts.

Fungal endosymbionts produce a lot of chemicals that are useful to the plants in some way, and it turns out, that a lot of them kill cancer. Seriously, we've gotten a LOT of anti-cancer drugs from these guys. I think it's because they have to bypass the plant's immune system, but they also fight each other/other little guys that get inside plant cells, so they kind of...are part of the plant's immune system?

And what's MORE

Is that plants and fungus aren't the only things part of this system! There's also bacteria that are symbiotic with the plants and fungi! Even the endosymbiont fungi have bacteria that are endosymbionts inside THEM. Double endosymbiosis.

I think I read one paper saying the bacteria use the fungi to get around? Like that's how Rhizobia find their way to the legume roots in the first place? Have to double check that one

[cognitivejustice]

Restoring Indigenous aquaculture heals both ecosystems and communities in Hawai‘i

For generations, native Hawaiians have understood that their aquaculture systems, fishponds known as loko i‘a, serve as nurseries that seed fish populations in surrounding waters. For the first time, a team of scientists from the Hawaiʻi Institute of Marine Biology (HIMB) have modeled this feat of Indigenous science in a study.

“We are using science to translate ‘ike kupuna, or Indigenous knowledge, into policy,” said study co-author Kawika Winter, an ecologist at HIMB and He‘eia National Estuarine Research Reserve (NERR).

“The value of this paper is that it’s one of the first, if not the first, to really show that there are ways to do aquaculture in ways that benefit the system around it.”

In partnership with He‘eia NERR and Paepae o He‘eia, a nonprofit organization dedicated to stewarding the He‘eia loko i‘a, an ancient Hawaiian fishpond enclosing 36 hectares (88 acres) of brackish water, the team simulated different restoration scenarios in Kāne‘ohe Bay on O‘ahu Island based on a simplified food web. The study found that restoring more of the bay into fully functional loko iʻa would grow fish populations not just within the ponds, but across the bay.

“Aquaculture has a really bad reputation for basically destroying areas around it, but those are commercial approaches to aquaculture that aren’t holistic in their thinking or values-based like Indigenous management,” Winter said. “Rather than ensuring the health of the system, commercial aquaculture is concerned with maximizing profits.”

Winter attributed the success of the loko i’a design to Indigenous thought processes: “Indigenous thinking is operating within the opportunities and constraints of this system and figuring out a way to make things abundant within that context, sometimes even increasing abundance beyond natural levels.

Restoring ecosystems and relationships

Since co-founding Paepae o He‘eia in 2001, study co-author Hi‘ilei Kawelo, a sixth-generation Hawaiian from Kāne‘ohe Bay, has witnessed thousands of volunteers transform the He‘eia loko i‘a.

With the ongoing restoration, Paepae o He‘eia has seen both the aquatic environment and participants’ well-being improve with increased access to traditional foods, strengthening their relationship to place, and fortifying their family and community relationships. “For me and for a lot of our employees, this is one of our outlets, if not our primary outlet for exercising aloha ‘āina [love of the land],” Kawelo said.

“‘Āina is so important, because it is a term for a system that has the nature and its people in an inseparable reciprocal relationship,” Winter said. “The concept is core to this work because it’s about getting back into a way of thinking where there is no separation between the lands, the waters and us.”

While the overarching goal of Paepae o He‘eia and other fishponds is to revitalize Hawai‘i’s extensive Indigenous aquaculture system, Kotubetey said he knows the work may take generations.

[kleopatra45]

Asteroid Pallas (2)

Asteroid Pallas (2) in astrology symbolizes strategic intelligence, problem-solving skills, and wisdom. Its placement in a birth chart indicates how one approaches challenges with foresight and analytical thinking. Pallas represents the ability to devise effective plans, negotiate, and find creative solutions. Understanding Pallas' position provides insights into one's strategic strengths, decision-making style, and leadership potential in various areas of life.

Pallas in the Houses

Pallas in the 1st House: This placement suggests that strategic thinking and problem-solving are integral to your identity and self-expression. You may approach life with a sense of strategy and foresight, and others may see you as someone who is wise and insightful. Pallas in the 2nd House: Values, resources, and personal possessions are important themes in your strategic approach. You may apply your intelligence and problem-solving skills to financial matters or to enhance your sense of security and stability. Pallas in the 3rd House: Communication, learning, and intellectual pursuits are emphasized in your strategic thinking. You may excel in fields that require logical analysis and clear communication. Siblings and neighbors may play a role in your strategic plans. Pallas in the 4th House: Family, home, and emotional security are central to your strategic approach. You may apply your intelligence to create a harmonious home environment or to resolve family conflicts. Real estate and property matters may interest you strategically. Pallas in the 5th House: Creativity, self-expression, and children (if applicable) are emphasized in your strategic endeavors. You may approach creative projects or hobbies with a sense of planning and purpose. Romantic relationships may involve strategic thinking and problem-solving. Pallas in the 6th House: Service, routines, and health are integral to your strategic approach. You may excel in organizing and optimizing daily tasks or in fields related to health and well-being. Your work environment may benefit from your strategic insights. Pallas in the 7th House: Partnerships, relationships, and collaborations are key areas of strategic focus for you. You may excel in negotiating and finding solutions that benefit both parties. Legal matters and contracts may interest you strategically. Pallas in the 8th House: Intimacy, shared resources, and transformation play significant roles in your strategic thinking. You may apply your intelligence to delve into deep psychological insights or to manage shared financial matters effectively. Crisis management may be an area of strength. Pallas in the 9th House: Philosophy, beliefs, and higher learning influence your strategic approach. You may excel in fields related to teaching, law, or philosophy, where strategic thinking and broad perspectives are valued. Travel and cultural exchanges may interest you strategically. Pallas in the 10th House: Career, public image, and achievements are important in how you express strategic qualities. You may apply your intelligence to leadership roles, long-term goals, or projects that enhance your professional reputation. Strategic planning may drive your career success. Pallas in the 11th House: Friendships, groups, and social causes are emphasized in your strategic endeavors. You may excel in organizing collective efforts, advocating for social justice, or leading community initiatives. Networking may be a strategic strength. Pallas in the 12th House: Spirituality, hidden strengths, and unconscious patterns influence your strategic thinking. You may apply your intelligence to explore metaphysical realms, psychoanalysis, or charitable endeavors behind the scenes. Healing and spiritual growth may be strategic goals.

Pallas in the Signs

Aries: Pallas in Aries strategizes with courage, initiative, and independence. You approach challenges with a direct and assertive style, often pioneering new paths and solutions. Taurus: Pallas in Taurus strategizes with patience, persistence, and practicality. You excel in planning for long-term stability and security, applying a methodical approach to achieve tangible results. Gemini: Pallas in Gemini strategizes with versatility, curiosity, and adaptability. You thrive on gathering information, brainstorming ideas, and finding innovative solutions through communication and networking. Cancer: Pallas in Cancer strategizes with empathy, intuition, and nurturing care. You excel in understanding emotional dynamics, nurturing relationships, and creating secure foundations for growth. Leo: Pallas in Leo strategizes with creativity, confidence, and leadership. You approach challenges with a bold and charismatic style, focusing on inspiring others and achieving recognition. Virgo: Pallas in Virgo strategizes with precision, analysis, and practical problem-solving. You excel in detail-oriented planning, organization, and implementing efficient strategies for improvement. Libra: Pallas in Libra strategizes with diplomacy, balance, and fairness. You excel in negotiating agreements, promoting harmony, and finding win-win solutions in partnerships and collaborations. Scorpio: Pallas in Scorpio strategizes with depth, insight, and transformative power. You approach challenges with strategic intensity, delving into hidden truths and leveraging psychological insights. Sagittarius: Pallas in Sagittarius strategizes with optimism, exploration, and philosophical insight. You excel in strategic planning that broadens horizons, promotes growth, and aligns with ethical principles. Capricorn: Pallas in Capricorn strategizes with ambition, discipline, and long-term vision. You excel in strategic planning that emphasizes responsibility, achievement, and building enduring structures. Aquarius: Pallas in Aquarius strategizes with innovation, humanitarianism, and progressive thinking. You excel in strategic planning that fosters social change, embraces diversity, and promotes collective goals. Pisces: Pallas in Pisces strategizes with compassion, imagination, and spiritual insight. You approach challenges with a strategic focus on healing, creativity, and transcending boundaries.

Pallas in Aspects

Conjunctions: A conjunction of Pallas with another planet intensifies the influence of that planet on your strategic thinking and problem-solving abilities. For example, Pallas conjunct Mercury emphasizes strategic thinking in communication and decision-making, while Pallas conjunct Mars highlights strategic actions and assertiveness. Sextiles and Trines: These harmonious aspects indicate ease and support in integrating the energies of Pallas and the other planet involved. For example, Pallas sextile Venus suggests strategic planning that enhances relationships and creative pursuits, while Pallas trine Jupiter indicates strategic growth and expansion through optimism and opportunity. Squares and Oppositions: These challenging aspects can indicate tension or conflict that needs to be addressed in strategic planning and problem-solving. For example, Pallas square Saturn might indicate challenges in implementing long-term strategies or facing limitations, while Pallas opposition Uranus could highlight a need to balance innovative thinking with practical considerations.

©️kleopatra45

[pulisicsgirl]

in my hour of need - mason mount

summary: eight months after the end of their relationship, Y/N and Mason find themselves at the same event—a charity gala—and the night’s events leave them both unsure of where they stand with each other

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 8.4k

warnings/tags: inappropriate joke is made about the reader, angst, self-doubt, exes-to-lovers, hurt/comfort (hee hee hee), ends with fluff of course don’t worry, lots of crying involved along the way

requested: no

based off of this concept from @mountttmase and @saltyheartnightmare

A/N: I’m so excited to finally have a fic ready to post for y’all again!!! I’ve literally been working on this one for the last three months, so it’s definitely a relief to put it out there! This is set during the TFSL gala that Mason attended back at the beginning of March, so some things might be a bit”outdated” by now… I hope yall enjoy!!!

Seeing Mason tonight had been more difficult than you had anticipated.

Eight months had passed since the fairly amicable breakup between the two of you. Things had ended on fairly good terms, but it had been the little things that built up that had led to the end of your relationship. Between Mason’s injury along with the situation at United and new, huge career opportunities that had arisen for you in the last year, the two of you seemed to be in completely different places in your lives. It seemed like you barely saw each other for a few minutes after you woke up in the morning and a few minutes before you fell asleep at night.

In the end, the disconnect was too much, and the two of you agreed to end things before they could get ugly.

You were thankful to have avoided the period of fighting and bickering that you knew would inevitably come with the track that you and Mason were on. Your relationship with him had many fond memories attached to it, and you didn’t want to see those tainted by a messy breakup. But every day that passed, you missed waking up in his bed, being by his side, spending time with him— all of it.

The two of you had tried your best to remain friends, truly. You had texted back and forth a bit, doing your best to keep up with each other’s lives and keep each other updated. You met for coffee about three weeks after the split, but after that your communication had quickly fallen off. You wondered if, like you, Mason had realized that trying to maintain a friendship had grown too painful. If, like you, it was killing him to have you sitting across from him and not be able to hold you, to kiss you, to call you his.

But there was no way for you to know— the two of you hadn’t spoken since.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that he was making an appearance at the charity gala. After all, it was him that had connected you with Together For Short Lives, the organization that Mason had a long-standing relationship with and also the organization benefitting from tonight’s events. Mason’s passion for the charity and its work had sparked something within you, and you had quickly pulled some strings to get your workplace involved with it as well— all of this while you were still together.

So when your boss told you about his contribution to the charity gala and has asked you to be the representative for the business at the auction itself, you knew that seeing Mason would be inevitable.

But it’s been eight months since the split—seven since you last saw him. Surely, you’d be fine by now, you had thought.

Unfortunately, you had thought wrong.

The first glimpse of him in the sleek black suit had sent a sharp pang through your chest, a wave of emotions crashing over you. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and the softness of it immediately made you think of how it felt when you would run your fingers through it, or the scratch of his beard when you would cradle his jaw in your palm. His shoulders seemed to have grown broader, if that was even possible. His eyes looked brighter, and he seemed far more well-rested than you had seen him in the months leading up to your breakup.

And then the terrifying thought had hit you.

Maybe he was better off without you.

Maybe the breakup had been good for him. Maybe you had been the thing draining him in the last months of your relationship.

You felt the tears spring to your eyes as soon as the thought crossed your mind, blinking them away quickly.

But the thought continued to plague you as the night went on. There were a thousand things that were making you feel unsure of yourself and the thought that your relationship with Mason had actually been detrimental to him was just the cherry on top.

This just wasn’t the kind of event you usually found yourself at, even less a setting that you felt comfortable in. You would much prefer a quite night in or the opportunity to fade into the background. When you had been with Mason, you found yourself at a few events like this one, but you always had him at your side. Often you would allow him to navigate the evening for you, so you didn’t even have to think about anything. Tonight, instead of standing next to you so you cold hold tightly onto his arm when you felt unsteady, he was 100 feet away, engaged in conversation with someone else.

To make matters worse, you had asked a friend of yours to help you find and choose a dress for the evening, and she had insisted you would look and feel great in this elegant, low-cut, dark green dress that had an open back. At the time, she had convinced you that the piece complimented your figure and would make you feel confident and sexy. However, it was completely out of your comfort zone, and you regretted your decision to listen to her as you tugged on parts of the dress to try to cover yourself up more throughout the night.

Between the unfamiliar environment, the dress, and Mason’s presence, everything left you feeling quite unsure of yourself.

When you reached your seating assignment, you were relieved to see that you were familiar with a few of the individuals that were sitting at your table—acquaintances that worked for the same company as you who, no doubt, were also sent as representatives for the charity gala. The relief was short-lived, however, when you realized that, directly in front of you, a mere two tables over, Mason’s seat was directly in your line of sight.

You did your best to sink into the shadows, allowing conversation to flow around you without making any contribution, unless someone directly asked you a question. You also tried your hardest not to look over at Mason— this sight of him happily engaging in conversation, seemingly unaffected by your presence, was too much for your heart to handle.

A wave of relief washed over you when someone got up on the stage, removing any pressure to engage in conversation at the table as everyone turned their attention to the announcer. He spoke a bit about Together for Short Lives and the work that they did, soon announcing that it was time for the items to be auctioned off.

Some of the auction items piqued your interest, seeming like items or experiences that you thought you might enjoy. But any sort of intrigue faded when you heard the amounts of money that some of the gala’s patrons were volunteering for them, quickly realizing you were way out of your depth in this room of people.

Before too long, the announcer introduced a “Manchester United Experience,” involving a tour of the team’s facility, accompanied by the team’s star boy himself. Mason approached the stage, walking up the short flight of stairs as applause rang throughout the room. You didn’t hear much of the discussion of the experience as you got caught up in watching Mason and the playful way he interacted with the announcer and the crowd. His silly boyishness sent a pang through your heart, missing the playful way he used to interact with you.

You could’ve sworn his eyes caught yours as they swept the room, and you flashed him a short, forced smile as a sort of sign of goodwill. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you stood, but you wanted to show him that you didn’t harbor any negative feelings toward him, despite the loss of contact.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned his attention back to the announcer who had just asked him a question— one that Mason had to ask him to repeat.

Soon Mason was leaving the stage, having earned an ungodly amount of money for TFSL with his promised tour of Old Trafford.

A sick feeling settled in your gut, knowing it couldn’t be much longer before your company’s contribution was auctioned off. The mere thought of stepping onto that stage sent a rush of fear through your veins.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing to the side of the stage, awaiting your queue to join the announcer on it. Your palms felt sweaty, your heart racing as you tried your best to compose yourself. Applause rang through the room, and you put all of your focus into not tripping as you walked up the stairs.

The room felt ten times bigger from atop the stage, filled with many more people than you had realized were in attendance. You tried to focus on smiling and nodding at the appropriate moments as the announcer explained what your company was auctioning off.

“And of course, we’re very appreciative of Miss… uhm…”

“Y/L/N,” you spoke quietly as the announcer trailed off.

“Yes, we’re very appreciative of Miss Y/L/N being here with us tonight,” the announcer resumed his charismatic personality after it had faltered briefly. “She’s certainly doing her part to raise money for a good cause. I mean, with this much skin on show, that has to be worth a few extra pounds on your bid, right?”

Your stomach sank to your feet as laughter erupted in the large room. You felt the heat in your cheeks, your smile faltering at his words. You suddenly felt ten times more self-conscious of yourself as you stood on the stage, feeling like a zoo animal being laid bare and displayed for everyone’s entertainment.

“With that, we’re going to start the bidding off at…” The announcers voice faded as the room felt like it was closing in on you. Your eyes flicked through the crowd, jumping from face to face until you found the one you were looking for— Mason.

While everyone else seemed to still be composing themselves from the eruption of laughter at the joke the announcer had made at your expense, Mason’s eyes met yours with the saddest expression you though you had ever seen. You could just barely make out his lips mouthing the words it’s okay, you’re okay, before your misty eyes could no longer make out his face.

You composed yourself just long enough for the announcer to finish off the auction, and you offered him a forced smile before you rushed off of the stage.

All you knew was that you needed to be anywhere but this room. You needed to get out, away from all of the people who had just witnessed your very public humiliation.

You made a beeline toward the back of the large hall that everyone was seated in, spotting the double doors that you knew led out to the hallway. Your heels click on the floor as you push through the doors and find the exit out to the decorative garden off of the side of the building being used for the gala. Thinking a bit of fresh air would do you good, you rushed outside, ignoring the chill that rushed through you as the cold air met your skin. Moving quickly away from the building, you ducked behind some hedges in the hope that no one would see you.

Your breathing was heavy as you tried your best to dampen the emotions welling up inside of you. Your throat felt tight as you fought back the tears of embarrassment, frustration, and regret. Forcing yourself to breath slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth, you did your best to wipe gently at the corners of your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t ruin the makeup you had done only a few hours before.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice call from around the corner. Your heart sank as you recognized the gentle tone and the footsteps let you know that he was close. This was surely not the circumstances you had hoped to be in when you spoke to him for the first time in months.

You turned your back just in time for Mason to round the corner and find you hiding away in your little nook. There was nothing you hated more than the idea of letting him see you cry in this moment.

“Y/N, love-“

“I’m fine, Mason.” Your voice came out harsher than you had meant for it to. “Really, I’m okay. Just go back to the auction.”

Undeterred by the way you had spoken, Mason took a couple of steps closer to you. “No, you’re not, Y/N. I know you better than that.”

You couldn’t respond, and you knew he hadn’t missed the small sniffle you had let out as you bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

It was only a moment before you felt his fingers gently take hold of your arm, turning you to face him. Your head was bowed low, still unwilling to let him see your misty eyes.

“C’mere, love,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you in for a tight hug. You couldn’t keep yourself from returning the gesture, your arms wrapped under his as you pressed your palms into his broad back to hold him close. You tucked your face into his neck and suddenly, your heart felt more settled than it had in months.

“He had no right to say anything like that— about you or about anyone,” Mason mumbled into your hair, pressing a barely-there kiss to your temple. “It was completely inappropriate, and you have every right to feel upset. I’m so sorry.”

He brought a hand up to cradle the back of your head, holding you closer to him. You didn’t fight it at all, settling into him more and taking comfort in the proximity.

When he could tell that your breathing had steadied, Mason pulled back, still holding you with one arm as he looked down at you with a soft smile.

“There she is.” He brought his free hand up, brushing his thumb gently under your eyes to wipe away a tear that had fallen. The gesture was so gentle and intimate that you felt like your knees were about to give out, thankful that he still had one arm around you to steady you. “Whatever waterproof makeup you’re using is working because you still look perfect,” he joked, warmth flooding through him at the soft giggle you let out before dropping your forehead onto his chest.

“For the record, your dress is beautiful,” Mason said softly. You knew he must have sensed your discomfort with how much skin you had on show, even before the gala announcer had made any comment about it. “And, in the least creepy, predatory way possible, you look amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wanting to convey your gratitude to him while trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. The one thing you did like about the mostly open back of the dress is that you could feel Mason’s palm flattened directly against your skin as he held you close, his thumb rubbing back and forth in soothing motions. This, combined with the look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place as he looked down at you, made your skin feel like it was on fire, the heat rising up your neck and into your cheeks.

You brought your hands to his chest, holding the lapels of his jacket in your hand before you spoke quietly. “We should go back inside before anyone realizes we’ve gone.” You felt suddenly overwhelmed by the interaction with him, feeling yourself falling back into old habits without even intending to.

Mason unwound his hands from your waist, seeming a bit discouraged by your comment as he merely nodded, holding his arm out for you to take. You did so, holding onto his elbow to keep yourself steady as he led you back inside.

It was quiet between the two of you, neither sure what to say to the other after the intimate moment in the garden. Once back inside you squeezed his elbow gently, saying, “I’m gonna go freshen up really quickly, but I’ll see you back out there,” with a gentle smile. Mason nodded, letting you step away from him and into the bathroom.

In truth, while you did feel a need to freshen up a bit after the tears you had shed outside, you needed a moment to collect yourself— not because of the auction announcer’s comments, but because of Mason.

You stood at the small sink in the ladies’ room, watching yourself in the mirror as you tried to stop the way your head seemed to be spinning. The last time you had seen Mason was seven months ago, engaged in stiff conversation because neither of you knew how to speak to each other after the breakup. But now, he had come to your rescue without a second thought and held you as if the breakup had never even happened.

And it felt right…

You shook your head, telling yourself not to read too much into it— Mason is a caring person and just because he ran to your side when someone had said something hurtful about you doesn’t mean he wants you back. You were self-aware enough to recognize that you had a tendency to let your thoughts run away with you, and you did your best to shut it down before it got out of hand.

At the same time, Mason’s mind was also running wild. His brain felt as if it was under some sort of fog, intoxicated by the feeling of being able to touch your skin again. He was like an addict who had quit, cold turkey, some months ago, and the first taste of your proximity had nearly done him in. He couldn’t stop thinking of how it felt to be so close to you again— to feel your weight against his body, to smell your shampoo that was still the same, to hear your soft voice, muffled by his own neck, your gentle breaths fanning over his skin.

He was worried that maybe he had been too forward— maybe you hadn’t wanted him to run after you. He didn’t want you to think he felt like he needed to rescue you from every poor situation, but after hearing the announcer’s comments and seeing the way it had so clearly upset you (even though everyone else seemed to have overlooked it), he knew he couldn’t just let you be on your own.

He been wary of overwhelming you, but it felt right to pull you into his arms out in the garden. It felt right to hold you close to him and rub gentle, soothing circles into your back with his thumb, the way he’d always done before.

Mason felt unsure of himself. He worried that your hurry to get back inside was to get away from him. He pondered with the idea of going back into the gala so it didn’t seem like he was hovering. But he battled with himself internally, thinking that you may not have wanted to be left to your own devices.

He hated that the months he had spent apart from you had robbed him of his ability to read you. He just wished he could figure out what was going on in your head.

In the bathroom, if you hadn’t had a full face of makeup on, you would’ve taken this opportunity to splash your face with cold water. However, a few deep breaths while you told yourself to get it together would have to do, and you exited the bathroom, planning to find your way back to your table and leave as soon as the event was over. It would be best, you thought, to not engage too much with Mason to avoid getting your hopes up before they were inevitably crushed.

Those plans were cut short the moment you stepped out of the bathroom and into the building’s foyer. There, Mason was waiting for you, and your stomach did a flip at the soft smile that took over his face when he lifted his head and saw you.

A wave of relief that you hadn’t expected washed over you at the sight of him waiting there.

“It sounds like they’ve wrapped up the auction in there.” Mason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward the large hall that you had fled from just a bit ago. You could hear the sound of loud conversation and laughter, signaling that Mason was, indeed correct, and the guests would be starting to exit the hall soon.

Unsure of what you were meant to say, you were thankful when Mason spoke up again. “Look, I’m here, and you’re welcome to stick with me if you’re still feeling a bit overwhelmed, but if you want me to just leave you be, I understa-”

“No, please,” you rushed to cut him off, the thought of having the face the room full of people before you alone sending a feeling of dread down your spine. “I mean… I just… can I just walk with you?” Your voice was small when you spoke again, feeling pathetic for being incapable of facing an event without him by your side.

A warm feeling spread across Mason’s chest at your words, feeling a sense of pride that his presence made you feel even a little bit safer in the unfamiliar environment. Wordlessly, he offered his arm to you again, a reassuring smile on his lips.

As much as you wanted to portray yourself as an independent person who was able to take care of yourself, you had to admit that the rest of the evening felt much easier with Mason at your side. It was so easy to slip back into the same old routine—everyone wanted to talk to the star footballer, and you were happy to stand quietly at his side while he shook hands and unleashed his irresistible charm on each one.

Mason kept you close to him at all times, and the warmth of him settled your nerves tremendously. The gentle placement of his hand on your lower back sent tingles up your spine every time, and it took everything in you not to wrap your arms around his waist, afraid of overstepping.

It wasn’t much longer before Mason was leaning down, mumbling in your ear to ask if you were ready to leave. He knew this wasn’t your scene at all and had been looking for an opportunity to get you out of there since the two of you had stepped back into the gathering hall.

You had to hold back a shiver as his breath fanned over your neck, nodding in response. You let him know you just had to pop over to your table to grab your things and he nodded, following as you led the way.

Once you had retrieved your clutch and bid as quick of a goodbye as you could muster to those that were still lingering at your table, you and Mason turned to leave, heading back toward the set of doors you had entered through. The hall had grown more crowded, and as you weaved between tables, you allowed Mason to grasp your hand, leading the way through the sea of people so you wouldn’t be separated.

As you entered the foyer, Mason tugged you forward gently so that you returned to his side. The two of you exchanged a short smile.

“Is your hotel close by?” you asked, trying to make a bit of small talk as the two of you walked toward the exit.

When the bridge of Mason’s nose went red, a shy but unsure smile on his face, you slapped a hand over your face, realizing the double meaning of your question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you felt the heat in your face as you, no doubt, were turning bright red. “I was just trying to make small talk. Clearly, I’m not good at it.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Mason couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Uh, I’m actually making the drive back to Manchester tonight. We’ve got training tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to get home.” Mason reached the door, holding it open for you. “What about you? Are you nearby?”

“Yeah, actually.” The two of you reached the sidewalk in front of the building, coming to a stop as you turned toward each other. “I’m supposed to be a hotel just a bit that way.” You pointed behind him, toward the accommodations that your job was paying for.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you.

“You know… you’re welcome to tag along back to Manchester with me, if you wanted to. I could use the company to keep me awake.” Mason smiled softly at you, remembering how much you hated staying in hotels.

“Don’t you have Lewis or someone with you? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Mason shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet, “just me.” He was subtly rocking back and forth on his feet, and you could tell he was nervous about your answer.

Getting to go home, rather than sleeping in an uncomfortable hotel bed did sound pretty nice after the turn your night had taken.

Mason watched your eyebrows furrow in thought, an anxious feeing settling in his tummy as he awaited your response.

“You’re sure?”

Mason did his best to conceal the excitement he felt at the idea of getting to spend a couple more hours with you. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he whispered. “Come on, you and I both know you won’t get any sleep in that hotel bed.”

You couldn’t deny that he was right.

It wasn’t long before you were ducking into the passenger seat of Mason’s car, making sure the bottom of your dress was all the way in before Mason closed the door behind you.

The drive started out quiet, neither of you sure how to navigate the situation that you found yourself in. But as soon as you asked Mason about the FA Cup quarterfinal win over Liverpool where he had made his return following injury, his face lit up and things felt like they were almost back to normal.

You did your best to keep the topic of conversation on Mason and his life, not wanting to speak about yourself. Any time he seemed to be coming to the end of one topic, you were sure to ask another question before he had the chance to ask one to you.

Because, truth be told, life had been nothing but dull since the two of you had parted ways. Seeing him tonight was the most interesting thing to happen to you since… well, since the last time you’d seen him.

It was no secret that the transition to Manchester had been difficult for the both of you. There was no doubt it had contributed to the ending of your relationship. Leaving behind your friends, your old flat, and all of the things you had known had been no easy task. Thankfully, you had been able to stay in the same line of work, merely transferring to a new location. But you had struggled to adjust to the new, unfamiliar city, even more so when you didn’t have Mason at your side. Weekend visits back to London to visit your old friends were all that had kept you going in the last months.

As you listened to Mason telling stories of all of the fun things he had gotten up to with the boys on the team that he had grown closer with, the self-doubt creeped back in. He seemed to be doing so much better since the two of you called things off, and again your mind told you that maybe he was better off without you.

Mason noticed the change in your demeanor almost immediately. The car grew quiet, and you sat with your head leaned against the window, watching the lights as they passed. It may have been months since he last saw you, but he could recognize the signs of you overthinking from a mile away, unsure of whether it was about the announcer’s comments from earlier in the night or the fact that you were sitting in a car with him.

Wanting to provide a bit of reassurance, Mason reached over, taking your hand in his, bringing it up to his face, and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. He placed your hand back in your lap, moving to put his back on the steering wheel, but your grip tightened slightly to prevent him from doing so. Your head remained pressed against the glass, but the small gesture brought a smile to Mason’s face as he shifted to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Mason didn’t press you for conversation, allowing you the space to process the events of the night however you needed to. Before long, Mason heard the soft sound of your deep, steady breathing, and a quick glance in your direction revealed that you had drifted off to sleep, your hand relaxed in his. The dull ache that had settled in his chest all night grew a bit sharper as he stole a few glances in your direction, admiring the peaceful expression on your face.

As much as he tried to hide it, as much as he tried to put on a brave face and talk about all of the amazing things that had been going on in his like recently, he couldn’t deny…

He missed you.

He missed having you like this, at his side at the end of a long day. He missed the feeling of ease that washed over him just by knowing you were close by and being able to have that same effect on you. He missed catching up with you at the end of the day, instead of trying to accurately recap the seven months that had passed since he’d last seen you.

He just missed you being in his life and had spent the last eight months trying to find out how to get you back in it.

*

You were jostled awake as you heard the sound of a car door closing. You sat up straight, blinking your eyes a few times as you tried your best to figure out where you were. You recognized the interior of Mason’s car, a flash of confusion running through you before the memories of the night came flooding back in.

The car door at your side opened, Mason appearing at your side as he crouched down, offering you the gentlest of smiles.

“Hey there, love,” he spoke softly, and the kind look in his eyes made your heart flutter. “You fell asleep on the way back, and I realized I don’t know where your new flat is.”

The little flutter of your heart quickly died, the reality of your failed relationship crashing back in after you had been able to put it to the back of your mind for much of the night since Mason had come to your aid.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, reaching for your bag to pull out your phone. “I’ll just order a car, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t be silly, just stay here. I’ve got some extra things you can use, and I’m going into training late tomorrow anyway, so I can drop you at home on my way,” Mason smiled at you, and the way his eyes shone hopefully meant you wouldn’t need much convincing, whispering a soft “okay” in reply.

Mason took your hand, helping you out of the car and leading you inside as you wiped your bleary eyes. He led you to his room, releasing your hand as he wandered through the room, laying out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for you to wear. He wandered to the bathroom for a few moments. When he emerged, you watched with confusion as he collected a few things in his hands and walked toward his door.

“You can sleep in here tonight. I still had some of your skincare products left over from before, so they’re out on the counter,” he smiled at you. “I’ll just be in the guest room, if you need anything.”

His generosity caught you off-guard, and before you could come up with a response, he placed a quick kiss to the top of your head and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

You stood in the middle of the room for a moment, just looking around, taking it all in. You never would have suspected that you’d find yourself here again, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the turn that this night had taken.

Finally snapping yourself out of it, you slipped out of your dress, pulling Mason’s shirt over your head. The scent of his cologne mixed with the laundry detergent he always used brought a wave of emotion crashing over you, and your lower lip wobbled as you walked into the bathroom.

Along with a spare toothbrush that he had set out for you, all of your skincare products were lined up on the counter, and the thought that he had held onto them for you after all this time was what finally caused the tears the spill down your cheeks, the emotions of the night finally catching up with you.

When you crawled into the bed, face washed and feeling fresher after the long night, you allow the tears to flow, pressing your face into Mason’s pillow.

All of it was so overwhelming. Seeing him again after so long. How unsure you had felt of yourself throughout the night. Being humiliated in front of an entire audience. The way Mason had run to your side without a moment’s hesitation. The way it had felt so natural to fall back into conversation with him, to touch him, for him to touch you. Being back in the house that you had once shared with him.

It was all too much.

Not even 30 feet away, Mason was lying on his back in the guest bed, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling. There was no way he was falling asleep any time soon, the thought of you in his bed only a few steps away enough to keep him awake.

After an hour had passed, accompanied by only his racing thoughts, Mason toyed with the idea of sneaking down to his room to see if you were awake. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to you, and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t get to say them soon.

But he thought better of it, guessing that you were probably already asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb you.

However, Mason had guessed wrong. Instead, you were lying on your side, legs tucked up close to your body, staring at the small, framed photo of the two of you on Mason’s side table. It had always been there during your relationship, and the thought that he had kept it in the time since you had split brought such a weight of sadness over you that you felt sick.

Did he miss you the way you missed him? Did he, too, regret not fighting harder for your relationship with every day that passed?

The thought kept you awake until the early hours of the morning.

When Mason awoke the next morning, a heavy exhaustion weighed on him as he had only slept a few hours, tossing and turning the entire time. He crawled out of bed and slipped a shirt over his head, his feet padding softly on the carpeted floor as he moved down the hallway to check on you. He noticed that the door to his room was already open, and when he peeked his head in, you were nowhere to be found.

From the way the blankets were shifted, Mason could tell that you had slept on his side of the bed, and his chest tightened at the thought.

The sound of clinking pots and pans coming from the kitchen caused Mason’s ears to perk up and led him in that direction.

As Mason rounded the corner, he found you, with your back facing him, standing in front of the oven. Your hair, falling across your shoulders, still held some of the curl that you had done for the event the night prior. Mason’s heart clenched at the sight of you in his shirt and a pair of his sweatpants.

A few pans and bowls were scattered across the stovetop and counters, and Mason recognized all of the components of the hearty breakfast you used to make when both of you had the day off. The combination of smells was so specific, and the déjà vu nearly made him dizzy.

You turned around, reaching for a bowl on the counter and jumped slightly when you saw Mason there.

“Sorry,” he breathed, still at a bit of a loss for words. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

You just gave him a small smile and a short “s’okay” as you turned back to the stove. “Sorry if I woke you.” Your voice sounded so small—Mason hated it. He hated the tension that hung in the air between the two of you. He hated the fact that you had nearly become strangers to each other.

In the hours that you had spent, lying awake with your thoughts running wild in Mason’s bed, you had resolved to avoid complicating things further than they already had been. Things were awkward enough between the two of you after Mason had graciously come to the rescue, despite the ending of your relationship, and you were determined to make it home without making it worse.

You owed it to yourself— your feelings for Mason were still there, hidden just beneath the surface. But you refused to put yourself out there and put your heart through that pain again.

You wished you had it in you to be cold with him, completely cutting off any chance of rekindling something between the two of you— any risk of getting your hopes up. But you knew Mason, and you knew that he often wore his heart on his sleeve, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him like that, either.

But despite your resolve and determination, the sorrow-filled gaze in Mason’s eyes had already begun to pierce through the armor that you had put around your heart.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Mason slipped into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the island countertop. His eyes followed you as you finished preparing the last of the breakfast. You dished out two plates— a portion for yourself and another, larger portion for Mason.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know?” Mason spoke softly as you set the plate in front of him.

You shrugged, standing on the opposite side of the island from him as you stared down at your own plate. “It’s the least I could do. It’s your food anyway,” you mumbled, poking at your eggs with a fork, suddenly feeling too sick to eat anything.

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Mason said, earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

Mason couldn’t help but feel discouraged by your stony demeanor. He had hoped that after the night prior, the two of you might be on the right path to sorting things out between you, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He kept stealing quick glances at you as he ate, savoring every delicious bite. But he could tell how uneasy you felt as you stood there, tucking your hair behind your ear as you took small bites from your plate.

The tension was thick as the two of you ate in silence, neither one sure how to even begin the conversation. Did you talk about last night, or leave the topic untouched?

The longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the heavier the weight on your heart grew. As much as you had tried not to get your hopes up, and as many times as you told yourself that your relationship with Mason was well and truly over, a small part of you had still hoped that he would say something this morning— anything, really. That small part of you wanted to believe that this chance encounter was the key—a sign that the two of you needed to find your way back to each other.

But despite it all, the spark that you had hoped was still there seemed to have been snuffed out.

You kept your eyes glued to your plate, afraid that Mason would see them shining with tears and start asking questions. You didn’t want him to think you were pathetic— needing him to rescue you the night before and now here, standing in his kitchen, crying because he didn’t want you back.

You took a breath and steeled yourself to pack up your things from his room and get the fastest Uber back home you could manage.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you scraped the last of your food into the trashcan, no longer able to stomach another bite, and placed the empty dish in the sink. You left the kitchen as quickly as you could, trying to hide your face from Mason as the first tears fell.

Mason was taken by surprise at your sudden rush to leave the room, the noise a stark contrast to the silence that had hung thick in the air. He watched your back as you walked out without so much as a glance in his direction.

His stomach sank. He had hoped, after lying awake all night thinking of you, that you had been cooking breakfast for him as a sort of sign—a signal that you wanted to talk things over again and revisit the topic of him and you. But the unpleasant aura that had remained between the two of you while you ate had gotten you no closer to that conversation.

Maybe he had read too far into things. Maybe the breakfast had just been a ‘thank you’ for driving you back to Manchester last night. Maybe he had pushed too far and inviting you to stay at his was too much, too soon.

Mason pushed his plate away from him, dropping his head into his hands and huffing a sigh as he felt his eyes burn with tears that surprised him. He hadn’t realized just how much the last 24 hours had gotten his hopes up for reigniting a relationship with you until you seemed to have walked away from it altogether.

It was almost like he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

But no, Mason resolved. He refused to let you walk away from him again, not until he had fully expressed to you how deeply he missed you, how much he still cared for you.

With renewed determination, Mason stood from his chair and nearly ran to his bedroom.

Standing outside of his own bedroom door, Mason hesitated for a moment, again overthinking his decision to confront the issue head-on.

But that didn’t last for more than a second before he was tapping his knuckles gently on the door three times.

“You can come in,” he heard your small voice.

When he opened the door, slowly, he found you just returning from the bathroom, several of your own items in hand. As you attempted to collect all of your things, Mason didn’t miss the tear you tried to inconspicuously wipe from your cheek or the soft sniffle you tried to hide with a cough. His heart softened— seeing you cry had always been one of the things he hated most.

“I have an Uber on the way. Should be here any minute. I don’t want to ask you to drive me again,” you spoke hurriedly, as if overcompensating for your fragile state by talking too much. “I can, um, just wash these clothes and drop them off sometime. I really-“

You were cut off when you turned to walk around to the other side of the bed and instead, ran straight into Mason’s chest.

He steadied you with a hand on each of your arms. He held an unreadable expression on his face, and you knew there was no hiding the tear streaks on your cheeks now. However, Mason’s eyes shone with as he looked down at you.

It was silent for several seconds until Mason spoke in a whisper, pleading.

“Don’t go.”

And the silence returned. Your thoughts were spinning a mile a minute. Your mouth dropped open, your brain making its most valiant attempt at forming a response, and yet no words came to you.

Mason took your loss for words as an invitation to continue. “I miss mornings like this. I miss falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up next to you. I miss talking to you at the end of the day,” his lower lip wobbled as he paused to collect himself. “I miss you, Y/N.”

His words pierced right to your heart. Whatever walls you had built to keep him out were nowhere near strong enough and you could already feel them beginning to crumble.

“Letting you walk away was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve spent every day since then wishing I could go back and change it all. I would’ve fought harder for you— for us.” Mason pleaded softly. “Seeing you last night made me realize that none of that has gone away, I still feel the way I did before. Please— please tell me you feel it, too.”

The tears poured freely from your eyes now, and there was no holding them back. You rolled your lips into your mouth, attempting to hold in a sob. Mason’s hands left your arms, coming up to cradle your cheeks as you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. His thumbs swiped at your cheeks, trying to dry your tears.

“I can’t, Mason. W-We can’t,” your voice trembled.

“Why can’t we?” Mason was desperate, resting his forehead against yours. The proximity was making your head spin, the feeling of his breath fanning across your face too familiar, too overwhelming.

“Who’s to say it won’t be the same as the last time?” you cried, finally looking back at him. “I can’t go through that pain, not again.”

“We decide that it’ll be different.” Mason was ready to get on his knees and beg if he had to. “Things will be better this time— I’ll be better.”

He knew that what you had was worth fighting for, and if there was any chance—even a shred of hope—that you would give him another shot, he had to take it.

You looked up into his tear-filled eyes as he whispered, “I just know I can’t lose you, Y/N, not again.”

Like a dam breaking loose, a sob wracked your body at his words. Whatever had been left of the walls you had built up came crashing to the ground. Mason was quick to pull you into his chest, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.

It was like all of the hurt and emotions from the last eight months tore through you at once. Mason, feeling the way your frame was shaking, held you tightly to him, as if he were the only thing holding you together in that moment. He kissed the top of your head, and you could hear him sniffle, knowing that he was crying, too.

As your cries grew softer and you began to calm down, you clutched Mason’s shirt tightly in your fists, afraid that if you released him, he would disappear.

Mason eventually leaned back to look at you and you lifted your head from where it was buried in his chest. There was the softest hint of a smile on his face as he tried to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I-If we do this…” Mason’s tummy flipped at your words, clinging to the sense of hope that they brought. “If we give this another chance, we have to take it slow.”

Mason nodded quickly, his eyes flicking all over your face for any sign of hesitation. “Anything you need, love. Anything at all.”

Your lower lip wobbled as you took him in. “I’ve missed you so much, Masey.”

Mason pressed his lips firmly to your forehead, his heart soaring at the use of his nickname. “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving— never again.”

You leaned forward, pressing your face into his neck and hugged him again, trying to drink if the feeling of being back in his arms. You let him overwhelm your senses— the feeling of his arms around your body, his comforting scent as you breathed him in, the sound of his heartbeat that calmed you so easily.

“I know we’re taking it slow, but I have a couple more hours until training,” Mason spoke softly as you pulled back, looking up at him. A hopeful smile played on his lips. “Will you stick around? Cancel your Uber. I can take you home on my way.”

“Are you sure?” There was still that shred of lingering doubt, the fear of imposing yourself.

“I’m so sure,” he smiled. “I don’t think i’m ready to let go of you just yet.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips before you whispered a soft “okay.”

Never, when you left for the gala the night before, did you think this was where you would find yourself—back at Mason’s house, as he led you to the couch to cuddle while you talked about what your next steps would be. But as you lay in his arms, admiring the soft scattering of freckles across his cheeks, you felt a piece of your heart that had been missing those last few months begin to heal.

And you couldn’t be more thankful that you had your boy back.

As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!!! 🤍

tag list:

@hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[moon1833]

HAIKYUU! BOYFRIEND HEADCANNONS

Karasuno Edition

DAICHI

Classmates to lovers!

Secretly super nervous around you before you started dating.

The entire team knew he liked you before you did.

Hinata and Nishinoya would bordline harass you to come to practices and games.

Which resulted in Daichi yelling at them frequently.

Of course you came to the games though (you find him leading the time as really attractive too).

Ends up asking you out after you come to a match that they won (Suga pressured him).

He’s extremely chivalrous, insists on meeting your parents and opens every door for you.

Doesn’t make any moves on the first date because he doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression. (He really wanted to kiss you though).

You kiss him on the cheek after he drops you off.

Catches him completely by surprise.

You have your first kiss right before a game.

He was nervous, and you came to cheer him on.

You called him over to where you were sitting and kissed him.

“Good luck!” You called out as he was leaving, not missing how red his face was.

Tanaka and Noya were loosing their shit.

As a couple, you’re the team parents.

You always tired to help out with his caption duties, you knew it was stressful for him sometimes.

Leads to the team loving you.

Serious good cop/bad cop relationship.

You get Tanaka, Nishinoya and Hinata out of trouble whenever they do something stupid.

He loves you too much so he lets it slide (he can’t say no to you).

SUGAWARA

Love at first sight! (He fell first)

Brain turned to complete mush the first time he saw you.

Was sure he’d never see you again but he didn’t go up to you.

You ended up being Kageyama’s older sibling.

He still was too scared to make any moves.

You noticed him when Karasuno played Seijoh (season 1).

You approached him to tell him he played well, and told your brother he could learn a lot from him. (He blushed).

Kageyama is oblivious to his upperclassmen’s feelings. (Everyone else picked up on it the moment you started talking to him).

You thought him being on the bench but still making an effort to be the loudest person cheering on his team was really attractive.

You started picking up Kageyama from practices after school (you really just wanted to talk to Suga).

You thought you were being obvious about your feelings but the Kageyama facial expression™ is genetic.

His pining was becoming too much for the team to the point where Tanaka thought you were already dating.

Eventually gets to Kageyama.

He’s a little upset that he was the last person to figure it out (that Hinata beat him to it) but besides that he doesn’t care at all.

He thinks it’ll benefit his volleyball career, too, so it’s a win-win for him.

Flat out tells you Sugawara has feelings for you.

Part of you already knew, but you were elated.

Asked him to walk you home one day when there wasn’t practice.

“So, my brother tells me someone on your team had a little crush on me.” You loved seeing him get flustered.

He’s upset because he was in the middle of organizing the perfect way of confessing to you.

You end up at a cafe a little while later talking.

Tanaka and Noya were not so secretly spying on you both. (They took a picture of you guys with the flash on).

You thought it was funny.

Suga wanted to explode.

He walks you home, and you kiss him gently before walking into your house.

Kageyama was grouchy the whole night. (He’ll come around).

Kept PDA very light whenever you were around people.

However he’s super touchy in private.

Like he needs to be in contact with you to some degree at all times.

Always laying on you during movies and falling asleep half way through them.

Stopped having Suga over so much because whenever you did Kageyama would come into your room to talk about volleyball. (And he doesn’t knock)

ASAHI

Opposites attract!

You took interest in him first (he didn’t think someone as pretty as you wouldn’t be intimidated by him).

(You weren’t).

Started with you asking him for help in class.

You were pretty outgoing and spoke to everyone so he was surprised you went out of your way to talk to him.

He’s a complete mess around you.

You thought it was sweet.

You’re making every move if you want anything to happen (but you knew that).

Nearly died when you showed up to one of his games.

Nearly did again when you were gushing about how incredible he played.

Actually died when you asked if you could wear his jersey to the next game.

Died again when you did, the jersey being much too big for you. Seeing you in his clothes distracted him almost the entire time.

You end up telling him you like him one morning nonchalantly in the hallway when he was walking to class with you.

Wasn’t sure if he imagined it with how quick you said it.

“You do know I like you, right?”

“U-uh what?”

He’s nervous around you for months, barely initiating anything until he’s sure he won’t make you uncomfortable by accident.

Likes to lay on your chest while you braid his hair.

Still blushes from casual PDA. (He’s always pleasantly surprised you want to show off your relationship)

You pick fights with anyone who gossips about him being an intimidating guy.

“It’s not him you have to worry about, it’s me. So why don’t you say that to my face.”

He’s desperately trying to defuse the situation, but he loves how you defend him.

NISHINOYA

Childhood friends to lovers!

You’ve known him your whole life, but moved away for a few years in middle school.

You moved back in your second year of high school, reuniting with Noya.

He was different, but exactly the same.

You were adamant to not catch feelings, but you couldn’t help it.

The moment you were in his life again, he stopped obsessing over other girls. He didn’t realize it right away, but he knew he didn’t want you to think he didn’t prioritize you.

Forced you to come to every practice so he could walk you home.

Lines of friendship and something more kept getting blurred.

Randomly grabbing your hand when he’s excited.

Possessive, he gets sad if you don’t pay attention to him for a long time.

Genuinely fights off other guys.

He still doesn’t realize he likes you until Tanaka points it out.

Immediately confesses to you.

Dating him wasn’t much different than being his best friend, only now you were more affectionate.

Constantly napping together.

Brags about you to everyone.

Carries a photo book of you because he couldn’t decide on one picture for his wallet.

TANAKA

Matchmaker gone wrong!

Originally was attempting to set him up with Kiyoko (your best friend), but she wasn’t interested.

You two started getting closer even after you told him you didn’t think their plan was going to work.

Was starting to feel like he was only befriending you to get closer to Kiyoko, but he made a lot of effort to hang out with you.

Realized he was catching feelings for you when he would start to look for you in the crowd after each point he scored.

Did a 180 and went to Kiyoko for advice.

You were a little worried when they started getting closer, but your best friend insisted she had no romantic feelings for him.

Ends up confessing to you after a game. (Kiyoko’s idea).

He kinda screams it at you.

You thought it was cute, you kissed him to shut him up.

Parades you around to the team.

He’s protective, but when guys tell him he did a good job scoring you, he’ll just rant about how lucky he is.

He’s obsessed.

Like, genuinely obsessed with you. He proposed at your graduation. You told him ask you again in five years.

He does.

You say yes.

KAGEYAMA

Enemies to friends to lovers!

You both played volleyball in middle school, and you won “Player of the year” over him.

Rivalry started from there.

The girls team practiced in the same gym as the boys did so you were always trying to outdo each other.

When you’d play each other for practice matches you both would play exceptionally dirty.

Ended up at Karasuno because you got injured.

Became a manager for the boys team since the girls team wasn’t as serious and didn’t have a manager.

Had a small fight on both of your first days because he refused to work as a team.

You two could not get along so for the sake of keeping your job as a manager you just ignored him usually.

One game, a few members of the other team had made a few comments about you.

Conveniently, one of Kageyama’s serves in warmups nailed the guy in the face.

Was the first time he made you laugh.

Thought about it for a week.

Tried to make amends with you by showing he was sorry (he couldn’t say it).

Would ask you for tips on how to connect with his team as well as his form.

Admitted he thought you were a better player than him one night, you told him you most likely wouldn’t be able to play again.

Asked him to play for you, placing your hand on top of his.

He almost kissed you that night but he didn’t know how to and panicked.

You wanted him to.

Ended up tutoring him and Hinata, he started going to you for individual help.

Was worried you’d think he’s stupid.

You thought his focused face was adorable.

You were obviously in your feelings for him, but he was adamant that you wouldn’t like someone who struggles showing his emotions so much.

He didn’t think he’d be good enough for you and that you deserved better.

However, the idea of you with anyone else made him so unbearably mad he started putting effort into becoming what you need.

He struggled, but all you cared about was the effort.

Extremely flustered whenever you showed any kind of appreciation towards him.

Like he completely freezes up if you even hug him.

He warms up to physical affection quickly, he loved it from you, he just didn’t know how to return it.

Always falling asleep on top of you on bus rides.

He snores. Not loudly they’re more like sleeping sounds, but you tell him he snores.

Clingy in private.

Loves holding you but loves being held just as much. (He’ll never admit that, though).

YAMAGUCHI

Best friend’s sibling/secret relationship!

Yamaguchi had a crush on you the second he saw you for the first time when he was over at Tsukishima’s house.

He was sleeping over for the first time, and you were heading to the kitchen for a 1am snack while he was leaving the bathroom.

He knew Tsukishima had a sibling, but he had no idea what you looked like. He had no idea you were that beautiful.

You invited him to the kitchen with you for some food, he obliged because he wanted to talk to you.

You knew he was quiet so you did most of the talking, asking him questions.

“Your freckles are really cute, I wish I had freckles.”

No one had told him that before.

He remembered that for months.

Tsukishima knew something was up right away, but he didn’t say anything to Yamaguchi.

He was more worried about you, so he told you to “leave his friends alone”.

You didn’t

You saw Yamaguchi in school occasionally, always going out of your way to say hi (when Tsukishima wasn’t there).

After beating Shiratorizawa, you texted him congratulations.

You both kept texting from there, then calling.

You started asking him for help with homework, claiming your brother was unhelpful (you knew the work).

You started meeting up at the library, both of you mutually deciding not to tell Tsukishima.

After a few weeks of longing stares and lingering touches, you caved.

He was explaining a math problem to you, you were practically shoulder to shoulder, and he looked so adorable trying to dumb down the equation.

You weren’t thinking, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

You pulled back, apologizing, but Yamaguchi had a shy smile on his face.

“Can you do that again?”

Kept it a secret, only meeting at his house. (His mother understood)

Tsukishima found out after walking in on you both making out while Yamaguchi was sleeping over.

“Do you want ice cream?”

He did not care.

Only told you to stay away from his friends because he didn’t think you liked Yamaguchi.

He trusted you both to be respectful and if things did end to keep it civil.

His only wish was he did not want to hear a thing about you from Yamaguchi.

He loves to cuddle with you.

He’ll initiate a lot more physical affection when you’re by yourselves, but in public he gets too nervous.

Doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable ever.

Also not huge on PDA.

Loves giving you forehead kisses.

Akiteru saw Yamaguchi with a hickey before he knew you were dating and congratulated him.

Akiteru did not know you were dating for months.

That wasn’t intentionally, everyone just forgot to tell him.

Tsukishima gave a legendary best man speech at your wedding.

TSUKISHIMA

Enemies to lovers!

The first day you met Tsukishima, you thought he was annoying and needed to be put in his place.

So, you did.

Any insult he said (whether it was directed at you or not) was retorted by you in seconds.

He didn’t expect that from you (it intoxicated him).

Being friends with Yamaguchi, you were almost always around.

He called you a pest.

You called him a loser.

And so on.

LOTS of tension.

Both of you always glaring (staring) at each other to the point all your friends think you’re together in some shape, way or form.

Both of you could not get the other out of each other’s head.

Both of you think it’s because the other is just so annoying.

Until Tsukishima has a dream about kissing you.

Now that’s all he can think about.

He starts ignoring you because he’s mad at his own feelings and he’s starting to feel like he has no self control around you.

You notice it immediately, he no longer picked on you or teased you at all.

Instead of being relieved like you thought you should be, you’re rather sad.

About a week goes by, and eventually your mutual friends are sick of all the sulking you’re both doing.

Force you to talk to each other.

Ends up in a shouting match.

You call him a coward, and it strikes something in him.

Mid rant, he cuts you off by kissing you.

You kiss him back, finish your argument and go back to kissing him.

“Go out with me?” He mumbles against your lips.

“How chivalrous of you.”

The arguing doesn’t stop now that you’re together, it just leads to other things.

Surprisingly, Tsukishima is extremely emotionally mature when it comes to you.

He doesn’t want to loose you.

You’re his soft spot.

Like it’s so obvious and he almost wants everyone to know it. (He’d never admit it)

Not very possessive unless you’re uncomfortable.

No one was surprised when you got together.

Neither of you are huge on PDA.

Maximum affection you’ll show in public is hand holding.

He uses you as a human armrest occasionally.

“Hates” when you steal his clothes (he leaves them out for you.

You get along well with Akiteru, he loves you.

He’s out like a light if you play with his hair.

Holds you like a stuffed animal to sleep (he can’t sleep any other way).

Surprisingly soft.

Doesn’t say “I love you” for a while, but he does things to show it before he does.

HINATA

Sunshine x sunshine protector!

You grew up as Hinata’s #1 fan.

Helped him with his volleyball skills in middle school and so on.

You were always be his side and it was the same with him.

You’ll tease him of course, but anyone who underestimated him or was insulting him had to deal with you.

Tanaka and Noya call you “Hinata’s girlfriend” (they just think that and no one corrected them).

Started dating by accident.

Hanging out as friends was turning into something else.

Constant hand holding as well as hugs.

Were each other’s first kiss because he “wanted to know what it felt like”.

Kept kissing after that.

Eventually he just starts introducing you as his girlfriend.

“Shoyo, you just told them I’m your girlfriend.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend.”

“Oh my god I forgot.”

Chaos everywhere you go.

He’s your best friend and your boyfriend.

He’s always getting you things.

Invites you to every game (you were going either way).

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: bone-eating worm

Happy (almost) Halloween from us at Wet Beast Wednesday. What better to celebrate the spooky holiday than with a spooky animal? These critters are so spooky they even scare skeletons. Sometimes called zombie worms or bone worms, bone-eating worms are scavengers that play an important role in deep seas. Try not to get too scared.

(Image: a cluster of bone-eating worms on a bone. Their plumes are visible, looking like red feathery structures emerging from a clump of brown sludge. End ID)

Bone-eating worms are members of the genus Osedax, with 26 species currently known. My favorite is Osedax mucofloris, which means "bone-eating snot flower". They are small tube worms, reaching between 2.5 and 7 cm (1 to 2.7 in) in length. The body is divided into three segments, the trunk, ovisac, and root. The trunk makes up the majority of the body and it topped by red plumes that act as gills. At the base of the trunk is the ovisac, where eggs are produced. Below that are the roots that bore through the bones the worms live on. This is done by secreting carbonic acid that is produced through anaerobic respiration. The roots also produce a mucus sheath whose purpose is not fully known. It may protect the body from the acid or may prevent the acid from dissolving the hole the worm lives in. As with other tubeworms, the worm generated a protective sheathe to live in. Normally, the plumes extend out of the sheathe to respirate, but when threatened, they will withdraw into the tube.

(Image: a bone worm removed from the bone. It is a long, translucent tube with reddish plumes on one and a lump of wavy roots on the other. End ID)

Bone-eating worms lack a mouth, anus, and digestive system. To obtain nutrients, they exist in a symbiotic relationship with bacteria. As the worms break down the bone, they release lipids and proteins that the bacteria consume to produce energy in the form of glycogen, which is transferred to the worm. The worm then uses the glycogen to power itself and feeds it to the bacteria to keep them alive. The worms also use collagen, which is the primary component of bone. Many of the symbiotic bacteria species need the collagen, which the worm provides by breaking down the bone. Curiously, many of the symbionts produce toxins that disrupt the membranes at the roots, leading to infection. The bacteria are also found surviving outside of symbiosis with the worms Because of this, it is debatable whether the relationship between the worm and its bacteria is mutualistic (both parties benefit) or commensal (one party benefits, the other neither benefits nor suffers).

(Image: a cleared view of bone worm plumes emerging from a bone. End ID)

Bone-eating worms are found worldwide in oceanic depths ranging from 10 to 4,200 meters (30 to 14,000 ft). They are most commonly found on the skeletons of whales, but will also colonize fish bones and even, in one experiment, cow bones. Whale bones seem to be preferred both because of their large size and the large quantity of lipids found within. Whale skeletons can often be seen covered with bone worms, giving them the appearance of red shag carpeting. As the worms break down bones, other animals can take better advantage of the nutrients within. The presence of bone worms at a whale fall has been shown to increase the biodiversity of the site. Bone-eating worms are ecosystem engineers, organisms that significantly alter their habitat. They have been doing this since before whales existed. Fossil sea turtle and plesiosaur bones have been found with signs of bone worm colonization.

(Image: a lone bone worm with its tube visible. Its plumes are whitish. End ID)

The bone-eating worms have one of the most dramatic cases of sexual dimorphism in the animal kingdom. All the worms you see when you look at a whale skeleton are females. The males are 20,000 times smaller and fully microscopic. They still resemble larvae, making them a case of neoteny, an adaptation where juvenile characteristics are retained into adulthood. Harems of males live inside the females' tubes and feed on the nutrients released by the bacteria. As the female generates eggs, the males fertilize them. The eggs hatch inside the female's tube and stay for a while to mature before being released into the water. The fact that the worms are so widely distributed indicated that the larvae can travel vast distances to find a new set of bones, but the means they use to do so is unclear. The extreme sexual dimorphism reduces competition between males and females and ensures the males will always have an available mate to pass on their genes. The species Osedax pirapus do not follow this form of dimorphism. Males are still smaller than females, but they actually look like worms and share the same lifestyle. This increases competition between males and females, but ensures that males can make far more sperm due to their greater size.

(Image: a collection of images of multiple species of bone-eating worms. Source. End ID)

[raileurta]

Symbiosis

Imagine a universe where humans and Cybertronians are from the same planet; where it's a combination of earth and cybertron just extra big. On this planet organic and inorganic life coexist rather peacefully. A lot of them actually rely on each other. For transformers until they have a human partner they are unable to be a full combat efficiency and they can't really groom themselves. Humans being on a rather large hard to traverse planet with a lot of dangerous creatures is hard for them to protect themselves and travel far distances. There are emotional benefits of course as they are both fairly sociable species who likes having companions.

So every few weeks or so transformers and humans will get together to talk and exchange services. No matter if the Cybertronian is an autobot or a decepticon. During these events bots will try to get a human buddy; with bribes, friendships, anything of the sort.

Humans are quite valuable to the inorganic species considering their ever lasting centuries-long war. So all bots are pretty protective over their human charges. This has led to many problems of bots becoming too controlling and or overly possessive. Which causes humans to be more reluctant to bond with a transformer causing these relationships to be more rare that causes bots to be more possessive over their human(s). It's a nasty cycle that keeps feeding into itself that is definitely going to lead problems down the road but for now things are relatively peaceful.

[fairytsuk1]

get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

-

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.

[bogleech]

In theory, would an Endoparasite, given enough time co-evolving with its host, become an organelle or organ in time? Would that just transform it into a symbyote by definition instead? I ask this cause I've heard that's how eukaryote cells evolved (kinda, it's more like the smaller cells they absorbed did not get consumed instead)

Well, fun fact the word "symbiote" includes parasites anyway! It's a misconception that symbiote is the word for "the beneficial version." Symbiotes are any animals at all that depend on a deep relationship with another species, whether it means they help them out or they suck their blood all day and give them diseases! The helpful kind are just called "mutualistic symbiotes" and the detrimental kind are "parasitic symbiotes," but countless organisms blur those definitions in so many confusing ways that it's impossible to draw a line. For instance, we now know that many parasitic worms sequester so many toxic metals it must have always been of some benefit to their hosts, even before we started dumping more toxic metals into the food chain and have them working overtime these days:

That already feels a lot like the function of an organ! Kind of like how our bacterial biomes have been classified as "organs" too. But I know what you mean; a parasite becoming basically a permanent, attached part of what was once a host animal, passed directly to the host's offspring, just like a bigger version of where mitochondria came from. We don't know that that's happened just yet, but there are parasitic worms that start colonizing animals as soon as they're developing in the womb, and nearly all wild animal populations have a 100% constant presence of parasites their entire lives. So I think it's highly possible, really. Say a particular tapeworm mutated to where it's so good at that toxin absorption, it makes the host significantly healthier and stronger than its competitors? Then both creatures become that much more likely to pass on their genes together. Over many generations of this, if it proved beneficial enough, you could have a parasite that's barely recognizable as a tapeworm anymore, a sac of tissue that passes its larvae directly to the host's offspring, and the host's body could have even adapted designated places for these former parasites. They could totally look just like another natural organ until they were put under a microscope.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

I've seen a lot of people comparing Huskerdust to a healthy version of Stolitz and it's kinda got me thinking... Staticmoth as the evil fucked up version of Fizzmodeus.

THINK ABOUT IT!!!!! The parallels between Val and Ozzie are obvious. Like that man wants to be Ozzie so bad it's insane, from the way he dresses to the way he decorates to straight up OWNING A ROBO FIZZ, Val clearly wishes he was the embodiment of Lust. But are there parallels between Vox and Fizz? Actually, surprisingly yeah. They're both showmen, like aggressively so. They're very public figures, with their face all over every product in Hell(albeit Vox is doing it a lot more purposefully then Fizz). Fizz's antagonism towards Blitzø is actually pretty reminiscent of Vox's towards Alastor(except Fizz and Blitzø have a lot more baggage lmao), and they even share some aesthetic similarities! Specifically the colors of Fizz's robotic limbs matching Vox's overall color scheme. Which speaking of robots, that's probably their biggest similarity overall: they're both partially made of technology. I hesitate to say cyborg because Idk how much that applies to Vox, since object heads aren't typically classified as cyborgs as far as I know, and we don't actually know how much of Vox is organic(also cyborg is just one of those words I have an inexplicable dislike of Idk-), but like. Think cyborg I guess. Like Vox is a LOT more of a dick and probably doesn't have a very tragic backstory? Maybe? Unclear. But the similarities are undeniable.

Okay, now that individual parallels are out of the way, how could their relationship to eachother parallel Fizzmodeus? Starting with baseline aesthetics: they got the height difference. It's not as dramatic as Fizz and Ozzie's but TO BE FAIR, Huskerdust are the same way(their height difference is obvious, but not as massive as Blitzø and Stolas'). Staticmoth is also very buisness-partners-with-benefits and some hints at deeper feelings, which is how we were introduced to Fizzmodeus. I don't think Val and Vox feel the need to hide their romantic feelings? But tbh it could go either way we haven't seen much of their dynamic yet. That's kinda where the similarities I could spot find because see previous sentence, so let's move onto the differences!

I think a good way to breakdown what makes Staticmoth toxic Fizzmodeus is actually by bringing Alastor and Blitzø back in to compare and contrast how Val handles Vox's rivalry with how Ozzie handles Fizz's. In Radio Killed the Video Star, the only reason Val tells Vox that Alastor is at the hotel is to piss him off. He clearly enjoys Vox's reaction, and keeps egging him on. Teasing him about it. Which like, friendly teasing between partners is well and good, but Val is clearly just doing it cause he wants to see a fight and doesn't care about how distressed Vox is about this. Vox goes off on his own and sings a fuckin banger, gets publically humiliated, causes a massive blackout. Val doesn't really do shit to help him out, just kinda sits there and. Idk watches? Unclear what the other Vees are actually doing because most of Stayed Gone takes place in funny TV land where Vox is capable of bending reality to his whim for the sake of visual interest. But what Val is actively doing during the musical number isn't important so who cares. What's important is that he egged Vox on, convinced him that confronting Alastor right then was a good idea, and then just sat back as Vox got so pissed off he had a meltdown. Which I SWEAR I'm not trying to dramatize this scene it just sounds really fucking bad when you write it all down from this perspective. I think it's also worth noting that all of this is DIRECTLY AFTER Vox did the exact opposite for Val, calming him down so he doesn't make a fool of himself in public.

Meanwhile compare that to how Ozzie handles Fizz and Blitzø's relationship. During House of Asmodeus, once Fizz realizes Blitzø is there, he starts publically roasting him about how shitty his love life is. Ozzie encourages him, and even gives him a little congratualtions in the background when Verosika joins in for changing the subject, but the difference here is that House of Asmodeus takes place in a much more controlled environment, so it's less likely either of them will have to face consequences for being assholes. There's also how Ozzie's encouragement is just a lot more genuine. Like "yeah babe, go insult that guy who traumatized and abandoned you whoo!" rather then "hey hey look there's that guy you hate. You should go fight with him lmao show him who's boss." Then there's the ending. At the end of both Stayed Gone and House of Asmodeus, Vox and Fizz eat shit and die. Don't worry they're both fine like immediately after, but while in House of Asmodeus Ozzie immediately rushes over to Fizz to make sure okay, we uh. Do not see Vox interact with anybody but Alastor in the direct aftermath of his eating shit and dying, which is fair because he's in his weird little gamer cave. Then we skip straight to the Vees having a meeting to decide what they're gonna do about Alastor, and we don't really know what any of them were doing in the interim between the end of Stayed Gone and the meeting, so uh this part of the comparison kinda falls flat. But again something worth noting is that Val just straight up. Does not care about Alastor during the meeting scene. He's sitting there bedazzling his fucking gun BY HAND with school glue and rhinestones, not even paying attention to the meeting, despite being the one to get Vox all riled up about Alastor IN THE FIRST PLACE.

In short: Val encourages Vox to fight Alastor without thinking it through, doesn't bother to help out during the actual fight, and then immediately stops caring the moment the fights over. Meanwhile Ozzie, while encouraging Fizz to pick on Blitzø, backs him up the whole time, and while still supportive of his boyfriend, doesn't actively encourage Fizz to do things that would get him hurt. Ozzie also supports Fizz by refusing to let Blitzø have an Asmodean crystal because he knows Fizz wouldn't like it! Which is the exact opposite of pissing your partner off on purpose so you can watch a fight!!! And if that isn't enough evidence for you, then uh. I guess you could compare how Val treats... just everybody around him, really, with how Ozzie does(but that's more individual character analysis than relationship analysis). Or you could talk about how fed up with Val's shit Vox clearly is in comparison to the mutual support of Fizzmodeus. Or how. Val throws a glass at Vox. And breaks his phone. And then Vox has to scream in his face to get him to listen-

Idk how to end this so uh. DEMON ATTACK RAH!!! 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

[zoozvie]

Engagement?

♡ Levi/gn.Reader ♡ ao3 link ♡

You cheerfully hummed as you walked around your apartment, keeping busy with cleaning up and organizing the kitchen. It was a pretty lazy day for you two, accomplishing mundane chores that weren’t very important.

“Are you ever going to stop singing that creepy song?” Levi’s flat voice sounded from his chair in the sitting room. He had a book in his lap, but instead, he’d been watching you for the last few minutes with his perfect view into the kitchen.

“It may be weird, but it’s catchy.” You shifted to your other foot, flowing to non-existent music.

“You’re weird.”

Without looking at him, you waved him off, “Whatever.”

More humming filled the air. Harpy hare, where have you buried all your children? You looked over your shoulder discreetly at your boyfriend. Tell me so, I say. 

Your hands wrung a dish towel over and over between them, awkwardly leaning your hip against the cabinets. “So what did we say we’d do regarding marriage?”

Levi paused before he could take a sip of his tea. “Why are you thinking about that?”

“Nothing, no reason. I just wanted to remember what the plan was.”

Levi sighed, sitting back against his seat and placing his tea and book aside. “Well, we both said we’d sign the papers if it made sense legally and financially. And then later on, when we felt secure and ready, we could get ‘emotionally’ married and have a ceremony with a few friends.” His attention was trained on your face, which was purposely facing elsewhere. “Is that right?”

Your head bobbed in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. So we’re just kind of waiting, right?” At his furrowed brows, you continued, “We established from the beginning that we weren’t really into casual dating and wasting our time. Both of us want life partners and to take things seriously.” He nodded. “So we’re just kind of waiting for the benefits to outweigh the potential drawbacks to actually get married, legally and everything…”

“Do you not want that?”

“No, well, I do. It’s just…” you sighed, setting down the towel. Your behavior strongly showcased your anxiety, and Levi reflexively reached out his hand to you, gathering your attention with a small ‘Come here.’

His calm energy pulled you in without a choice. Your hand slid into his, standing before his chair as his thumb stroked your knuckles.

“I guess we won’t have those exciting proposals where it’s a big surprise.” Levi tilts his head to the side curiously when your eyes only look at your hands. 

“Do you want to be surprised with a proposal?”

“No! I mean, the culture around someone begging for their partner to propose and then being disappointed when it isn’t how they wanted or when they wanted it is terrible and unfair to have that job be put on one person in a relationship. It is better when it’s collaborated and communicated.” Your lips pout a bit when you finally look up at him. “Also, I don’t expect you to propose. I could propose to you.”

“I know, dear,” he blew air through his nose in amusement, “We’re equally responsible for each other.”

“Exactly.” Embarrassment fills you once again as you lay it out for him. “But I guess there are appealing parts of a traditional relationship. At least the surprise and excitement of it all. And since we decided from the beginning that we’re in it for the long run, engagement isn’t really anything new or different that needs to be…” 

Levi gently cuts you off: “You can still care about getting engaged. It’s still a title we can decide has importance—as long as, you know, we are the ones who decide that it matters.” His other hand smooths up your arm to pull your shoulder towards him. Always so gentle and kind with you. You end up arranging to sit on the meat of his thigh, on his good leg. He never voiced any bother regarding your proximity.

You bend down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “I think I’m just tired of calling you my ‘boyfriend’ all the time.” Your voice muffles a bit in his shoulder. “We’re getting old, I feel so juvenile talking like that.”

His smile is beautiful when you lean back to look at him. “Yeah? Look at me; I use a cane. How do you think I feel when everyone assumes my partner is half my age?” You chuckle in amusement along with him. Thankful that he’s gotten over, or gotten better at joking about his physical disabilities and appearance.

“Just call me your fiancé.” He shrugged as if it was the most easy thing in the world.

“I can’t just—Levi, people will ask questions—”

“So what? What do they know about our relationship anyway?” He frowned. Still as cute as ever. “Tell them we’re saving up because I only want to get married once, so it should be a nice gathering ‘cause I know you want that.” Your fingers interlaced with his. “So we don’t know when to have our wedding, but people can be engaged for years without knowing that.”

You hum, “My coworker has been engaged for seven years, has been since she had a kid, but doesn’t have a date for a wedding because, yeah, they want to have proper funds for their house and her daughter’s needs.”

“Right, there’s nothing wrong with that. And I’m sure you’ll get all that surprising proposal excitement from everybody when you start calling me your fiancé.” He paused to study your face closer. “I’ll get you a ring, so don’t worry about that.” 

You pull back, “What? No, you have to do that. It’s the whole point of saving money.”

“I never said it would be expensive. You know I don’t care about that, and I’m glad you value sentimental shit more than money.” You scoff, ‘duh,’ but you are smiling on the inside at his thoughtfulness.

He pulls you back closer to his chest, although with you on his lap, his face rests in the crook of your neck. Like he immediately needed to fix the wrong of separation you created. “Our anniversary is next month. That’ll give us enough time to get whatever symbol of engagement we want,” his injured hand on your back carded through your hair. “Whatever you want.”

Your smile couldn’t help but show with his words. You pressed your face into his hair, trying to get impossibly closer. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Both of you slumped together, backs bound to ache after slouching for so long. But this space was yours, this time was yours, this home was yours. Partners in every way.

You were his, and Levi was yours.

dividers by saradika-graphics

Self indulgent because this is my exact situation? Yeah.

Harpy Hare has been in my head all week, lol. I wish I could have finished this earlier to kind of fit in with the Levimonth24 post-war marriage day, but oh well.

Masterlist

[r3starttt]

OBLIVIATE | 00

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > CHAPTER ONE

an: comment to be added to the taglist!

SUMMARY: Amidst the seemingly flawless life, at the peak of the perfection, a looming fear emerges from the very plan that set everything in motion. It shadows you and your wife like a persistent ghost. Memories of youth and a vow to eternal love now cling relentlessly, tempting them to give it another chance.

CW: WIP. +18 content. poly relationship. threesome. sexting. smut encounters. description of sex. modern au. famous au. college au. ex to lovers. time skips.

hockey player! a. rockstar! e. actress! r.

Faded Polaroids lingered between your fingers, each one handled with the utmost delicacy and love.

PROLOGUE

You and Abby had just moved for the third time this year. This entire week had been a blur of sleepless nights spent unpacking. Abby had refused to allow anyone else access to the privacy of your new home, earning frequent scoldings from you, constantly reminding her how things could've been much easier that way.

You only accepted her request because of a very specific person on your mind.

Since your careers took off, neither of you had had a proper chance to settle down. Constantly rushing for interviews and switching roles between trophy wife and fame that left little room for stability.

As you organized the fancy shelfs she bought for the leaving room, Abby found a box filled with memories from her teenage years—music albums, books, and albums she had brought from her home after your marriage, knowing how much you cherished such things.

Taking a break to eat and rest, you both decided to sift through them. You laughed at her old photos, where she looked adorable or, as she called herself, 'nerdy' with her first pair of glasses. Constantly melting at her baby pictures, falling even more in love with the woman before you.

However, the comfort dimmed when you found a particular Polaroid—one you had once begged to take so you would never forget that day. Abby rested her head on your shoulder in the photo, your arms on each side, holding the camera, an auburn girl on your other side.

"What's that?" Abby's voice took you off trance. Your eyes flickered between the Polaroid in your hand and her face, simply leaning the picture to her.

"Guess we mixed them last time" She muttered quietly "Thought you put it here on purpose" a dismissive tone in those words, such a fake acting.

"Nah, I've got a whole box for it" you met her eyes. Your eyebrows furrowing at the tone on her voice, mocking you.

"I've been thinking about her" You handed her another picture, a small dog on Abby's lap. An intent to distract her from the emotions your words might evoke.

"Yeah?" Her hand brushed yours as she took the Polaroid. "What about her?" The couch creaked as she shifted closer to you.

"How's she doing?" you whispered, breaking the silence that kep on growing between both. "You've herd the news." Abby inquired, quite nonchalantly

"I miss her," you admitted. Saying it aloud felt strange, almost wrong- it left a bittersweet taste.

You hoped she would say something, but instead, she was distracted by another Polaroid she handed you seconds later. It was one you had never seen before, there she was, Ellie Williams

-

It all started with what was supposed to be a studying session, for you.

Both of them, well, Ellie had offered to help you with some math things you were having issues with. Abby decided to join 'I don't trust you two alone'

After that day, their need for you became a constant, unwavering presence. If they had been touch-deprived before, yearning for your glance, your kiss, any sign of affection, it only intensified afterward.

They craved your proximity, your touch, your attention, and it was undeniably tempting.

You agreed with both to let it as a sort of open relationship, a friends with benefits arrangement.

Mostly because you knew it would never work if the three of you stood together.

Not with Abby's aspirations and determination to study something to make her dad proud. Ellie, being deeply invested in her studies, aiming for success- hungry. And you who could only wait for that lucky signal, that defining moment to steer you toward your life's purpose—anything to keep you occupied.

Abby constantly showered you with affection and care, feeling a physical need to spoil both of you. She would often send videos or pictures of her sweaty abdomen post-gym session, accompanied by messages asking if either of you needed anything. "Have you eaten yet?"

On the other hand Ellie kept sexting whenever she had the chance, sending you both nudes with the excuse she needed an opinion before sending them to a girl she'd just met. Which wasn't completely fake- it just happened way too often to not be on purpose.

So, why not give it a chance. If it worked, great. If not, well, you'd find a way to make it function as long as you needed it.

> CHAPTER ONE

- taglist: @softlysunrays @eyesfullofsttars <33 | @cowboylu @ennabear @satellitespinner @flowrmoth

[belovedivies]

Heyyy I love the killer Peter writing that you do it’s amazing🤩

Could I request relationship head canons for Peter like you did for Raphael but this time reader is an assassin like him

peter relationship headcanons

a/n: i'll be taking requests again now that i'm done with midterms (spoiler alert i got my ass beaten :3). this came out a little too long and specific for a hc but i plan to flesh this out on another oneshot- anw, enjoy anon!!! cw: minor spoiler, pre-canon, brief canon-typical cruelty wc: 1.26k m.list

IDEA

You met on neutral ground, mainly because his friend just wouldn’t shut up about this cute girl a few rooms down the hallway. You were three years older than Simon then, with a stature shorter than Peter himself.

Glory Club’s foundation is three things: violence, money, and ego. Assassins were pitched against each other on a daily basis, risking their lives to climb to the top where the Apostles rightfully resided. Where jealousy burnt red hot and became a driving force for success, the flame in you had long died out. Peter stared sometimes, and in your eyes, an ocean of arctic iciness stared right back.

He didn’t think much of it. He couldn’t begrudge anyone for it either. The paycheck was nice, and so was the control, the chokehold over others. Peter had and would play the part of an obedient puppet on strings to this organization as long as he drew breath, and as long it benefited them. Wouldn’t you do the same too? Downed a pill, cracked a skull, tossed and turned in a dusty corner later on because the dried blood felt so uncomfortably sticky on your nape, the scream of agony fresh on your mind. It wasn’t the nicest job out there, but it was for survival. A better cause. And Peter had thought about it rationally; he just owed that much to Father Gabriel.

It did get a little more complicated when you got roped in with them. Peter’s apathy had been evident while you stayed painfully austere, and Simon… was just trying his best to get both of you to talk. Five minutes in and a few hours after that afternoon, he couldn’t fathom why his comrade had thought it was a good idea for them to spar with not just a B-rank killer, but one whom neither of them had ever talked to.

OUTLINE

You really hated your job. Anyone would, at some point in their life.

Solo missions were a norm for Peter—things always worked out smoother and faster for the guy when he was on his own. On the rare occasion, he did get paired up with another person. Sometimes his fellow Apostles, the others a far too prideful assassin who chewed more than they could bite. But today there was you. And there wasn’t anything to go about besides a few surface-level exchanges and the silence in between. He couldn’t begrudge you. It’s only for survival.

A hit to the jugular and the job was done. Once out cold on the ground, the body wasn’t his responsibility anymore. Still, the boy watched with some amount of interest when you picked up the knife and poked around their insides. He left to light up a cigarette, took three brief puffs, and went back to the bedsheets covered in blood with the corpse nailed against the wall.

Sadism wasn’t intentional, but it was a running theme among the ranked Glory Club killers. The only collar made of metal and swine that bound them together by the neck. That you were so deep into the pit of insanity, you either shut off your emotions completely or learned to love the carnage.

Death reeked in every corner of the room, yet it was in you that Peter could tell the scent the clearest. You were there, so strangely out of the place, knees pulled tight against your chest. The look on your face was downright miserable.

When Peter made his way closer to inspect the scene, you tilted your head up to meet his face. The knife slipped, the moon shone, the rain tapered. Then you blinked, which was already so rare in itself. And Peter had blinked too, eyes widened, lips parted open just a fraction in surprise as tears welled up in your eyes. You sobbed and wept your dying heart out all the way until the cleanup crew showed up at the motel. One old lady, grey hair and croaked voice, held you in her arms. Months later when Peter finally asked again, he learned that it had hardly been the first. 

FIRST DRAFT

Just down the road, past the cut of dense trees leading to a lonely seashore, there was an orphanage tucked away from the hustle and bustle of Seoul. The kids always waved whenever Peter passed by during his morning run, a gesture that he had returned with equal warmth. Twice a week, the courtyard was lit up with colorful string lights and music, the mouth-watering scent of food wafting through the night air.

He had seen you outside of the Cathedral before, but not like this. The gentle fluorescents accentuated your features with a certain softness, like marshmallow, like the sea breeze carding through his hair. And you had talked, had smiled, had laughed along with them, had stared at Peter with eyes wide as saucers when one of the caregivers invited him in. You were in an apron with the children clung to your waist, vying for an ounce of your attention. It was a week after the mission and you two had rarely crossed paths. 

Peter wondered if you resented him for it; serving him a rather generous portion of seafood barbecue while dodging teasing comments from the kids through grinding teeth and knife-point smiles. But when your shoulders bumped against him on the bench, the tip of your right ear was burning red.

Simon ended up joining the week that followed, bringing more laughter to the shared space with his horrible singing and playfully flexing his swordsmanship. The edge of your smile grew softer and your shoulders more relaxed as you stuffed everyone’s plates with more food. Peter watched you through the rim of his cup with a tightness in his throat; you had only wanted to be normal. 

EDIT

“The kids are my rock.” You confessed a few months later when the ice wall between you and him finally melted. This late into the night, there wasn’t a wisp of cloud in the sky. The waves hit the shore every second, washing away the footsteps as Peter took a stroll with you along the beach.

You asked him about his dream. He didn’t know how to answer it. Taking away the cruelty and violence that made him the way he is today, what was left of the Apostle Peter? A caring brother to Simon and a good son to Father Gabriel. He might as well have been a husk before and a pretty face after, but there rarely had been anything in between for Peter to define himself. A label. A purpose.

Before he could say it, you gave his shoulder a gentle pat and chuckle, eyes glinting with mirth. “You’ll probably be a bookstore typa guy when you grow older.” And against all odds, the statement drew a chuckle from him too.

Maybe he would. Maybe if there was ever a disbandment order from the Cathedral and Peter had lived long enough to have a hunched back and a head full of grey hair, he would run a small bookstore on his own. Maybe the future Simon would drop by sometimes and tease him for his old-man look despite being older than Peter was.

Maybe the future you, still alive and kicking then, would also visit him, and the future Peter, older and wiser than he is right now, might have had the courage to ask you to stay.

But tonight, there was just the two of you. The moon hung high above the sky, the sea glistened with stars and mysticality. Peter watched as the white moonlight lined up the bridge of your nose and the curves of your cupid bow. The artificial heart inside your chest might not have a pulse, but his own did.

And it was very much beating for you.

[semisgroupie]

I SEE A REFLECTION OF MY SINS IN YOU

priest!getou suguru x fem. reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: HEAVILY sacrilegious, blasphemy, use of a Bible verse during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, piercings (pierced getou makes the brain go brr), light choking, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, mention of having sex in a church

synopsis: who said priests can’t have a little fun? just make sure they repent on sunday

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe priests were one of the biggest hypocrites of them all.

They’re the people that everyone sees as the closest beings to god, the people that could save you from the fiery depths of hell, the people that could save your soul from eternal damnation and the people that are trusted among all. But maybe, just maybe, that’s not the truth. Maybe we should rip them down from that pedestal they’re atop of, maybe we should expose them for their sins and make them worry about the consequences of their actions.

Or maybe, we should let them continue to sin. At the end of the day, they are still going to church on Sunday, they are still repenting for their sins. Continue to let them be sinners especially when you benefit from it the most.

You have never been the sweet church girl your parents tried to raise you to be. Being innocent and complacent never appealed to you but when you were under your parents roof, you followed whatever rule book they laid out for you. There were moments where you disobeyed but only with minor things, sneaking out once they were asleep, coming back home past curfew reeking of alcohol and weed, making out with your boyfriend at the time in the church’s parking lot during Bible study.

Then once you moved out to college you were free to do whatever you wanted, and you did whatever your heart desired. Even to this day you still do as your heart desires. Which has led you to your current relationship, fuck buddy situationship, with the priest at your local church.

Suguru had joined the church almost a year ago due to the former priest falling ill. He immediately caught your attention and you immediately caught his. During his sermons, his eyes would scan the crowd until he could see you. Whenever you would visit him after mass for extra guidance, he was never able to hide the way his hungry eyes roamed your body, drinking in all of your curves like they were the last thing he would see.

After a month of being at the church, he couldn’t take it anymore. His fist was no longer satisfactory, he needed to feel your flesh against his, he needed his cock to delve into the warmth of your mouth and cunt, he needed you to be his salvation. So one Sunday morning, as he was picking up and organizing the Bible’s for morning mass he saw you standing at the entrance. A warm smile hiding devious intent graced his face as it did yours. You begged him for a quick confession, you needed to absolve yourself of the sins that plagued your mind and soul. He obliged, of course, what kind of priest would he be if he didn’t? He listened to your confession with open ears and by the time you were done, his cock ached and throbbed underneath his cassock. He couldn’t let you go away without doing something so he did something completely unorthodox and confessed to you, confessed how you’ve plagued his mind every night while he pumped his cock, how he so desperately wanted to bend you over one of the pews and fuck you senseless until you cried out his name like a prayer.

You took his words as some twisted sign from God. Then after mass you stood behind to fulfill both of your desires. He pulled you into the confessional booth and made you ride him while you recited some of the Bible verses he brought up during mass. The whole experience made you both crave more so you established a plan and schedule for regular hookups.

Today was the day that you two were supposed to meet up. You sat on the queen sized bed of the motel you two frequently went to and awaited his arrival. That’s how it would always go since today he had to conduct Bible study. Some time passed and you finally saw the door knob turn, he opened it and looked at you with a soft smile. “You look as beautiful as always, dear.” Your eyes scanned his body, he was wearing black slacks with a black button up and right at his neck was his clerical collar, you rolled your eyes at the sight of it as he closed the door and moved closer to you.

“If you keep wearing that to our little meetings then word will spread, Father. Imagine how bad it’ll be, the young priest that everyone has grown to love is the biggest sinner of them all.” You both knew nothing would happen. The motel was a few miles away from town and was just used as a rest stop for anyone on a road trip or truckers that needed somewhere to sleep for the night. Even the woman at the front desk didn’t care, as long as money would enter her pocket, she could care less about what happened behind the closed doors of her motel rooms. He chuckled at your words as he moved closer to you and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, “then I’ll just tell them you’re a temptress. You and I both know they’ll believe anything I say, my word is as good as God’s.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes again so instead you drop your head a little to take his thumb into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it before releasing it with a soft pop.

He groaned and felt his cock throb in his pants and leaned down to press his lips against yours in a lust-filled kiss. You lifted your hands to grab at his shirt as his tongue slipped into your mouth, the cool metal that decorated his tongue grazed against yours and made you moan against his lips. When you first found out about his many piercings, you were surprised to say the least. He was able to cover the ear piercings with his hair and somehow hid his tongue piercing from everyone and the piercings that surprised you the most were the four barbells that were tucked away in his pants.

His hands moved underneath your top and pulled it off of you rather roughly. You decided not to wear a bra and he immediately dove down to take your sensitive nipples into his mouth, he groaned as the taste of your skin hit his tongue and looked up at you as you began to thread your fingers through his dark locks. He released the bud from his mouth and dragged his tongue to the other before latching onto it to give it the same treatment. His cock throbbed and ached for release and soon he would grant himself the serenity, he just wanted to hear more beautiful sounds fall from your lips. You moaned his name and after a few moments he released your nipple and stood up.

“You have such a beautiful mouth, makes the most beautiful sounds. Now I want you to put it to work, okay?” He undressed himself, first his shirt, then his pants and briefs until you could finally see his rock hard cock.

It sprung out of its confines and slapped against his toned stomach and the silver piercings caught your eye. You licked your lips at the sight before sticking your tongue out to run it along the underside of his cock, feeling the metal that decorated it. Once you reached the head of his cock you wrapped your lips around it, suckling on it for a few moments before opening your mouth to take more of his cock in your mouth. He groaned and rolled his head back, “God granted me the gift of your sinful mouth and body. Oh how lucky am I.” He placed one hand on top of your head to guide your movements, moving you along his cock and trying to restrain himself from forcing you to take him entirely down your throat. Patience was a virtue he held dear, until he met you. He let you continue to take your time for a few more moments before shoving his cock down your throat, using both of his hands to keep you in place.

“That’s much better, a mouth like yours needs to be purged forcefully. Taking my time won’t do you any justice.” You felt his piercings along your tongue as he started thrusting into your mouth. The tip of his cock nestled in the back of your throat and his balls slapped against your chin with each thrust. You felt the burning ache between your thighs and you had to satiate yourself before you grow mad. So, you snaked one hand down and started to rub your clit, your moans vibrated along his cock and it made him twitch in your mouth. He bit his lip as he pulled out of your mouth completely, only a few strings of saliva connect you to the tip of his cock. He shuddered as the cold air hit his cock, since it was no longer basked in the warmth of your mouth and it craved more, he craved more.

“So, what are your plans now? Want to watch me pant and pleasure myself like a heathen? Or do you finally want to fuck me?” You bit your lip as your hand continued to rub quick circles along the swollen bundle of nerves, a low moan left your lips and his cock twitched again. He leaned down and hooked his hand under your arm, tugging you up from your position and pushing you on the bed so you’re bent over it. His hands moved along your plush thighs and moved up to push your flimsy skirt up, giving him a better view of your soaked panties. “You drive me crazy when you wear these little skirts to mass, always distracting me whenever you cross your legs. I remember the first time you surprised me by not wearing panties underneath, I almost choked on my spit when I saw this needy cunt, glistening under the lord’s light.” He hooked his lithe fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, tossing them to the side since they were no longer needed.

Your need grew with each passing second and you could feel yourself clench around nothing. You let out a low wanton whine, you were waiting for this all week and now that he was finally behind you, you couldn’t wait any longer. “Suguru, please — fuck!” Your whines were quickly replaced with a loud moan, he pushed himself into you so suddenly, your legs shook and your hands flew to the sheets, gripping them tightly in your fists. “No need to whine or complain, I was giving you what you wanted. I need this just as bad as you do, my sweet temptress.” He gripped your hips tight enough to bruise the skin and started to thrust, each drag of his cock along your walls was beyond blissful. His piercings rubbing along your walls made your toes curl. He first started off with slow thrusts despite his abrupt entrance inside you then began to thrust faster and harder.

Low grunts and groans left his lips while whines, mewls and cries left yours. It felt like angels were singing in his ears each time you cried out his name. He moved one hand up from your hips and brought it to your neck. He wrapped his hand around it and brought you up, making his cock hit even deeper. His mouth was pressed right against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning your skin before he started to speak. “You know, this reminds me of one of the verses we went over today in Bible study. Mind if I recite it to you?” You nodded dumbly at his words and he knew you couldn’t comprehend whatever he told you. “It's from the epistle of James, ‘But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.’ We have been tempted by each other and now engage in a constant ritual of sin, if God were to strike us dead right now, I’d die the most blissful death known to man. I think it's pretty ironic, I am a man who has devoted himself to God and I have planned to live a life free of sin, yet here I am, committing some of the worst sins known to man. I should be leading you away from temptation yet here I am, pushing you headfirst into the fiery depths.”

He snaps his hips into yours harder, almost animalistically and drags his tongue along the side of your neck. You bring one of your hands up and wrap it around his wrist, holding onto him as best as you can as he continues to fuck you senseless. Choked out gasps and moans leave you and you grip his wrist tighter and you edge closer and closer to an orgasm. “Gonna cum!” You gasped out and he moved his hand from the front of your throat to the back of your neck to push you down against the bed. Your cheek pressed against the soft fabric as he drills into you mercilessly. “Oh god! Oh fuck!” You babble out and tremble underneath him more, making him chuckle. “You should never use the Lord’s name in vain, especially during a time like this. But, I’ll just make sure you repent later during your confession. I think 10 hail mary’s while I’m edging you will do just fine, I’ll make sure you don’t cum until you say your last one. But for now, cum. Make a mess all over my cock and I’ll give you my own blessing and coat your insides in cum.”

He snaked his other hand down to rub your clit, finally sending you over the edge into your own paradise. A cry of his name paired with thank you’s left your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and threatened to spill and with a few more heavy thrusts from him, they finally ran. He continued to snap his hips into yours, greedily chasing his own release until he finally came inside of you. His cock twitched as heavy spurts of cum flooded your cunt. If you weren’t on birth control then you were sure that you would’ve been bearing his child. He released his grip on the back of your neck and leaned down to pepper kisses along your spine and shoulder blades as he came down from his high.

Heavy breaths left the both of you and he slowly pulled out to drop on the bed beside you. He opened his arms to let you cuddle close to him and he wrapped his arms around you. You both basked in the comfortable silence before he finally spoke, “I know it’ll sound cheesy but I am thankful that God put us in each other’s paths. You’ve made priesthood much more enjoyable.” You smile at his words and press a few kisses along his chest before lifting yourself up to press your lips against his. “It is cheesy but I am thankful as well. It’s not everyday where you get the chance to fuck the hot priest.” You laughed as he shook his head and pinched your side. You swatted his hand away and rested your chin on his chest, taking a strand of his hair between your fingers to twirl it. He watched you with a smile on his face while his fingers danced along your skin.

You were both convinced that in some twisted way, you were meant to be together like this, you were both meant to indulge in sin and then use prayers to cleanse your souls. It was in your nature to sin and why go against nature and God’s wishes?

taglist: @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @hellsingalucard18 @suyacho @cherrykamado @satmitsuplanet @benkeibear @watyousayin

[fanby-fckry]

You know what, I’m just gonna say it. I think that Alastor being aroace is part of the reason he’s so shippable to me.

Before you come at me, check the flag in my pfp; I’m aroace-spec.

Maybe it’s me projecting, maybe it’s because I love exploring relationships through an aroace lens, but goddamn. I ship him more than any other character and every time I do, his aroaceness is a major component in the ship.

Examples below the cut because it’s gonna get long:

📻🍎 || RadioApple:

There are so many versions of this dynamic and I am here for all of them.

We have the pre-canon kinky QPR that I show in UH3. I could talk about that all day, but to summarize:

Aroace x genuinely respectful allo is a dynamic that heals my soul.

Lucifer is less tied down by human constructs like amatonormativity, having never been human himself.

The Devil values consent.

Kinky cannibalism, kinky cannibalism, kinky cannibalism, kinky ca- *I am removed from the stage with a comically large hook*

Then we have the Evil and fucked up QPR dynamic:

And of course, trying to get along for Charlie’s sake and eventually bonding over their shared love of dad jokes and musical theatre, both being violinists (yup, Alastor plays violin too, check the wiki) with niche hobbies/interests (ducks, furby organ) and accidentally winding up in a loving, healthy QPR.

📻🕸️ || RadioDust:

There’s something about an aroace and a sex worker who very rarely falls in love.

Angel would know that Alastor isn’t with him for sex, would know that he values Angel beyond his body.

With greyro Alastor, Angel and Alastor would both be inexperienced with romance, but in wildly different ways. Angel has never had a healthy romantic relationship and therefor tries not to fall in love. Greyro Alastor has probably experienced romantic attraction like less than three times in his 100+ years of existence.

And if Alastor never gains romantic attraction for Angel, that’s a whole other level to the dynamic.

It’s got some great angst potential with Angel wondering if he’s not good enough to love romantically or Alastor feeling guilty or confused as to Why It Hasn’t Happened Yet when he cares for Angel so deeply, and eventually it gets resolved with the two of them accepting that their attractions don’t have to match up for them to love/appreciate/care for each other and they smash the amatonormative relationship hierarchy as queer platonic partners.

Or, Angel’s just totally cool with it from the start because he’s spent decades in the kink scene and has potentially been exposed to more relationship anarchy than Alastor.

Kink and queerness have a great deal of historical and cultural overlap, and that includes aroace queerness. Because Angel’s had way more canon exposure to both, it’s possible he knows more about Alastor’s orientation than Alastor does, and I love the idea of Angel introducing him to terms or just being super chill about not labeling things.

📻♥️ || RadioHusk:

Drawing like 90% from pilot dynamic and headcanon on this. They’re just two old men. They get drunk and cuddle. Alastor is one of the few people who knows Husk can purr and takes advantage of this fact. Alastor considers Husk a friend in a fucked up, possessive way. Husk considers Alastor a pain in the ass, but does care about him on some level.

It’s Fucked Up and Evil QPR: Remix Edition.

And the versions where the author puts them through fanfic couple’s therapy and actually gets them into a healthy point in their relationship? One where Alastor no longer owns Husk’s Soul? *chef’s kiss*

📻🌹 || RadioRose:

For me, personally, this is an exclusively nonsexual, non-romantic ship. They’re besties; they’re QPPs. They’re married for the tax benefits and so that they cannot be forced to testify against each other in court.

Rosie knew Alastor was aroace before he did and rather than sit down and explain it to him, she decided to make ace puns.

📻🖤 || RadioSiren: [edit, context here] RadioFemme

Ok, so this is entirely based on non-canon-compliant Lilith. Or, I guess, non-series-compliant Lilith. More of the old WOG stuff from the pilot era, with a healthy dose of headcanon for flavor.

I love the idea of Lilith and Lucifer having an open marriage; I love the UH3 style polycule dynamic.

Lilith being the original seductress and Alastor being aesthetically but not sexually or romantically attracted to her is very near and dear to my heart.

I’m an aroace with a voice kink who is aesthetically attracted to Lilith and I think Alastor is an aroace with a voice kink who would be aesthetically attracted to Lilith, ok?

📻📺 || RadioStatic:

I’m gonna be real with you, 90% of my interest in RadioStatic is in the one-sided version where Vox is a pathetic little incel simp and Alastor is either oblivious, mildly annoyed, or finds the whole thing hilarious.

Whenever there’s any reciprocation on Alastor’s part, I always imagine it being in a very aroace, very Alastor-esque way. He needs to be get something out of it completely unrelated to sex/romance. And he needs to be manipulative and sadistic in the process.

Whether that something is kink-related, a business transaction, or simply the quality entertainment provided by Vox being a cringefail TV-headed little bitch, I love to see it.

[twig-tea]

Things from Wandee Goodday ep 3 I can't stop thinking about:

I love so much that we got some good friends with benefits tension around personal boundaries when Dee asked who Yei was and then backed off (but Yak told him anyway). And between the jokes about rimming, Dee demanding Yak pay more attention to his dick last episode, and starting this episode in the 69 position, I am very, very here for this show saying over and over that sex is not just one act.

[ID: Gif of the beginning of episode 3, whichi is a pan-to-shot of Dee and Yak laying in 69 position on the floor under blankets]

i loved the different responses to hearing someone you love is in a "Friends with Benefits" situation; Kao warned Dee not to catch feelings or read too much into the situation and Cher/Yei teased Yak for lying to himself about what the situation is. Both are super valid and speak to who Dee and Yak are, who Kao and Cher/Yei are, and all of their experiences with love. And it speaks to the closeness of these relationships too, that Cher noticed Yak's necklace gone immediately and Kao similarly clocked its addition on Dee instantly.

Super here for Kao being the ultimate support bestie at work, equal parts haranguing and backing Dee up. Their relationship is perfection.

I really liked Yak peace-ing out of their agreement when Dee dropped a huge request with no context, that was so valid and in the spirit of FWB (he didn't actually owe him a bigger conversation).

I've already reblogged a couple of other people (@negrowhat and @lurkingshan) talking about this so I won't belabour it, but I am judging Dee for not only ignoring Yak's boundaries by going to his workplace and forcing him to train him and then flirting with him during training sessions after Yak both made clear he's worried about being out at work and had ended their agreement. I hope we get more of an explanation for Yak's reticence about dating a man while aiming for the championship as well as his change of mind.

The conversations with Cher and Oyei have me so curious about their history! Tell me everything, show. I put these questions in tags on a gifset (but to put them on main: Where is Oyei and Yak's father (who is also a former champ but apparently uninvolved with this family business, if he's still alive)? What happened to Yak's mother that he doesn't know if he takes after her? Why can they go to Cher's family for financial help but not Yei/Yak's (to the point where they had to take out what sounds like a predatory loan during COVID)? What is Cher afraid of re: being seen being affectionate to Oyei, and where does that come from? Is this history related to why Yak is so worried about his relationship to Dee getting in the way of his championship? All of this is seeded so organically and I'm so, so curious. It also has me even more in my feelings about Cher and Yei calling Yak their son.

[ID: Gif of Yei saying to Cher: I own this place. What's there to be afraid of? From the set linked in the paragraph above]

[I have a clown theory that Cher and Oyei's relationship is why his dad is out of the picture and his gym is in financial trouble (because it prevented Yei from getting sponsorship despite being a champion), and why Yak is worried about being in a relationship with a man even though he knows his brother won't care...we'll see how much of this the show pulls together!]

The flash of trauma from Dee at the crosswalk was interesting too; where is that going? What happened in Dee's past and how is it going to affect the story in future?

[More clown speculation: Is it related to why Dee is so good with patients and passionate about ortho? Has he seen someone in his life become disabled due to physical injury?]

Speaking of, I really loved seeing Dee be good at his job and great with patients and their families. In addition to it being just nice to see and good for our understanding of his character, it sets him up to have a fighting chance in the contest too, since patients apparently get a vote.

I love love love the camaraderie and giggling between Dee and Yak around making Ter jealous and shoving their fake relationship in those gossiping nurses' faces. The way they are actually friends who like one another and enjoy spending time together is just really wonderful to watch.

My biggest question is: Will Dee get a chance in this narrative to show up for Yak the way Yak has been showing up for Dee? And how can that current imbalance be reconciled with this all leading towards Dee trying to get a placement to go abroad--and his self-stated toxic trait of always needing to win? [shoutout to @chicademartinica for laying that out succinctly in her post]

In the meantime, I'm having a blast.