#and they don't like anyone that might get in their way

[hoshifighting]

      jeonghan + anonymous sex

— where you discover that behind the scary mask, who's eating you out, is your professor, mr. yoon.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, oral, halloween party setting, penetrative sex, oral [f. rec], dirty talk, edging, taboo, fingering.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

halloween at uni was always a wild time—like, the one night when everyone just let loose and acted like idiots without any shame. it was a free pass to look either insanely sexy or terrifying as hell, and you’d seen both ends of that spectrum in past years. mostly, you loved it ‘cause it was kinda like a game of guess-who after the party, everyone spending the week after trying to figure out who was who under those masks. and that’s why the costumes just got more and more wild. anonymity? sign you up.

you and jewie, your ride-or-die dormmate, had done the whole horror bit every year, rocking the most messed up, bloodied-up outfits you could think of. but this year you both decided to go full-on sexy for once. jewie was rocking this short-ass witch outfit, all black and lace and pointy hat, and you—well, you were killing it (pun intended) in your killer bunny getup. thigh-high lacy white socks that clung to your skin, corset cinching you in, and this creepy-ass bunny mask that made you look both cute and dangerous. not to mention, the whole mask thing meant anything could go down and nobody would know.

“yo, you really gonna leave a note in his locker?” jewie whispered, eyes sparkling as the two of you snuck into the staff wing, the sound of your heels echoing off the empty halls.

“hell yeah, i’ve been crushing on prof yoon since he walked into his first lecture looking like a whole-ass snack,” you hissed back, your heart racing.

she let out a cackle, almost too loud. “he’s gonna die when he sees it. also, maybe don't bend over like that unless you want your ass out for the world to see.”

you shot her a look over your shoulder, half squinting through your mask. “fuck you, i’m not gonna walk like i’ve got a stick up my ass.”

“babe, that’s your job,” she teased, slapping your ass as you fumbled with the lock on the door. she was always like that—pushy, teasing, but down for whatever dumb thing you suggested, no questions asked.

finally, you managed to crack open the door to prof yoon’s locker, and the nervous excitement flared up all over again. “i’m doin’ it,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you slid the note into his stuff. just a stupid little flirty note. something anonymous and mysterious. if he recognized your handwriting? well, oops. that’s a future problem.

jewie watched, leaning against the doorframe, eyes flicking between you and the locker. “if he likes it, we might need to sneak you back in here to leave more. like a killer bunny pen pal situation.”

you laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “he’s not that dumb, but if he was, i’d consider it.”

you straightened up, adjusting your mask before looking back at jewie. the whole night felt like some weird fever dream—maybe it was the booze from earlier or just the high of running around campus dressed like this, but you felt unstoppable.

“okay, let’s get outta here before we get caught,” jewie said, pushing herself off the wall. “i swear if we see anyone, i’m pretending i don’t know you.”

“bitch, please, you’d totally rat me out,” you shot back, nudging her as the two of you slipped out of the staff room, adrenaline still pumping.

you took a long sip from your pouch, the cheap booze hitting just right as you swayed along with jewie to the beat. then, mid-spin, you spotted something—or rather, someone—that made you freeze in place, your lips still wrapped around the straw.

“i can’t fucking believe it,” you muttered, pulling the straw out and sulking like a kid who just had their candy stolen.

jewie gave you a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. “what’s got your panties in a twist now?”

you nodded toward the door, where another killer bunny had just strutted in, looking way too damn good for your liking. “look at that,” you said, gesturing with your drink. “bunny? okay, fine. but killer too? are you shitting me? what’re the odds?”

you huffed, feeling your vibe slightly killed by the sight of the other guy wearing basically the same damn thing as you—except he had this slutty, fitted black suit, and his mask was just as creepy as yours, that luscious black hair peeking out from behind it.

“wow,” jewie scoffed, following your gaze. “you’re really pressed about another killer bunny? seriously? it's halloween, dude, chill. everyone’s doubling up.”

“easy for you to say,” you muttered, still eyeing the guy. “you're not the only slutty witch in the room.”

she rolled her eyes, snorting. “uh, excuse me? i've seen, like, five other witches tonight, and one of them even had a broom—a broom, y/n. i just accepted it. it’s halloween.”

it was halloween, and sure, half the campus was probably dressed as witches, zombies, or sexy cops. but still, the nerve of this guy, strutting in like he invented the killer bunny look.

“and, you know what? my panties are in a twist, actually,” you shot back, glaring at jewie, who just gave you an unimpressed look. “like, literal twist. feels like they’re strangling me.”

she burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “oh my god, you’re such a mess. there’s a whole locker room situation going on if you wanna fix it. no one’s gonna be in there anyway..”

“the locker room?” you hummed, considering it for a second. “yeah, might as well. better than walking around with my ass in knots.”

you slipped away from the party, the beat of the music fading as you made your way down the empty hallway, heels clacking against the floor. it was eerily quiet outside the main campus area, the darkness swallowing up the noise from the party like you were walking into another world. halfway there, though, you swore you heard something. footsteps, maybe? you glanced back over your shoulder, but the hallway was just as empty as before. shrugging it off, you kept walking.

then again—footsteps.

you whipped around, heart starting to race a bit. nothing. nobody. great, you thought. either you’re paranoid or some dude in a clown costume’s gonna jump out at you any second.

you sped up, practically rushing into the locker room, slamming the door behind you like that would keep the creepy vibes out. with a sigh, you lifted your skirt and fixed the tangled mess of fabric underneath. “goddamn,” you muttered, whistling in relief as the tension eased up. “finally.”

you made your way to the mirror, fluffing up your hair, adjusting your bunny ears, trying to look like you hadn’t just freaked yourself out. but then you heard it again—footsteps. this time, not so distant. real close.

before you could even react, the door creaked open, and there he was. the other killer bunny. strolling in like he owned the place, chill as could be, like it wasn’t the feminine locker room he’d just waltzed into.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare through the mirror. “stole my idea and my spot?”

he snorted, leaning against the sink with his back turned to the mirror, eyes just fixed forward, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “stole your idea? babe, i’ve been rockin’ this for ages.”

“you saw it from me!” you shot back, turning around to face him, pointing at him accusingly. “i should sue for copyright or some shit.”

he let out a low chuckle, tilting his head slightly like he was amused by your little outburst. “you can have the bunny part. i’ll keep the killer part.”

“real original,” you scoffed, turning back to the mirror, fixing a stray curl in your hair. “and what’re you even doing in the locker room? you lost or just stupid?”

“neither,” he said simply, his voice way too smug for someone who looked like he just broke into the wrong locker room. “it was either this, or i piss in a bush somewhere. decided to be classy tonight.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the slight smirk pulling at your lips. “yeah, real classy, creeping around the women’s locker room.”

he leaned closer, still not turning to look in the mirror. “who says i’m creeping? maybe you just walked into my locker room.”

“oh, so now it’s your locker room too? boy, you’re bold.”

“what can i say? bunny privileges,” he said, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world.

you shook your head, turning to look at him fully now, sizing him up. he was tall, broad, the slutty suit clinging to him just right, his posture relaxed like he didn’t have a care in the world. and that hair, black and messy behind his mask—well, you’d give him one thing. he wore the costume well. too well.

“you know,” you said, leaning back against the sink next to him, crossing your arms. “if you’re tryna intimidate me, it’s not working. you’re just another bunny.”

he chuckled again, that low, almost lazy sound that somehow made your skin tingle. “maybe i’m not tryna intimidate you. maybe i’m just waiting for you to admit i look better.”

you scoffed, pushing off the sink and standing up straight, close enough now that you could smell the faint cologne clinging to him. it was… annoyingly nice. “please, i wouldn’t give you that satisfaction even if you paid me.”

“we’ll... see about that?” he murmured, finally turning to face you, his body looming over yours. his mask obscured most of his face, but his eyes locked onto yours, like he could see right through the sass.

and there it was. that thing on your lower stomach that snuck up on you out of nowhere. “you really think you can handle me, bunny?” you teased.

he didn’t flinch. his lips twitched into a grin under the mask.

“handle you?” he echoed, his voice dropping an octave. “baby, i’m just getting started.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer, testing him, seeing how far you could push. “then show me what you got.”

his hand was on you in a second, pulling you toward him with a firm grip on your waist, his breath hot through the mask. and suddenly, the empty locker room didn’t feel so empty anymore. his other hand slid down, grazing your thigh before hiking your skirt up. “you sure you wanna play this game?” he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you let out a breathy laugh, your hands fisting into the fabric of his suit. “you started it.”

“yeah?” his grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, your bodies fitting together too perfectly. “then let me finish it.”

he leaned in for the kiss, but both of you realized, almost at the same time, that the stupid mask was in the way. your lips collided with the hard plastic, and for a second, it was awkward as hell—until you both burst into laughter. “yeah, that’s not gonna work,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“guess we’ll just have to improvise,” he murmured back, and before you knew it, he had spun you around, pressing your hips firmly against the cold sink. the chill of the ceramic made you gasp, but it was nothing compared to the way his fingers slid under the elastic of your garter, pulling it away from your skin before letting it snap back on ur skin.

“fuck,” you hissed, as the sting amde your pussy drool. he was watching you through that damn mask, his fingers traced the hem of your skirt before he flipped it over your lower back, exposing the white lacy set you’d chosen to match the whole killer bunny thing.

“fuckin’ cute,” he growled as he took in the sight of your barely-there panties and thigh-highs. “you really wore this for halloween? shit’s a fuckin’ joke,”

the degradation in his tone made your cheeks burn, you bit down on your lip, trying to keep your composure, he noticed everything.

“what’s the matter?” he asked, mock concern as his hands skimmed over your thighs, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp again. “you like being called cute while i fuck you up?”

you didn’t even have time to respond before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down painfully slow, the lace barely clinging to your hips before he let them drop to your ankles. you kicked them off instinctively, your breath hitching when you saw him bend down slightly, he picked them up off the floor, turning the flimsy lace in his fingers for a second before shoving them deep into his pocket.

“gonna keep these,” he muttered, half to himself, half to you. standing up straight again. his hands, slid up your legs, spreading them just a bit more. the rough pads of his fingers brushed against the inside of your thighs, teasing you, waiting for you to beg, or break.

and god, you were close to breaking already.

one hand held your waist firmly in place, pressing you harder against the sink, while the other slipped between your legs, his fingers sliding against your wetness with an agonizing slowness.

“oh.. all soaked already?” he muttered, like he knew exactly how ruined you were just from his touch. “and we haven’t even started. you’ve been thinking about this? about me bending you over, fingers deep in this pretty little pussy?”

you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you as his middle and ring fingers dipped inside, your pussy swallow him immediately, even when the skin burns a little with the stretch. his long fingers immediately finding that sweet, squishy spot, for a moment, resting the fingers there.

he kept the pads of his fingers facing down, rubbing slow, tight circles against that sensitive spot, making you clench around him. you've never been stimulated like this, it looked so different and knowing for a college boy. the sensation was enough to make your knees weak, but his grip on your hips kept you steady, held in place as he worked you open.

he leaned down, the mask still in place, but you could feel the heat of him behind you. “you hear that? hear how fucking wet you are? all for me, huh?”

you did, in fact, it echoed in the empty locker room, as you try to be quiet. but you moaned in response, your head falling forward, resting on your arms as you tried to catch your breath. every stroke of his fingers had your pussy tightening, thighs shaking, and you were half-sure you’d collapse if it weren’t for the him keeping you upright.

his other hand moving up your back just enough so he could press his lips against your bare shoulder. you felt him lift the mask just slightly, and then his mouth was on you, kissing, biting, his teeth grazing your skin in a manner that had you arching into him.

“fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered. “so sweet. but i bet you taste even better down here.”

you groaned in frustration when you realized he was still wearing that damn mask, completely blocking the possibility of him going down on you. he noticed the way you moaned extra loud, probably because you’d been imagining it—his mouth between your legs, tasting how worked up you were.

he cooed, amused by your reaction, shaking his head like you were some kind of innocent mess. “fuck baby, i’d love to, but this mask is getting in the way. you know that.” his voice was so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal at all, like it wasn’t torture for you. and god, that whimper that left your throat? pathetic. even you knew it. you rolled your hips on his fingers, desperate for something, anything to replace what you couldn’t have right now. the wet, slick sound of his fingers working into you echoed around the room, filling the space with a vulgar kind of music that had him biting his lip, watching you fall apart over nothing.

“oh, you really want it bad, huh?” he laughed, and you whined again, the sound so embarrassingly needy that it should’ve made you blush. but instead, it only made you more desperate. his teasing was too much.

“fuck,” you muttered, half-begging, and he pulled back a bit, thinking for a second before a playful smirk took over his lips.

“let’s play a game then,” he offered, your brows furrowed in confusion, but the second he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, you felt your whole body heat up in response. “we take the masks off. but,” he paused, his fingers still torturing you, making your hips twitch every time he pressed just right. “we keep our eyes closed. i’ll eat you out, i’ll do anything you want, but no peeking.”

you hummed at the idea, already thinking of how good it would feel to have him without the barrier of those stupid masks. but before you could even respond, he tilted his head, adding with a teasing lilt, “but first... i gotta fuck you. because you’re so fucking tight, so fucking pretty squirming around my fingers like this.” his voice softened into something almost sweet, like he was praising you, and the way he cooed when you shyly squirmed against his hand, embarrassed by his words, had your body tightening in response. “such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you were nodding before you even realized, the words barely out of your mouth before you agreed to it. the mask was yanked off, tossed to the side, and you felt him pull away slightly. you didn’t dare look back at him, though—you kept your promise, eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling rapidly.

you felt him shift behind you, the rustle of fabric as he undid his pants filling the locker room with a sharp, exciting edge. his fingers left you with a wet pop, and the sound made you shiver. god, you could still hear it—how soaked you were, how turned on he’d made you. your body reacted to the absence of his touch with a small gasp, but the moment you felt his warm breath near your ear again, your nerves melted away.

“don’t open your eyes,” he warned in that same serious tone, even though you could practically hear the smile on his face. you nodded, swallowing hard, trying to keep still. his fingers returned, now gripping your hips firmly, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, needing more.

“good girl,” he murmured, guiding you to bend further over the sink. your chest pressed against the cold surface, your eyes squeezed shut, but you could feel everything. you were painfully aware of how exposed you were to him, the skirt flipped up, your wetness on full display.

the blunt head of his cock nudged at your entrance, slick and heavy, and you braced yourself, but he didn’t push in. instead, he slid it up, dragging it along your folds, teasing your clit and the leaking hole. the sensation had your toes curling, and you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “you just gonna rub it?”

he chuckled darkly, pressing the tip against your entrance again but not entering. “thought i’d take my time, make you beg a little more.”

you groaned, squirming under him, your hips moving on their own as you chased the penetration. you could feel him smiling behind you, still teasing, but his hand was firm on your hips, holding you steady as he slowly dragged his cock up and down, brushing against your clit every time. it was maddening, the way he was holding back, making you wait, making you ache for him.

“you want it that bad, hm?” he asked, and before you could even answer, he pushed in, sliding into you with a slick, deep thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs as you watch pitch black. “fuck, there it is.”

you moaned, the sudden fullness overwhelming, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as he held you in place, his cock buried deep inside. he didn’t move at first, just let you adjust to the stretch, but his hands were still moving—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your ass, squeezing hard as he groaned low in his throat.

“ah!–don' squeeze me like that,” he muttered, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips grinding into yours rolling the dick in and out of you. “taking me so well... pretty pussy devouring my cock.”

you whimpered at his praise, your body trembling with every slow stroke. he wasn’t holding back anymore, his pace picking up, his hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing light, quick circles that had you moaning loudly.

the thing was;

his eyes had been wide open the whole time.

he was practically glowing with the fact that you hadn’t recognized him at all. he knew it was you from the second you stepped into the party, making him choke on his own spit, all dressed up in that killer bunny costume, and it made him feel like he was holding onto the biggest secret ever. you had no idea who you were fucking, and that made everything ten times hotter.

as you leaned over the sink, he got a perfect view of your face blushing beneath your expertly done makeup, all those little details you’d spent hours perfecting. the way the light caught the shimmer on your cheeks, the dark eyeliner framing your eyes just right—it was beautiful. even though you planned on hiding your face with that mask for the entire night.

he pretended to keep his eyes closed, even though he could barely contain his excitement. “i hope you don't open your eyes hm? you wouldn't want to lose me eating you out, right?” he’d said with a smirk, watching as you nodded obediently. you were so good at this—everything about you, from the way you shifted on the sink to the way you were biting your lip in need, made him ache to see your true reaction when you finally figured it out.

he could feel your nervous energy as you followed his lead, trusting him completely. it was almost comical how easy it was to manipulate the situation, how horny you were, and he couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself.

“you’ve got no idea how fucking cute you moan,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he continued to thrust into you. the way you squirmed made him even harder, and he could feel his own arousal rising at the thought of keeping this secret just a little longer.

“shut up,” you whined, clearly flustered by his words, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. god, you were adorable. he kept it playful, teasing you even more as he leaned down to press his lips against your shoulder, kissing a line up your neck as he continued to roll his hips into you. “just focus on how good you feel.”

every thrust sent a quiver through you, and he could feel you responding to him, getting wetter with every move. you were lost in it, and he was completely taken by the way your body reacted to his touch. he loved how your sounds filled the space, how you couldn’t help but moan louder and louder as he picked up the pace, fucking you deeper.

“tell me how good it feels.”

“so good, you feel so good—your cock—s'big!” you breathed, and he reveled in the power he had over you. he could see the way your body squirmed beneath him, anguished for more, and it only pushed him to keep going.

“that’s right, keep saying it,” he encouraged, his fingers curling around your waist, pulling you back against him as he hit that sweet spot inside you. “i want to hear everything, since i cant see it.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your that sweet release pulsing, and just when you were about to hit that peak, he pulled out, leaving you gasping “what the fuck?!” you cried, your voice high-pitched with desperation, eyes still closed. he couldn’t help but chuckle at your frustration, knowing just how good you felt, but wanting to keep you on that brink a little longer.

“patience, bunny,” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you’ll get what you want.”

with that, he pushed back into you, driving deep and hard, and the sound of your moan filled the locker room. “yes! please!” you begged, fingers digging into the sink as you rocked back against him.

but again, right when you were so close, he slipped out. “no, no, don’t do that!” you whined, the desperation in your voice making him grin. “i was so close!”

“i won’t let you cum on my cock,” he said, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he watched your expression crumble. your face fell against your arms in defeat, sulking like a petulant child. “why?” you whined, the sulk evident in your voice, and he couldn’t help but scoff at how adorable you looked, all flustered and desperate.

just then, his hand tangled in your hair, tugging enough to make you almost open your eyes. the sudden pressure made a strangled moan escape your throat, and he loved it.

he slowly turned you around, guiding you to sit on the cold sink. you cursed under your breath, your legs instinctively spreading wide as you positioned yourself for him.

“this is so unfair, i cant see you...” you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you thought about how you couldn’t see what he was doing. you could hear the sound of your breath quickening as he dropped to his knees in front of you, the idea of him between your legs making you almost cum on spot.

“you don’t need to see it, babe,” he said, all sultry. fuck you needed to know who he was, and with that, you could feel him get closer, his breath hot against your pussy, making you squirm.

“you’re such an ass for doing this to me,” you groaned, but deep down, you were practically begging for it, and you knew it. he laughed softly, the sound thundering in his chest as he spread your legs wider, giving himself a perfect view of your pussy, the folds puffy, and flushed, dripping beautifully.

a sudden creak from somewhere down the hallway snapped you out of the fog of pleasure, and, instinctively, you opened your eyes. it took a second to adjust, to blink away the haze clouding your vision, but then you looked down—straight at him.

and—

mr. yoon?

“shh,” he whispered, a finger pressed to his own lips, a hint of a smirk twitching as he maintained eye contact with you, even as his head dipped between your legs. you wanted to pull back, to process that your professor was there, settled on his knees in front of you in a locked room, but his mouth had already found your clit.

“oh my god,” you moan, in disbelief, in pure ecstasy. he starts sucking your clit with so hard that makes you dizzy, and your back arches instinctively, the sensations overwhelming. your mind races, but the sight of him—mr. yoon, your strict, no-nonsense professor—eating you out is enough to push you right back over the edge.

you bite your lip to stifle your cries, but it’s no use. the combination of the taboo and the sucking sends you spiraling into the orgasm, and you can feel yourself clenching around his tongue as you cum in his mouth, a whimper escaping your lips.

“holy—” you breathe, panting as he pulls away, licking his lips like he’s savoring the taste of you.

he raises up to kiss you, but you back away instinctively, the shock paralyzing you.

“wait, you didn’t like that it was… me?” he asks, worry flashing across his eyes.

your mind is racing. so he was the one fucking you? after the letter—oh my god. “i… i didn’t know it was you!” you manage to stammer.

he licks his cum-covered lips, that sly grin still in place. he steps back slightly, still unsure of what to say. “so… you liked it, then?”

“well, yeah, but—” you start, but the words fail you. how do you even explain this? how do you tell your professor that he just made you come like that, and it was one of the best experiences of your life?

you catch his gaze, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of worry in mr. yoon’s eyes. he's probably already imagining that expulsion letter or the scandal that’d blow up his career.

“relax,” you murmur, smirking as he watches you. “i’m not about to go blabbing to the dean or anything.” he quirks a skeptical brow, clearly not convinced yet, and you give him a playful shrug. “but only if… you get on your knees again and show me just how much you wanna keep me quiet.”

the corner of his mouth lifts. “oh, is that right?” he murmurs, and before you know it, he’s stepping forward, hands sliding around your waist as he leans down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“guess i’ll have to make sure you’re too busy to even think about talking,” he whispers.

[...]

monday rolls around, and it’s like the entire campus is still buzzing about the halloween party. people are dissecting every detail, trying to figure out who was behind which mask. you’re sitting at your desk, pretending to read the same damn paragraph for the fifth time, but let’s be real—there’s only one thing on your mind: mr. yoon’s dick.

jeonghan’s up at the front, leaning against his desk, teaching as if nothing happened, and you can barely keep a straight face. every time you glance up, you can’t help but picture the way he looked at you, the feel of his hands, his mouth… yeah, not the kind of thoughts you should be having in the middle of class.

the bell finally rings, snapping you out of it as everyone starts packing up. your friend pauses by the door, waiting, but just as you’re about to leave, mr. yoon clears his throat.

“y/n,” he says, there’s that hint of something under it, something only you would catch. “stay a moment, would you?”

you wave your friend off, muttering something about catching up later. she glances between the two of you and, of course, shoots you a knowing smile before shutting the door on her way out. it’s just you and jeonghan now, the room empty and quiet, his gaze pinned on you.

he raises an eyebrow, and his eyes flick towards the closed door. “should i be worried about that smile she gave you?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you blink, caught off guard. “no! no one knows about… us,” you insist, a bit too quickly.

he scoffs, giving you this look like he’s amused but skeptical. “oh, i know that,” he says smoothly, but then he taps his finger on his desk. “but she definitely knows… about this.”

with a dramatic flourish, he slides open a drawer and pulls out the letter. your stomach drops as he lays it out on his desk for you to see, the unmistakable swoop of your handwriting there in all its glory, complete with little heart and butterfly stickers surrounding a mortifyingly filthy sentence.

“wanna feel your cock hitting the deepest part of my pussy until i can’t even remember my name.”

you freeze, face heating up instantly. oh, god. did you really write that?

he chuckles softly, watching you squirm as you avoid his gaze, suddenly very interested in the stack of textbooks on his desk. you press your lips together, practically biting down to keep from making any sound, because your brain is malfunctioning.

“so,” he murmurs, “did you really mean every word?”

[comicaurora]

If you were a sci-fi writer, how would you solve the Fermi paradox? That being the discrepancy between evidence for alien life, versus the likelihood of their existence? (basically. If alien so likely, why we not see?) The Dead Space series has an amazing cosmic horror solution, but i'm curious what you're brain could come up with!

There's a lot of possibilities, some more interesting than others.

The speed of light and the distance between inhabited stars makes it prohibitively slow to detect, make contact with, or reach any star with alien life. It doesn't matter if we're not alone, our corner of Space Reachable Within A Human Lifetime is so comparatively small that we may as well be. We're all blindly wandering through an infinite desert, calling into the void. Space exploration is a long game, and on that timescale, even whole civilizations blink out very quickly. If we manage to catch a signal and follow it, we might find nothing on the other end but ruins - or an asteroid field where a planet's orbit used to be.

The universe is too young for us to find anyone else out there. We're the first. How will we shape the galaxy to make life better for those who come after us?

The life that formed on Earth is terrifyingly invasive. The atmosphere and ocean is choked with monocellular life, and its surface is coated with a mass of multicellular organisms finding new ways to devour one another. Even extinction events don't keep down the biomass for long. If life on other planets looks anything like us, the problem isn't going to be detecting it. It'll have gotten everywhere. The problem is going to be not immediately getting colonized and eaten alive by it. And if life on other planets DOESN'T look like us, our whole planet is probably a class 1 biohazard and contamination risk. Multicellular earth organisms contain microcosmic ecosystems that proliferate explosively when they die. If anything inside them can find ANYTHING to eat, it's over.

Life evolves frequently, but always in oceans. It is extremely rare for any alien life to leave that ocean and adapt to life on land. Without this step, the jump to space exploration - even space contemplation - becomes infinitely more unlikely.

Monocellular life is seeded on planets from an outside source and allowed to self-cultivate and grow until the biomass reaches a certain volume. Then the farmers return to harvest it.

There is not a single other species on our entire planet that humans can actually reliably communicate with. It takes tremendous amounts of training to make an animal capable of recognizing even a handful of words, and very few of them can use them. Humans can't even communicate with other humans with 100% clarity, even if they're using the same language. When we find alien life, if we even recognize it as anything resembling life as we know it, we have absolutely no way of communicating.

Space colonialism has been disallowed by the space geneva conventions due to massive past tragedies, parasitic exploitation of worlds and senseless loss of life. Human expeditionary efforts are being watched warily through targeting sights.

We've known about radio communication for less than 200 years. We haven't yet figured out the medium through which all advanced civilizations communicate.

Alien life exists in abundance, but the vast majority of it is extremely tiny. We wouldn't spot an anthill on a satellite photo, and none of their ships are large enough to survive passage through our atmosphere.

Earth's oxygen atmosphere is an anomaly, and our first and most enduring extinction event. The explosive proloferation of cyanobacteria and their oxygen photosynthesis irreparably altered the planet's prebiotic atmosphere and wiped out everything that couldn't handle the sudden massive increase in a highly reactive and flammable gas. Earth is considered highly toxic and unstable, though recently detected increases in methane and CO2 might signal that nature is finally beginning to heal.

[thesweetestofdreams]

hey gorgeous! I was thinking abt a reader who is a bit of a gym rat and her and James become friends in the gym and every day after the gym he tells rem and siri abt this girl and then one day they all meet somewhere (maybe like grocers i dont know) and the other boys fall in love and then next time they are at the gym James asks her to go on a date with all of them in hogsmeade or something cute like that and they all start going out!!!! Obviously just ignore if that sounded horrific, love you!!💞💞

poly!marauders x reader

A/N: OMg thank you so so much for your request!! I can’t tell you how excited it made me and you’re so incredibly kind! I really hope you enjoy and I hope I did your idea justice. Also let me know if you’d want a part two. I have some ideas!

You poke your head around the corner, eyes searching until you find him. A brick wall of a human, well more like a Greek god. You wave when James’ eyes meet yours in the mirror. He drops his weights and you try not to look at his arms, his hands. 

"You're going lighter," you tease instead, gesturing to his abandoned weights. 

"And you're late." He smiles at you.

"Ugh, I know." Little does he know you were obsessing over every part of your outfit and fussing with your hair. You were down bad, but you knew you couldn't be blamed entirely. You'd seen the looks of other girls, and guys, in the gym whenever James was around, yet somehow you seemed to have garnered his attention.

It all started when he saved you from an unsavory man at the bench press. You'd asked him to spot you, but apparently, he had taken that as more of an invitation than it was. He'd followed you around the gym the entire time, ranting on and on about aspects of himself that he thought made him attractive. After a half-hour of cold shoulder, he still didn't back off. He kept trying to put his hand on your waist, persistently asking for your phone number. 

"Take a hint dude," James said, pulling the man's hand off your waist. He tried to brush James off saying something about how you wanted him there. James made eye contact with you and the look you gave was all he needed. "Seriously man, shove off." Finally, after a particularly withering look from James, the man backed off cursing you for being a tease. 

"Thanks," you said, a hand pressed to your lips, clearly shaken. The whole thing made him incredibly angry. He watched your gaze follow the man across the gym, nervous.

"I'm at the weights if you want to join." The rest was history. Since then James made the gym a safe place for friendly competition and you wouldn't trade it for the world. Even if you did dream of the idea of having something more. 

James had been pretty transparent from the beginning about his relationship. The way he talked about them you felt like you practically knew his boyfriends. He talked about the two almost every chance he got. The way he lit up each time you asked about them, you could tell he loved them. 

"Oh don't let me forget I have something for you," he said from his station at the treadmill next to you. "I was telling Remus about that book you were telling me about, and he said he had one you might like." 

The idea of him talking about you in his home to his boyfriend made your head swim. "You were talking about me?" you half laugh half puff. 

"Of course," he said looking at you like it was the silliest question in the world. "I talk about them when I'm with you." 

By the end of it you were both sweaty messes, but you still let him hang an arm on your shoulder as you left. 

That night James is cooking dinner, and he can’t get his mind off of you. “I'm telling you guys. She's borderline angelic. I mean how can anyone look that good after a workout for real?” 

“I’ve seen you after a good workout Jamesie,” Sirius says, eyes salacious across the kitchen island. 

Pointedly ignoring him, James continues, “She’s just so nice, the sweetest really. I wish you guys could meet her.” He strains noodles over the sink, the steam clouding his glasses. 

“I’m sure she’s lovely, and probably twice as gorgeous as you described, but Remus and I do not do gyms, dear.” 

“You could always invite her for dinner,” Remus says, stirring sauce on the stove. 

“Oh yeah, come on over to my flat and meet my boyfriends even though we never really see each other outside the gym and I could totally be a murderer for all you know.”

“But you’re not a murderer,” Sirius laughs. 

“And how is she supposed to know that?” James pours the pasta into the sauce as Remus stirs.

“If you’re too shy to ask, that’s fine love,” Remus says, knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

You think the grocery stockers are out to get you. Your favorite granola is always on the highest shelf and this time it’s pushed back ungodly far. You're about to climb the shelves when you hear someone behind you. 

“I can help,” the man says. Of course he has to be drop dead gorgeous with honey brown hair and a worn sweater. 

“Thanks,” you say, trying not to fumble over yourself. 

“Oi Moony, they had your ice cream,” you hear from down the aisle, and to your surprise, you know that voice. 

“James?” you call peering over the shoulder of the man trying to hand you your granola. When you see the dark haired man next to James the pieces start to fall into place. There’s James next to what has to be Sirius and the man in front of you must be…

“Remus, I see you’ve met y/n,” James says walking to the two of you. “He must be putting the moves on you. He would just let us struggle.” James winks at you. Remus, on the other hand, is still reeling from your smile. It was like watching the way he feels when he sees James and Sirius played out right on your pretty features. 

Your almost star struck. It feels like meeting celebrities the way James talks about them. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say, smiling wide, hugging the granola to your chest. “James talks about you all the time.” It’s a funny feeling to have faces to add to all the stories you’ve heard before. 

“Funny, we could say the same thing,” Sirius says, giving James a look you don’t quite understand. 

“Sirius was starting to get jealous,” Remus jokes. 

“Yeah, of James,” Sirius says, winking at you. His flirtatious persona falters for a second when you laugh. He’s caught by the sound, and once it's over he already wants to hear it again. James was right, you're magic. “Who’d have thought we’d find an angel in the cereal aisle of all places.”

“Or the gym.” James smiles. 

They’re flirting with you. It feels nice you have to admit, but it’s starting to make your cheeks burn and your head spin.

“It’s been so lovely to meet you,” you say to them both, “but sadly I have to run.” It’s almost like they deflate. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” James asks, expectant. 

“Of course,” you smile, “don’t be late, it’s leg day.” He gives a dramatic groan, but you see his smile never falter. 

As you leave you hear James say, “I told you.” 

James is all smiles the next day, well he’s usually pretty smiley, but he seems particularly bright today. You got there early just to tease him but his expression winds you. 

“How are you?” James always asks like he truly wants to know. 

You set your shoulders, hands on your hips, “ready to crush you.” He answers with a hearty laugh and you fall into the same comfortable routine you’re used to. First is warm up squats. 

“Remus and Sirius were quite taken with you.” You try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It’s not really working. 

“Me? You’re the ones who could be models.” You hope your flustering comes across closer to being winded. You notice James has stopped and now he’s just standing at your side. “Flattery doesn’t get you out of squats James,” you say pointing a finger to the ground.

“Actually I wanted to ask you something,” he says, he looks shy for once, a hand pulling at the back of his neck. You feel your stomach swoop, but you’re not trying to get your hopes up. 

“Of course,” you say, feeling somewhat like a deer in headlights. 

“Well, we were wondering… I mean I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now, but now they’re really on me. Anyways,” his gaze meets yours, “would you like to go out sometime… with us?” 

“Like a date?” you ask wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “Only if you’d want to though.” You’ve never seen him actually look nervous before. It’s endearing really, charming even.

“Yes,” you say, you’re practically bouncing on your feet, newly energized. “I’d really like that.” 

James smiles wide, it’s a smile he wears with his whole face, crinkling eyes and dimpled cheeks. Just like that James is critiquing your form and things are back to normal, but really they probably just changed forever. 

Hogsmeade is bustling with Autumn. Leaves flood the sides of the streets from where they flutter off stray branches. It’s like a scene from the movies except you’re in it and the scene is yours. You could be floating for all you know. 

Sirius is just as charming as James said. The four of you come upon a wishing well, and Sirius declares that you have to toss it over your shoulder for the wish to come true. After four successful tosses he looks at you conspiratorially. “What’d you wish for?” He smiles at you with a tilt of his head like he thinks he could guess, and you feel a blush burning your cheeks. 

“She can’t tell you, Pads, it won’t come true,” Remus says, shaking his head as he falls into step behind you. Remus asks you about the book he recommended. Bashful, you confess you haven’t finished. He feigns shock but it’s short lived. 

“That’s okay, no spoilers then, for now.” He points a finger in warning. “I can’t make any promises for next time.” Next time, you really like the sound of next time. 

As the night marches forward and the weather grows colder you find yourselves in the three broomsticks, steaming butterbeer warming you from the inside out. Talking to them is borderline dizzying. You’ve never had such undivided attention. Remus listens to everything you say like he’s taking notes, and Sirius like he’s drinking you in, hanging off of everything you say. He has a sharpness to his eyes that would be intense if he wasn’t practically melting into James. James smiles like he has everything in the world.

[otterloreart]

Steps of creating a 3D model replica from scratch

trace photos of character from available and cleanest angles. attempt to get a 90 degree*, front and back, side profile and straight on of the face. save additional reference photos such as bottom of body, back, and various extra angles without tracing which may help reference later on.

*more on angles later, but trying to get a 90 degree from each side is the most realistic and practical option if you dont actually have the character you're copying

2. block out the body and head

and by block i mean, yeah, its made out of elaborate rectangles

4 aha, you thought I would hand sculpt those? no. no. I used the curve tool to add these swirls. And yes i exactly traced them over the drawings to match the original as best as possible. The end of the curve tool is flat by default so I added a few spheres to make the ends nice and round. (there is absolutely a way to make the ends of curves rounded but I did not feel like looking it up or messing with the settings)

this wasn't mirrored to the other side- I traced both sides of the body and the front from photos and sculpted the swirls for each side. I couldn't get a single photo of the swirls at the butt area so I just winged it.

6 I am struggling to not make Cha Cha look angry.

I feel like the eyes are basically traced off the original and yet she looks so much grumpier. maybe it just needs to be smoothed out?

I added a little definition to the area around the eyes and I do think it looks a little better. The more definition I add in this stage the better, because I prefer this to sculpting. However, if you're more adept at sculpting you would probably not make this as detailed.

7 Here she is after smoothing everything out in sculpt after remeshing, in both Eevee (left) and Cycles (middle/right). still trying to figure out how best to render things. For some reason her nose ended up lighter in cycles but i cant be bothered to fix that rn

On the previous step I made the elements of her face + ears mirrored but once I start sculpting I'm not using the mirror tool. In fact nothing ends up mirrored, even the back right foot is slightly shifted in position.

this is probably not even the final version, I think i might redo the smooth/sculpt part and fiddle with the underlying shapes (basically go back a step)

Cha Cha's face. is one of the most difficult things to sculpt. It is extremely difficult to understand the shape of the underlying sculpt because there aren't any photos of her with the eye paint removed. There are so few of her out there I don't think anyone would willingly remove the paint to make a custom or anything unless it was in truly awful condition, and I dont think that has ever happened.

I have saved dozens of references from a number of different sites- these pics here are from etsy, the above was from the wiki. Her eyes are different from every single other pony and pony and friends- they're so bulging, so round, the eyelashes are longer. It's wild.

I can only see all the things that are wrong with it.

It's basically impossible to get something like this 100% perfect unless you have like, a set of turnaround photos all from the same angle that you can match up to the camera. You can basically overlap references with the camera view but you will never know the exact angle so if you make edits from multiple angles like this you'll inevitably not match each angle and then have to go back and adjust the angles and then you're fiddling with it infinitely. That's why I usually go for the "trace 4 angles and make the rest up as you go along" method.

I don't want to spend _too_ long on every model I make- the Takara pony which took 6 months really shows how far down the rabbit hole I will go with something like this, and it's just not practical. But I think with a slight amount of fiddling I can match the reference a little better.

[rueclfer]

everything is embarrassing // izuku midoriya

when he doesn't know how to take control of his life

a/n: 6k+ words lmao i feel crazzzzzy ok bye

19-year-old izuku doesn't have the privilege of hopping around college parties on the weekends or enjoy the “college experience” like his friends do.

he can barely catch a break to breathe.

monday through friday he's in classes from 8:00am to 4:00pm, and for more than half of the week from 6:00pm to 12:00am, he's working at the campus library- simultaneously shelving returns, organizing files, and scrambling to finish his homework. on the weekends, he'll be at his part time job at the local cafe just down the street from his dorm building.

it hasn't been an easy semester for izuku. he's a year behind his friends and he wants nothing more than to be able to walk across that stage with them by the end of their fourth year, but nothing comes easy when you’ve been out of school for a year, no money, have a scholarship on the line, and a single mother at home to make proud.

he's watching the time go by. his eyes darting back and forth between the ticking needle on the analog clock and you sitting at your usual table with your headphones on, attention glued to your textbook, and the tapping of your pencil growing louder by the second.

occasionally, he'd let himself clock out and lock up about 5-10 minutes early if there was no one lingering around on his floor, and all of the day's work had been completed. no one stays as late in the library as you do. it annoys him. 

5-10 minutes is crucial to izuku.

he could get a head-start on his commute back to his dorm. if he walks quickly enough, he'd be back before 12:15am, be ready for bed by 12:35am, and he'd be able to get at least 6 hours of sleep.

if he's lucky.

but you. you were always there until the very last minute- sometimes even past closing.

it's 12:05am. how could anyone be so careless to not keep an eye on the time? can’t you see that it’s only you two left on this floor? did you not hear the 10 minute closing warning on the intercom?

if he wasn't running on a couple hour of sleep, a poor excuse for dinner, and 6 hours worth of brain numbing work, he wouldn't have the nerves to approach you so casually. he'd be replaying what he wanted to say in his head, stumbling over his words, and hope you wouldn't take offense to it.

"the library's closed." he bluntly says, still maintaining a few feet of distance.

you don't hear him or notice his presence at all. you're lost in that textbook and your mind is fumbling through these terms and definitions staring back at you.

izuku blinks once. then twice.

"hey." he starts again, taking a step closer and setting a hand down on the table right above your textbook.

you look up and catch the library worker’s tired eyes. your gaze immediately flickers to the analog clock hung on the wall past his shoulder.

12:12am

“oh shit!” you exclaim, ripping off your headphones. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i lost track of time.”

you slam your textbook shut, rubbing your eyes against the back of your hand. how long had you been at it like this? studying the hours away in your own corner of the library?

“yeah.” izuku breathily chuckles, a sense of relief washing over him as he watches you haphazardly shove your books and papers in your bag. “sorry, i hate to interrupt a good study session, but i’m kinda tired, and if i stay here for another minute, the shelves might start talking to me.”

“god, don’t be sorry. i get it.” you laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “i’m here, like, everyday. i’m sure everyone who works here is sick of me by now.”.

“yeah, me too.” he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as you two make your way towards the exit. “here everyday, that is.” he quips, nervously running a hand through his tousled hair.

“look at us, so scholarly.” your voice dripping in sarcasm. you turn your head over your shoulder to meet his eye. “paying so much money for this university to drain us of all joy in life.”

“well, i’m on a scholarship.” izuku mutters. “so i guess i still have some joy left?

“yeah? well that’s actually even worse.” 

“is it?” he cocks an eyebrow.

“you have much more to lose.”

-

the next time you two see each other, he’s knelt over an open filing cabinet, digging through dividers for some sort of paperwork. 

since that night you’ve met, university life has felt a bit less lonely- something about taking a 20 minute walk to your dorm buildings, which happens to be right next to each other, complaining about how terrible of time you’re having adjusting to university life really brings people together.

“hey.” you cough.

izuku looks up to see you sporting a coffee cup in each hand.

“oh. it’s you. hey.”

you hold one out to him, waiting for him to take it, but all he does is give you a blank stare as his eyes flicker between your own and the cup outreached towards him.

“take it.” you chuckle. “i brought it for you. you looked like shit last time i saw you, so...”

the corners of his mouth quirks up into a smile, gingerly accepting the hot cup of coffee.

“...so this is your apology for staying past closing the other night?” he teases.

“oh definitely not.” you scoff. “i’ll be doing it again tonight too, don’t you worry.”

he nods his head, taking a deep swig of the bittersweet coffee. “see you at midnight, then.”

“see you at midnight.” you confirm, sending him a smile as you pull your headphones over your ear and head towards the back of the library where your designated table was waiting for you.

-

at 21-years-old, izuku goes to his first house party. it takes you about a week to convince him to give you one of his saturday nights that he’d usually reserve for studying or catching up on sleep.

“please.” you beg once more. “what are you going to say to your future students? how are you going to say you had the college experience without going to a single party?”

“with a degree?” he chuckles, slinging a rag over his shoulder. “you’re also distracting me. i’m on the clock, and my boss can come back anytime, you know.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes. “if toshinori was here, he’d be telling you to put your big boy pants on and get drunk with his favorite customer tonight. and if you agreed the first time i asked, i wouldn’t have to follow you to your second place of employment.”

“i’m sorry, i can’t. maybe next time?”

“please, izuku, just one party. i’ll help you get ready after your shift. we’ll leave anytime you want, but i can guarantee you’ll have so much fun. i promise i’ll never ask you again if you really do end up hating it.”

he can imagine it now- if someone asked him about his college experience, he wouldn’t mention the parties, the professors, or the time spent away from home. he’d talk about you.

izuku has a hard time balancing his life between keeping up with the workload and trying to not let his days blend into a muddy gray, but you had perfectly fit somewhere in between all of the chaos like a fresh breath of air.

izuku was tired, and you were a shot of espresso. how can he say no to you?

“fine.” he sighs in defeat, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards you. “but i can’t be out that late, okay? i have to be back here in the morning.”

-

“what the fuck happened?” you slam the door shut behind you, muffling out chatter of the crowd and heavy bass shaking through the walls. 

you twist a wad of toilet paper into a cone before plugging the stream of blood gushing from his nose.

“sorry, sorry, sorry!” he repeats, holding the toilet paper in place with a bewildered look in his eyes. 

“i don’t know what happened,” he starts in a nasally tone “maybe it’s all the smoke in the air or something. i heard that second hand smoke can be really drying for your nasal passages, especially if there’s not a lot of ventilation like in this apartment, i also haven’t been drinking a lot of water today and-”

“aht!” you interrupt, nudging him over with your elbow to rinse your hands off from the bloody residue. “my theory is that your body is shutting down on itself from the lack of proper sleep and nutrition. thoughts?”

izuku pouts. “stop it. i had a protein shake before we came, remember?”

“of course, how could i forget about the most rancid concoction you managed to blend together?” you mutter, wetting a wad of toilet paper and dabbing away the dried blood that had fallen onto his chin and t-shirt.

he cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up the red solo cup containing a questionable blue liquid that you shoved in his hands to hold when his nose started dripping blood. 

“wow, since when were you a chem major? since you know so much about ‘rancid concoctions,’ huh?” he deadpans.

“izuku midoriya, are you getting sassy with me?” you scoff, grabbing the cup back from his hands.

“maybe i am.” he presses his lips together to suppress a smirk. “or maybe i’m just making an observation.”

izuku had finally started learning how to bite back. somewhere within the last year, the skittish library worker who you enjoyed pestering had grown the confidence to return your relentless teasing.

you weren’t sure how to take it- how giddy it made you feel and how much more of it you wanted to draw out of him.

to him, it was all a front. he perfected the line delivery with ease, but at the cost of his chest tightening and stomach turning over the sight of your amused smile and lit up eyes. this made him anxious.

you have much more to lose

everytime he sees you, he’s reminded of your very first conversation together when you were first years. he’s acutely aware of how much he has to lose, but if there’s one thing izuku could not bear to risk losing during the worst few years of his life, it was you.

“uh, why are you looking at me like that?” he nervously chuckles, his ears growing hot from trailing your eyes as they glaze over his face.

“i love you.” you smile, the alcohol finally making its way to your head. “a lot.”

izuku’s breathing stops for a moment. his eyes widen, and the nervous giggles continue pouring out as his facade from minutes earlier crumbles completely.

“why are you laughing?” you chuckle, taking a sip from your cup, choking back a grimace.

“i…i don’t know.” he bites his bottom lip, suddenly aware of his nervous habit. “you’re just being a silly drunk right now."

“what? because i said i love you?” you cock your head with a lazy smile “the L-word got your panties in a twist?”

“don’t know what you mean.” he turns his attention back to the mirror, subtly swiping his sweaty palms on his thighs before unplugging the tissue from his nose. 

for the first time in his life, he’s simultaneously grateful and regretful for alcohol. grateful for the red sheen over his face to mask his blush. regretful for the carelessness it caused you with your words. 

he doesn’t have the time or energy to entertain it. that is the one thing he’s certain of. he wouldn’t be good for you- wouldn’t give you the time and attention you deserved. he loves you too. he loves you enough to not say it back.

“it stopped bleeding. i think i’ll have to leave soon, so let’s get back out there, yeah? i’ll make you a better drink, too.”

he shoots you a forced grin before grabbing you by the shoulders and ushering you two back to the party where you reunite with your roommates and mutual friends. you leave your drink in the bathroom.

-

on the day izuku turns 22-years-old, he finds out that he’s on track to graduate with you and his friends. after stepping out for a quick phone call with his academic advisor, he drunkenly cries into your shoulder mid-birthday party (that his boss at the cafe forced him to take the time off to have).

all of the hard work and courses he packed on during his first two years at university finally paid off. though, that doesn't mean he’s gotten any easier on himself.

he quits his job at the library and starts student teaching part time at the local middle school for college credit.

you barely see him now-a-days. more often than not, your texts go unanswered.

izuku is a busy guy.

you miss him. you didn't realize how lonely it felt to walk back to your dorm from the library at midnight by yourself- you haven't felt this way for a while, not since you met izuku. 

you wished he made it easier for you. your feelings for him never subsides, but instead grows into a longing ache. it’ll be like this until graduation. the occasional text message, running into each other in the halls with quick hello and goodbye, coming into his weekend job just to see him for a few reassuring moments- you know you both needed it.

he talks about you to his students a lot- “my best friend,” “someone important to me,” “my support system,” and etc. he’s always referring to you.

he missed seeing you all the time, but it’s all been so hectic for him he hates to admit that you barely cross his mind when he’s in the midst of a busy day. on top of his regular grueling school work, he has to lesson-plan for the days he’s teaching, grade papers, as well as check in with his professors and mentors.

he doesn’t know how he does it.

working in that library was excruciating, but he missed nothing more than the last half hour of his shifts where it’d just be you two, sending shy glances at one another until it hit midnight. he doesn’t even mind the rest of the 6 hour shift where you’re just sitting in the same spot that you always gravitate towards, head in the textbook for him to look up at every now and then.

you tell him you love him for the second time at the end of your graduation party when all of the guests have cleared out of your half empty apartment.

“what?” his eyes go wide, exactly like they did a year ago.

“i love you, izuku.” you ball the sides of your graduation gown, wrinkling the fabric in your hands.

you’re sober this time, which makes it infinitely more painful to say out loud.

his mouth gapes open as if he’s a fish gasping for water. he doesn’t know what to say.

“i have for years.” you fill in the silence, fidgeting with the silky material. “ever since you kicked me out of that fucking library, i think. i don’t know. maybe i’m being stupid, but i can’t help it. i love you, and i need you to know before… you know.”

it’s been three years, and you’ve waited until this night to pour it all out because you knew that in less than 24 hours, you’d be going your separate ways.

in a perfect situation, izuku would tell you that he feels the same. he’d run through an airport to stop you from leaving and beg you to stay with him. you wouldn’t have to go back home. you’d share an apartment. live in the city. start your entry jobs. you’d have time together.

“i’m sorry.” is all he says. “i’m sorry.” he repeats.

tears well in his eyes, and he grabs you by the shoulders to pull you into his chest.

“sheesh, you’re such a crybaby.” you choke out a half chuckle, your eyes running hot now. “don’t be sorry, okay? i get it. i know.”

your arms tightly wrap around izuku’s waist as you two silently sob into one another. his hand runs through your hair, stopping at the nape of your neck to pull you closer.

there’s something much more painful behind this confession to cry about. you’re leaving the city, and you have no reason to stay. for the first time in three years, izuku won’t be within arm’s reach and you’re left with the cold reality of navigating your future without your best friend by your side.

“you know, i..” he begins, pulling you back to look at your face, searching for the right words, or an answer. “it’s not that i don’t feel the same, okay?” 

his cheeks lightly dust over pink. it’s the first time he’s admitted that out loud.

“i know.” you sadly smile, your hand reaching up to wipe away the stray tears left on his cheeks. “we’ll be okay. we worked hard for this, izuku.”

izuku felt like throwing up. he had spent the last three years working himself into the ground with endless all-nighters, black coffees, and missed events to get everything he’s ever wanted for his future, so why does it feel like his world is slipping from between his fingers?

yes, he worked hard, but he wondered if it was all enough?

“i’m going to miss you.” he mutters, connecting your foreheads together. “i already do. you’re everything to me.”

“me more. i’ll miss you more.”

after that night, you don’t see izuku again for a long time. 

izuku jumps into his new position at the local high school in the same school district as the middle school he worked at during his last year of university. he feels a sense of relief everytime he walks into his school building- something that he couldn’t ever say during his years as a student.

you move back home and land an entry job at a startup tech company. it’s boring work, but at least it’s remote and your days don’t mesh into one- you made sure you would never have to go through that again.

you try to stay connected, but work is busy, and you’re both trying to figure out what life is supposed to look like post-grad. occasionally, you’ll send each other a meaningless “thinking of you” message, but you eventually lose contact after a couple of years of trying to plan visits and meet ups- there is just no time. there never was.

-

at 27-years-old, izuku is spending his late afternoon sitting in his empty classroom with one of his students. it’s half an hour past their scheduled parent-teacher conference time, and he’s wondering if he should just reschedule.

“are you sure your mom is coming? did you tell her the right time and date?” izuku sighs, resting his head on a propped elbow.

“duh. what kind of student do you think i am?” they scoff, glancing up at him from their phone.

“judging by your grades, i know exactly the kind of student you are.” he mumbles.

izuku’s trying to not panic, the kid clearly isn’t, but he’s wondering how far back this sets his schedule. he should be starting on the stack of papers to grade by now. he still needs to write out a lesson plan for tomorrow. maybe the kids deserve a movie day? maybe he deserves a movie day.

“don’t freak out.” izuku hears from outside of his door “you’re fine. it’s okay. seriously, chill the fuck out you weren’t interrupting anything, i needed a break anyways. i’m walking in right now. yeah, i’ll let you know how it goes.”

finally.

izuku straightens up, and tightens his tie. he whips open his laptop and pulls up the tabs of grades and assignments to discuss.

“i’m so sorry-” the voice falters at the end as it enters the classroom.

“don’t be, i was just-” izuku glances up from his screen and his throat suddenly closes shut.

5 years later, and the universe leads you back to one another. here. in his classroom.

“izuku midoriya?” you cough out.

for the first time in his life, he doesn’t like the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth. it’s hesitant. it sounds foreign. it makes him question himself for a moment. 

yes? that’s me, right? it’s me, izuku. your izuku.

“what are…uh.. you…here?” he stammers, unable to get the words out.

you take a step forward into the classroom. you could pass out at the sight of him. he still seemed as boyish as ever. maybe a bit broader, and taller, but his hair is still just as wild as it was in university. you can’t help but feel a twinge of insecurity as you wonder if you looked any different as well.

“uh…where’s mom?” your nephew glances back and forth between you two starstrucked at the sight of one another. “we have to look over my grades and stuff, you know.”

“right!” you exclaim. “your mom got caught up at work, so she asked me to come in.” you awkwardly shift in your position, your eyes never leaving izuku’s.

izuku’s face flares up in heat, snapping back into the present as his eyes flicker back towards his student.

“you know what? let’s reschedule that. you can go and i’ll see you tomorrow?” he quickly stands up, knocking over his chair and hitting his knee against his desk in the process.

“really?” they cock an eyebrow at the shift in behavior from the two adults in the room.

“yup! we’re running late and i have a meeting right now, so i’ll just email your mom to reschedule.” he forces a reassuring grin, making his way around his desk. “don’t forget to read over the syllabus to see what’s due, alright?”

“alright, i guess. see you tomorrow then, sensei” they shoot you a questioning side glance as they sling their backpack over their shoulder. “are you taking me home?”

“no.” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “uh, i have some errands to run before your mom gets back home, so you go on ahead i’ll see you at home.”

once your nephew leaves, unsuspecting of the thick line of tension running between his aunt and teacher, izuku quickly rushes over and shuts his door.

“whatareyoudoinghere?” the sentence leaves his mouth in an incoherent string of words. he grabs you by the shoulders and lets his eyes take in your face. every curve, every mark, every wrinkle, old and new.

you feel 19 again. you guess the urge to kiss izuku midoroya never leaves you, after all. 

“my sister just got a new job, so i’m living with her and helping her out with the kids while she adjusts.” you breathlessly stare at him. “i didn’t know you were still in the city.”

of course he’s still here- exactly where you left him after all these years. his grip on your shoulders tightens as a response. he’s scared that if he lets go, you’ll be gone for good, or at least for another 5 years.

“we should catch up.” you smile, grabbing onto his forearms as a warmth crawls up your next “when are you free? i mean, you’re probably really busy, but even a phone call-”

“tonight? how about tonight?” he blurts out. “we can go somewhere?”

izuku reassures himself that it’s fine. the kids can have a movie day, and he’ll spend that time grading papers and catching up on work. the only thing he needs is right in front of him.

seeing your face light up makes him feel nothing but nostalgic euphoria. he never wants to lose this feeling again.

“i’ll text you, then? you still have my number?”

he almost laughs in your face. your text conversation has been pinned to the top since the day you exchanged phone numbers.

“by heart.”

-

“tech? like you work in IT?” izuku’s face scrunches in disgust. he almost spits his drink out. “why the hell would you do that to yourself?”

“shut up!” you rub your face in your hands, snorting out a laugh. “it’s easy, i’m in a senior position, it pays well, and it’s remote. that’s all i care about for now.”

you two meet at a nearby bar. outside of his suit and tie, he looked much younger. he looks like the izuku you knew half a decade ago with his perpetual pink cheeks, slightly too large graphic tee, and red sneakers.

“so you’re now living with your sister… in the city.” he begins, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gleam. “for how long?”

“i’m not sure.” you shrug. “i’m still figuring it out, but my lease back home is up at the end of next month, so either way, i have to see what i want to do by then.”

“you should stay in the city.” the words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them.

“i mean- it’s just, you know, your sister is here, and her kids, and there’s more opportunities and stuff, and your work is remote anyways, and uh-” he stammers, words flowing out in an unstoppable stream.

“-and you’re here?” you tease.

his face flushes red.

“it is a possibility.” you sigh, shooting him a subtle smirk and saving him the embarrassment of coming up with a response. “i don’t know though. my sister wants me to stay too, but it’s a lot to think about.”

“i get it. my mom moved to the city to be near. it was hard for her.” he takes a sip of his drink. “not with me, though! she’s got a townhouse in the outskirts.” he quips.

you laugh. he definitely hasn't changed.

“speaking of, do you want to come back to my apartment? right now?” he shyly asks, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

“right now?” you look down and check the time displayed on your phone.

11:00pm.

“it’s a school night isn’t it?” you cock your head to the side. "i'm surprised you even wanted to meet up this late. thought i'd have to book office hours with you weeks in advance to catch up." you tease

izuku mentally curses at himself for being so forgetful, and so predictable. he doesn’t want this night with you to end, but that 7:00am alarm set for tomorrow morning is inching closer and closer.

“you’re right.” his confidence deflates. “i guess we should get going.”

you two pay your tab and make your way to the exit. you stand facing each other at the corner of the street, taking in each other’s presence once more.

there’s a faint buzzing in your ear from the lamppost hanging above you and your breaths come out in shallow puffs. you don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden. you wish you didn’t have to leave again.

“so, can we do this again? can i see you again?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“you think i’d get to see izuku midoriya from beyond the grave and let you get away? for the second time?”

he feels like he could cry right now, so he pulls you in for a hug instead. you haven’t changed at all- not in the ways that matter anyways. his hand falls against the nape of your neck as he presses his cheek against your forehead.

“i missed you.” he mutters into your hair.

“me more.”

before you go your separate ways, i love you sits at the tip of his tongue. he wants to tell you. to finally say back after all of these years, but it somehow doesn’t feel right- not yet at least.

-

a few weeks later, you find yourself sitting in one of izuku’s classroom desks. the top button of his shirt is undone, his sleeves rolled up, and the soft late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window bathes him in gold.

from over your laptop screen, you see izuku mumbling to himself as he reads through essays while twirling a red pen between his fingers. the look of concentration had been plastered to his face since you were students- dark furrowed brows, unblinking eyes, a twinge of anxiety, and tightly pressed lips.

“you’re staring.” he mutters in between his incoherent mumbles.

his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“no i’m not.” you shrug, suppressing a satisfied smile as your eyes return to your own screen.

“I think i’ve gotten pretty good at noticing after spending all those years with you in that library.” he returns the smile, leaning back in his seat. “you don’t stare often, but when you do, you stare loud.”

“says you.” you roll your eyes. “you don’t think i ever noticed the thousand glances every hour?”

his face scrunches in embarrassment. 

“not like i could help myself.” he mutters, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. 

“ditto.” you halfway close your laptop and rest your head on a propped elbow. “but you knew that.”

the air in the room thickens between you two. you’ve been itching to have a conversation with izuku about your last moments before you left the city 5 years ago, but there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up. you weren’t even sure if you should at all.

“i don’t think i ever noticed.”

“noticed what?”

“that you liked me.” he pressed his lips together, nervous to bring up the past. “like that at least. i didn’t have a clue before you took me to that party.”

“how could you?” you breathe out a chuckle. “you were drowning in your work and studies, there was no time to even sleep let alone have anything romantic.”

a beat of silence passes.

“sorry.” he mutters.

“don’t be.” you shrug. "i loved you enough for the both of us. you were my best friend, and i wouldn’t change anything. maybe i would’ve forced you to take more naps, though.” you chuckle.

he doesn’t like the past tense termage of this conversation. it makes him feel a bit nauseous thinking that he really did lose it all, even with you here in front of him.

“i told you i felt the same, didn’t i?”

“mmm.. i guess so.” you mutter. “but it’s different. it was a goodbye.”

“i’m sorry.” he says again, with a pout this time.

“stop that.” you launch your pen in his direction, bouncing off of the chalk board behind him. “i’m here now. you’re here. you’re still my best friend. everything’s the same, except we’re a little bit older and have 5 years to catch up on. isn’t that enough?”

you two danced around the conversation for a few more minutes before returning to your work in silence. there was no clear answer as to where your feelings for each other stand now, but he feels just as sick as he did the day of the grad party.

but isn’t that enough? to just have you here now?

on a saturday night in his apartment, just days before you have to go home and sort out your living situation, izuku tells you he loves you for the first time.

you’re staring at him, unsure if maybe you heard him wrong or if it was the television in the background.

“huh?” your mouth gapes open. “what’d you say?”

“i..i love you.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. “i love you, okay?”

for a split second, there’s a sequence of images that flash through his mind. his body would learn to wake up at 6:55am every morning despite his alarm being set for 7:00am. he sees you peacefully sleeping next to him, and he can’t bring himself to let that alarm go off and disturb you.

he’d start the coffee pot- enough for two, obviously. maybe he’d leave a nice note for you to start your day off with. maybe a grocery list if you’re up for the trip, but you’d insist that you go to the market together on the weekend. you’re very distracting, and he knows this, but you’d somehow always meet at the dining room table or his classroom to do work together. 

he’d come home to you softly singing in the kitchen while making dinner. every now and then, he’d surprise you with flowers when he comes home from work, but he’ll brush it off and say it’s “for the apartment” just out of pure nerves. movie nights. falling asleep on the couch together. waking up in the afternoon with a split second of panic- but it’s the weekend and he doesn’t have a class to get to. he’d see the sunlight pool against your face as you slowly wake up from your slumber with fluttering eyelashes. he’d kiss you in that unsuspecting moment. he’d say he loves you with every breath leaving his lungs. he’d always have time for you.

“izuku.” you sadly smile, turning over to the stove and extinguishing the flame. “you don’t have to do this, you know?”

his heart sinks to his stomach.

“i know- no it’s not like that.” he stammers. “it’s because.. i’m saying it because…”

he makes his way around the kitchen island to you, firmly gripping your shoulders. he wants to make sure you hear this from him properly. after all of these years.

“because i love you, and i think i alway have.” he bites his bottom lip. “and i think i always will, and you’re here, and i’m here, and i know it’s hard because i kind of really messed things up in university, but to be honest, i regret everything because yeah i love my job and i’m doing okay now, but i lost you for 5 years and thought i’d never get to see you again and i should've-”

he stops himself when he sees his reflection in your eyes. he’s doing it again- the rambling.

“sorry.” he mutters. “but do you…do you understand?” he almost pleads.

“i understand.” you nod your head, a long exhale following your reply.

for a moment, you’re 22 again, and the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over are no longer apologetic, but now hopeful.

you can’t help but pull him into a hug, running your hand up and down his back as he sniffs back his tears.

“always such a crybaby, izuku.” you muffle into his shoulder. “i love you, too. you know that.”

“i feel so stupid.” he chokes out. “5 years is so long, and i feel like i blacked out for the entirety of that time and now that you’re back, i’m alive and can't do it without you again.”

he pulls away, looking back at you with furrowed brows and tear stained cheeks.

“please stay in the city. please.” 

your eyes widen at the request- the same request you wished left his lips all those years ago.

“you want me to stay?”

“selfishly, yes.” he bites down on his bottom lip. “here. with me.”

you take a moment and let your eyes wander around the apartment. you eye the half cooked dinner on the stove, the pile of unopened mail sitting on the counter, the row of dead plants lining the living room window.

izuku follows your eyes. he knows you’d settle in nicely, almost like the final piece in a puzzle. he feels it in his gut. he also feels the panic bubbling in his stomach the longer your gaze lingers at the chaos behind him.

“is that too fast?” he breaks the silence. “sorry. i don’t mean to jump from ‘i love you’ to ‘move in with me’ in the same night.” he awkwardly laughs, releasing you from his grip. “uh, maybe we’ll talk more about that after dinner.”

his face burns into a bright red- snapping out of his love dazed state and back into the reality where he just confessed to his best friend on a random night in.

“maybe after dinner, you can give me a proper tour of the place?” 

for the first time in izuku's life, he feels content knowing that time passes and the world continues to turn.

with you, it feels a bit gentler.

with you, it's worth it.

-

bonus ssrryy i have to be indulgent lmao:

the first time izuku kisses you, you're on your way back from a late night outing from the bars with his coworkers where he introduces you as his partner for the first time.

"you sure you're okay?" he laughs as you rub your hand against the back of his neck from the passenger seat.

"super peachy, zuku." you hiccup, twirling a green curl between your fingers. "a few drinks got nothing on me."

izuku presses his lip into a wobbly smile.

from his peripheral, he feels your stare burning into his side profile, only making him more nervous by the second. he thinks about teasing you and calling it out for a moment, but he remains silent for the rest of the drive back home.

izuku parks the car, shutting off the engine and letting the overhead light dimly illuminated the space between you two.

he leans over to meet your eyes and rests his elbow over the center console, taking a second to silently debrief from the night's social outing.

"thanks for coming out with me." he whispers, reaching down and shyly interlocking his index finger with yours.

"i love a good excuse to drink." you laugh, leaning in and letting your foreheads connect.

izuku only had a single drink several hours ago, but he suddenly blacks out. with his other hands, he reaches up and tips your chin up and lock his lips with yours.

it takes you off guard, but you don't hesitate to reach up and rest your hand on the side of his neck.

when izuku pulls away, his breathing is heavy and face grows red. your finger remains interlocked.

"um. i love you." he coughs, briefly meeting your gaze before darting away. "uh, sorry i should have asked" he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"i love you, izuku midoriya." you say in a teasing tone, leaning further over the center console and into the driver's seat.

izuku leans away until his back hits the soft interior of the car door.

"uh, we should.. we should go in? right?" he starts, eyes widening as you inch closer.

you reach over and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into you.

"yeah, we should." you say before crashing your lips into his, feeling him accept the defeat with a nervous laugh as he lets his hands find the soft skin of your cheek and warmth of your neck.

[wemlygust]

The worst is when this happens with some fucking obscure piece of media that hits you like a train and changes your mind about something or affects the way you think in real life, and because it's super obscure absolutely none of your irl buddies have read it, and you know you won't be able to get any of them to read it either because it was marketed terribly, and even if they read it they might not even get it, or maybe they just won't be able to get past the flaws that it does admittedly have, and. Just. When you really really want to talk to someone else who has also read it and you can't, at least not in person, or maybe not even without hunting down some hyperspecific goodreads chat and messaging random strangers. Is this better or worse than being deeply moved by a thing, and knowing your irl friend/family/whatever would also be deeply moved by the thing, but being unable to persuade them to ever try the thing? /despair, distress, diatribe

Before someone asks, this book specifically comes to mind: The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer. This is a god-tier emotional rollercoaster of a scifi space epic. This book tore me the fuck up and put me back together again a little different. It demanded all my attention and time until I had finished it, and then I found myself thinking about it at random moments for at least a month afterwards. This book is terrifying and heartrending and wrings you out like a dishrag, and I will never regret reading it. It goes on the shelf with 2001: a Space Odyssey, and the like. I actually think it also has a lot of flaws, admittedly, but I just don't care a whit about all the flaws because god *damn* what an experience this one is.

But everything about the cover and the blurb makes this look straightforwardly like a YA gay romance novel. It's FUCKING NOT. For one, it could have very easily been written as an adult SFF instead of teen, with a simple character age change and nothing else changed. There are no love triangles or similar YA tropes here. Which is often enough the case with YA, but I'm mentioning it for the people who normally avoid YA because YA tropes. For two: although the characters are gay, and it's written by a gay man, and there's technically gay romance in it: that is so, so extremely not the point, at least not in the way the marketing implies. Absolutely do not pick this up because you want a cozy YA gay romance genre read. Or if you insist on doing so anyway, at least pretend it's instead a highly rated ao3 fic that also has a long list of concerning tags and an "author chose not to use archive warnings" notice on it, alright? This book WILL upset you. Like a lot. Repeatedly. Although it is also very worth it. It's really fucking maddening, the way they marketed this. The author was apparently happy with the cover, at least, per an author's note, but even so. Anyway. Yep. Great book. Can't get anyone to read it, can't find anyone who's already read it. :P alas

sometimes a piece of media just! grabs you by the thoat and says, "hey buddy! I'm gonna irrevocably alter your brain chemistry now! have fun with that!!"

and then you just ! gotta deal with that ! you guess !!

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB characters boyfriend HCs

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Written mid October as a way to make myself feel better. Might turn this into a series, if anyone is interested ^^

Characters: Satan, Paimon, Beelzebub, Gusion, Michael

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bike rides and bar dates - I can just imagine going for a drive through Gehenna's streets, tightly holding onto Satan so you don't fall off a the high speed (Just like Minhyeok when Juno drove him to school in chapter 6)

Okay, on the theme of bars: kinda funny but I imagne him holding his hard liquor much better than something with little-to-none alcohol

Lots of lovebites and hickeys

Despite stuggling to sleep normally, when you're with him, it's the exact opposite and whenever you cuddle, he's out within minutes

His love language is bullying

During his depressive episodes, you're the only one he'll let near him

NSFW HCs

That horn style might as well be called handlebars, bc you sure will be holding onto dear life ( joke stolen from Trixie Mattel)

He has a thing for when someone rides his boots

Kinda obvious one, but a lot of BDSM in the bedroom

If you're a monsterfucker, he wouldn't mind changing into his other form for you

    ༺☆༻

Shopping dates!!

If you wish to, your relationship can be fully off social media despite Pai practically living on them

Matching stuff!

Loves doing your makeup (even if you don't wear any)

Café dates!

Ultimatelly, you're their new photographer for their posts

Overall the vibe of your relationship really gives me the two best friends who also fuck vibes

Every night is a slumber party!

NSFW HCs

If you get periods, they'll make sure you have all the stuff in the world you might need

And if you require some special attention down there, they're more than excited to make you feel good

I can imagine a lot of roleplay with cute outfits for the both of you

    ༺☆༻

Even when you're not with each other, there's at least a fly following you around to make sure you're okay

His clones do prove useful for more than just sex - putting new fitted sheets onto your mattress? done and done!

Every date is in a new location you never even knew about

Despite his memory being shit, he'll remember all the important and small things: your favorite scent? favorite dish? flower? yep, all memorised or turned into a tattoo on his inner wrist!

Oh, speaking of tattoos... You two get a matching one to seal the deal on your relationship

Instead of proposal with a ring, Beel proposes with a piercing needle and giving you the choice of what he'll pierce (you can even pick multiple spots!)

NSFW HCs

Let's get the obvious out of the way: Yes, he loves eating you out so much he'd spend the next century between your legs

And yes, you can say goodbye to deodorants/perfumes

Surprisingly not into food play tho... If you look any more yummy, he might actually eat you :D

    ༺☆༻

Workaholic baby :(

Like seriously, you sometimes have to cleverly lure him away from his math problems

If you're a student, you've won the jackpot! He might not be an expert in your field, but he knows how to help you learn

Gaming nights with some insane hard puzzle games

A cute scenario: Gus taking off his glasses before leaning down to kiss you deeply

I already mentioned this in my post about confessing a crush to him, but he might neglect you a bit from being so into his work so make sure to sound off and let him know

NSFW HCs

Someone gets a bit hot and bothered after your study session together

Ooh! I absolutely can't forget a good ol' teacher/student roleplay

He's most likely originally from Gehenna bc of how horny he got from the thought of having a headache, so I HC that he'll come seek you out after getting one to fuck the life out of you

    ༺☆༻

His hair is 100% pure silk

Your relationship probably started with Mikey first seeing you and not being able to read you, so he decided to keep his remaining eye on you to see what's the story with you

Somehow ended up accidentally(?) falling for you

He's definitelly the most likely demon to get unhealthily obsessed with his s/o

A lot of attachment issues after loosing God and Lucifer

That mom friend for sure (even literally a mom - kinda makes me wonder how he'd react to all the lesser angels he made giving him Mother's day card)

One daydream plot i came up with is that if I were in Hell and Michael showed up, I'd just pretend to be fully delulu that he's into me, but isn't ready to tell me yet The whole "Aw, you came to see me? Does that mean...? that you're ready to confess to me...?" He'd just get disgusted and leave and then everybody claps

NSFW HCs

Kinda obvious, but he's iffy about sexual subjects at first

Still doesn't mean he hasn't thought a few times about breaking out of his chastity cage

Once you break down his restraints, he's maybe even freakier than some demons in Abaddon

Maybe there's a good reason God locked his angels up

Okay, hear me out: Michael x MC x Raphael (yes, death is almost guaranteed, but what a way to go!)

[sweetimpurity]

His Majesty Lord Sukuna...

wc: 3k His Majesty wants you for only himself...

a/n: this came out of nowhere, I was just thinking about him last night and then this happened. enjoy!! more sukuna in the future??

cw: breeding, prostitution, mentions of killing, it's Sukuna so...

His Majesty Lord Sukuna had taken a liking to you, much more than his actual concubines. You were dying in your village, selling your body to buy herbs for your ailing family. Anyone who did not live inside the palace walls was dying or sick or starving. You were determined to give a better life to your younger cousins and family members. 

That was until His Majesty leveled your village, killing almost everyone and tearing every structure down to the dirt. Killing his own people without a care. All for his plans of expansion, growing his reign over more lands and building his palace much larger. To show neighboring kingdoms that he was not even afraid to do anything necessary. It didn't matter killing a few hundred people to get the job done. 

Through the fire and smoke, you and a few others were captured. Brought to the palace to become part of the royal staff. Washing linens and cleaning. But at least you were finally safe for once in your life. 

Lord Sukuna saw you one day. You always seemed to get lost in space. Staring off as you washed sheets in the courtyard pools. 

"How old are you?" His gruff voice asked behind you. Making you flinch. You looked back only to toss whatever wet cloth you were working on, throwing yourself to the cobblestone and bowing down to him. The tip of your nose touching the granite. "Your highness..."

He's silent for a few moments. Standing in his death black robes, blood red trim. Staring down at you pitifully. A look of distain on his face. "I asked how old you are." 

You mumbled something down into the dirt. And he scoffed. 

"Look up at me when you speak, little one." 

"Twenty-two, my lord..." You shot up from the ground at his words. Kneeling on the stone and looking up at him for a moment, only to look down again, bowing your head. 

"You look younger..." He huffs. Glaring down at you. "You should eat more." 

"Yes, thank you, my lord." You just nod. Any word he says to you, you thank him for even looking your way. That's the lesson you've learned living in the palace thus far. 

"Get back to work." He says roughly, hands behind his back as he studies you getting back to the washing before walking off. 

That night, some palace guards came into the servant quarters. Demanding you come out and face them. The other girls and workers tried to defend you, ask what they wanted from you. For they knew how ruthless His Majesty could be for no reason at all. 

But they couldn't stop the guards from taking you. Pulling you out of your quarters and down the corridors. A pit in your stomach at the thought of what might happen to you. They dragged you down the halls to a room. Dark inside at first but then as it all comes into view in the candlelight, you see this is His Majesty's sitting room. Looking down at the rugs and cushions laid out on the floor. Candles, fabrics and gold glinting. And then him. Sitting at the table on the floor. 

"Come here." 

You gulp at his tone, the guards pushing you into the room. You have no choice but to obey. You don't want to run the risk of upsetting him. Quickly, you walk to where he’s sitting, your head bowed. 

“Sit.” 

He says softly. His voice still gruff as ever. You instantly obey, kneeling down at the table. Your shins in the plush expensive cushions set out on the floor. Your head still bowed in reverence. Is he upset about you being distracted earlier while washing? Was there something wrong about the way you spoke to him earlier? What could this be about? Your stomach is in knots thinking about it. 

“Eat.” He says. Confusing you. The clang of porcelain and he pulls the lid off of a steaming pot on the table. Noodles and what looks like steak, in broth with fresh green onion. All things you haven’t had since… ever. Your eyes flick up to him for a moment. Catching his eye and instantly looking down again. Your stomach growling at the delicious smell. 

He pushes the pot closer to you. Silently. Crossing his arms and frowning at you. Expecting you to follow his command. So you do. Almost ravenously. Because you’re so hungry. Taking the porcelain spoon and chopsticks, lifting the steaming salty noodles to your lips and eating. It’s delicious. The kind of meal that would be prepared for His Majesty himself. But why is he giving you this?

Your hand trembles slightly as you eat. Because he’s being so silent. Just watching you. Minutes go by, lots of them. And he’s just watching you with a hard glare. Staring as you wolf down the rest of the meal, even drinking down the broth. The hearty food satiating your hunger. A hunger that seems to have lasted your whole life until now. And once you're done, you set everything down on the wooden tabletop. Your hands go to your lap, looking down again. 

“Very good. I expect you here tomorrow night. Same time.” He says simply. And you nod. Your mind is going crazy. What is going on? All you’ve heard all your life is of his ruthless murder streak. 

“Now, go to sleep, little one.” 

“Yes my lord, thank you, my lord.” You mumble, nodding your head and standing up. Bowing once more before turning. The guards receive you outside the door and escort you back to the servant quarters. You slept that night with a full belly and head full of questions. 

For the next few weeks, you show up there every night. Eating the meal His Majesty had the staff prepare for you to eat. High protein and something with bone broth for your health. He watched you eat it down. Always in silence. Making sure you consume every drop. 

Over this time, you’ve become quite comfortable in his presence. And you feel much stronger all the time. More energy and in higher spirits. From the healthy meals you're now receiving. Even though he doesn’t speak to you or ask you questions. You no longer tremble or shake. And he knows, of course, he observes every minute detail about you. 

Tonight, you’ve come and the guards let you in. But this time His Majesty is not there. Instead the old ladies of his service are gathered there. All with kind expressions. They encourage you to eat and enjoy. And you do, knowing it’s what your Lord would want. You can’t help but miss his presence. Even if it’s always silent. 

When you finish eating, the ladies aid you in taking off your servant garb. Bathing you in warm water and oils. Their hands are careful and gentle in washing you. Every nook and cranny. You can’t remember ever feeling so clean before. You don’t dare ask any questions. As it seems you’re not supposed to have the answer. The ladies bring you to another room. Dark when you enter and pushing through red draped fabric to the inside. Candlelight. His Majesty’s private quarters.

Your heart pounds. Like your heart knows what’s about to happen, your body too. But you’re having trouble wrapping your head around it. You walk forward, looking at the sharp swords on the wall, a map of the kingdom detailed on animal hide, gazing around at the place in wonder and awe. Pulling tight the silk robe the ladies gave you. The expensive fabric slipping over your fresh clean skin. 

“How are you feeling?” His deep voice sounds behind you. He was already in here, watching you. You jerk around to look at him, bowing your head to not meet his eye without his permission. His question registering in your mind. “Very well… clean, my lord, thank you.” 

His brow furrows watching your body language. He thought he was making progress with you all this time. You had seemed comfortable, relaxed even, over the past few weeks he’d been feeding you so well, sitting with you. 

“Look at me.” 

He says it and your heart pounds. Looking up at him and wanting to be obedient. His dark eyes glaring down at you. The dark sharp markings decorating his face, it’s all so distracting. 

“Don’t look away from me again.” He says slowly. Almost angry. He can’t stand the way you seem afraid of him. “Yes, your highness…” You hum, looking up at him and fighting the urge to bow to him as always. 

“You smell lovely…” He hums, taking a step forward. His sensitive nose picking up the oils and soaps. All scents he picked specifically. Ones that he wanted to smell on you. “Thank you, my lord.” 

You try to hold back the gasp when he leans forward, his face dipping into your neck and inhaling. You stand still as the marble columns that hold this palace standing. Feeling his nose and his lips running over your skin. “Do you know why you’re here?” He whispers next to your ear. 

“N-no, my lord.” You hum, finding your voice after choking on it. Even though you’re sure you know now what’s about to happen. Can he hear your heart beating?

One of his big hands reaches up, under the material of your robe and gently coaxes your hand away, letting the fabric fall open. His hand running up over your belly. The belly he’s happy to feel, to know you’re well fed and stronger than you were before. Soft and squishy and warm, perfect to grow his heir. 

His hand runs over your hip to your ass. Squeezing the flesh in his hand. Pulling his head back to look in your eyes. Both hands running under your robe now and making you shiver. 

“I know you are not a virgin…” He hums. Your cheeks flushing hot as his words. Swallowing thickly. Feeling a sense of guilt and dread. That you’ve disappointed him, that he’s upset. He speaks again before you can.

“But I will be the last man to touch you… to take you. You will never lay with another man again.”

You look up in his eyes. Stunned to silence at his words and unsure of what to say. What to think. His words came almost as a warning. 

“Someone touches you, I will kill them… and if I find you’ve been tainted by another man’s seed… I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” He warns, his hands running up your back and eyes piercing into your soul. The King of Curses will not be denied or disobeyed. 

“Yes, my lord. I understand…” You hum. A strange sort of flurry of feelings in your gut. And his arms wrap around you, lifting you against his chest and pushing you back to his bed. He lifts you up, crawling over the blankets and linens and furs scattered across the mattress. His hands are quick to rip your robe to shreds. Pulling you free and naked and pressing his body down onto you. It’s now you realize he’s bare too. Watching him pull his robe off, the black fabric in contrast to his skin and the black markings on him. 

He reaches back to a small tray beside the bed. Grabbing a jade jar with a top, pulling it out with a clink and tilting the bottle over. Your eyes wide, holding your breath as a chilly liquid pours from the bottle’s lip, dribbling down your cunt. Running down every crevice, collecting at your core. His thick fingers coming to rub the substance up and down, working some into you, prodding your entrance and testing how tight you are. Very tight. 

“M-my lord…” You sigh, thighs wanting to close but he forces them wide open with little force, rubbing his fingers up and down your cunt, beating and pulsing for him. No other experience you’ve had has been like this before. In the village, you were treated like an object for men’s desires. All you cared about was the money as it would decide whether your family would eat that night or not. 

“S-s-ah!…” You gasp, squirming over the blankets and he’s licking his lips at the sight. The sounds that escape you. He leans down, rubbing his fingers over your bundle of nerves, stimulating your clitoris. Pressing his lips to your sternum and licking into your skin, drawing kisses up to your neck and burying his face in there. He’s hard for your sweet cunt. The smell of the oils on your skin is dizzying. Rubbing his cock against your thigh as he fingers you, making your juices and the lubrication oil spill out onto the sheets. 

“Oh, my lord…” You moan, a mess and tingling. No one’s ever been so slow and gentle, or so skilled. It’s like everywhere he touches, a fire ignites, burning through to your core. A foreign buzz in your loins. Something you’ve never felt before. 

“You’re beautiful… so little… so pretty…” He huffs, lifting off of you and kneeling between your legs, pulling his fingers from your cunt and instead rubbing the oil along his shaft. Looking down at you through his long dark lashes. He’s enormous, his hulking form towering over you and slotted between your trembling thighs. You’re wide eyed looking down at his cock. The tip huge and red, needy, veins down to the black markings at his base. How will that ever fit? It’s the biggest you’ve ever seen. 

“M-my lord…” You whisper, your hands going to his chest as he lowers over you again. Nose to nose with him, feeling him nudge at your entrance. A dread welling up in your chest. 

“Shhh… I will take care of you… relax.” He hums, brushing some hair off your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. Your first kiss. That’s definitely a first. None of the men who paid you for sex ever kissed you. Your worries dissolve into mush, kissing him back and accepting his tongue into your mouth. Gasping against his lips when they part, his tongue, his sharp canines, his lips, the growl at the back of his throat. Hot blood rising in your cheeks.

He pushes into you, slipping in easily from the oil and your slick. A hitch in your breath when he starts to stretch you out on him, slipping in little by little. But he keeps a hand cupping your cheek, kissing you to soothe you and keep you hazy. Until he’s pushing all the way to the hilt, fully sheathed inside you. 

“M-m hah-” You gasp, head throwing back from the pressure and burn. 

“Relax yourself, little one… I will not hurt you…” He whispers, holding your cheek again and finding your eyes as he pulls back, thrusting into you again slowly. “Ah!” You whimper, needing to get used to the size of him, needing to adjust. He watches your expression, another thrust into you and then another. Slow and deep to help you. And soon he’s slipping in easily, like you were made for him. Holding back growls from how good you feel wrapped around him. Kissing your cheeks and burying his face in your neck as he works up a rhythm. Your fingers meekly wrapped over his broad shoulders and smothered by his size and weight on top of you. Taking him over and over. And as the pain subsides, it’s replaced by a pleasure you’ve never felt before. To be filled with him, the slick sounds of his cock filling your cunt. It’s all so overwhelming. 

He continues until you can’t help gushing on his cock. Multiple orgasms taking over you. All so brand new. You didn’t know the passions of the flesh could feel so good. At least not for the woman. But Lord Sukuna has not yet spilled his seed and you’ve cried in glorious climax on his cock five times yet. 

“Your Majesty!” You whine, head thrown back over the pillows, your back arching. Shaking legs wrapped around his waist. Scratches from your fingernails reddened in his skin. As he pounds into you, holding your wrists in his gasp and pulling back for leverage. “Your Majesty!” You cry. 

“Say my name, sweetness…” He huffs, out of breath, a big hand wrapping around your throat to make you look at him. Not squeezing, just holding, caressing almost. “S-s… my lord…” You hesitate. 

“Say it. Oh you’re mine…” He growls. Pounding into you hard, like an animal, making you scream and cry out, sprawling over the blankets. “You’re mine!” 

“You’ll be my wife.” His voice is a growl, his hand going to the side of your head, tangling in your hair and making you look in his eyes. Pumping into you so fast and hard, it almost hurts, he can’t help himself.

“You will bear me a son.” He snarls, pressing his nose into your cheek and his chest pushing you down into the blankets. “And no one but I will touch you again.” 

“Yes, my lord!” You sob, holding onto him for dear life. On the verge of your sixth orgasm. And you can feel him pulsing inside you. 

“Say my name! Say yes Lord Sukuna!” He commands, looking down in your eyes now, needing to hear the words. “Yes, Lord S-Sukuna!” You cry. And a switch flips, gasping and arching into him, clenching down on him so hard he’s seeing white. “NgHhhh!” You cry and gasp, screaming for all the palace to hear. 

“Sukuna! Oh yes Your Highness! S-Sukuna-a-aaa!” 

He laughs darkly, smiling wolfishly down at you falling apart and screaming his name like a little lamb lost in the woods. You’ll be all he needs. 

With a few more powerful thrusts, he’s spilling inside. Plunging deep inside you, making sure not to waste a drop of his royal seed. Coating your womb white and keeping you plugged up so it sticks. His breath over your face, his hands, his lips in kisses to your skin. Hearing you come down from the high, feeling you tremble around him. No one will have you but him. And you’ll never be far from his side as long as you live. 

[iihandsiiheavn]

ʚïɞ "next door" LN4

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more papaya!

✧₊⁺ lando norris x aurora jones (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ wc: 2,1k. ⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: hurt/confort, angst.

summary: when aurora hears something breaking in the apartment next door and just can't think of letting lando get hurt.

warnings: soft!lando, mclaren strategy trigger, description of an anxiety attack, pretty much platonic, author with no ability to end oneshots, small injury description.

Aurora heard the elevator open. The British accent talking on the phone, the angsty conversation, and the door beside hers taking too long to swing open but never closing.

She took a few minutes. Had some tea, washed her dishes, and then… she was standing by her own door, wondering if she should knock and check on her neighbor.

Lando Norris. Of course, she knew the man; a Formula One athlete, probably the best news for the sport in years.

And she knew the pressure that came with the glory. They had spent some time together during the few years she had been living in the building. Quick talks in the elevator, in the parking lot while he helped her with groceries —every now and then, they met, and Aurora had grown affectionate towards the guy.

So it's no doubt she's worried. She’s on the internet, of course she saw everything around his name, and of course, it feels weird.

Someone can be a top athlete in a sport that only twenty people in the whole world get to compete in, and there's still a way to be put down.

Then she hears something breaking —something like glass against her own wall, the one they share. It's instinctual; one second she's wondering, and the next she's outside her apartment, finding his door half open and hesitating.

Maybe she shouldn't get involved. It could have been anything.

"YOU'RE TOO DUMB!"

Alright, she's in.

"Hey, Lando? I heard something and thought I should..."

"Leave." It's heartbreaking — the voice full of agony and the obvious crying, trying to stay low. She still can't see him.

"Yeah- Sure. Sure. Can I... Can I just make sure you're okay? I heard something breaking. Are you alright?"

"No."

Lando closes his eyes as the back of his head hits the wall, a little stronger than he intended. Lately, too many things are hitting harder than they should, and now he sounds like an angry child.

He just can't lie. No, he's not okay, not fine. His hands are bleeding from the broken glass, and his whole body burns — it feels like too much.

Oscar has to work towards his points. There was a whole two-hour meeting about how the Formula One championship might work for the year ahead, and it felt like a knife twisting inside his muscles.

How come he can't manage to do things by himself? How does his whole team need to set everything up for him? Isn't he capable?

And everyone talks. His own friend and rival is around, saying that Lando is not the first driver. Everything is simply working against him, and the pressure is up. It shouldn't be that way.

"Where are you? I'm coming in, okay? I'm sorry, I can't help it."

He recalls the talk they had once in the elevator, a late-night conversation when he just went to the lobby to grab his food delivery and she was coming home from work. The girl is a doctor, or on her way to becoming one — he can't remember everything right now.

So for once, he feels like giving in. Maybe he could use some help, and Aurora is kind of a proper person to do it. Professionally, of course, and then... she's not so close to him. Just enough to understand what's happening but not enough to judge him or treat him differently after he lets his guard down.

"Hey... Hey, Lando." She has the sweetest voice, the sweetest approach. Doesn't fully walk towards him, doesn't get too defensive. God, he needed this. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone, or... do something? You're hurt. I can see blood."

"No, don't call anyone. I'm gonna be okay."

In a hurried need to show everything is fine, he tries drying his bloody hands on his pants, but it only hurts more and he can't keep the pained expression or the small whimper from escaping his lips. Great thing Aurora also can't keep herself.

She takes a towel from the counter, kneeling in front of him as he tries to hide his hands.

There's something about letting people see you're hurt. Lando hates that. In every way possible.

"It's okay, it's fine. Let me just clean that for you, alright? Let me take care of that."

Nothing that will ever come out of his mouth, but yeah. How that boy wanted to be taken care of. It feels like life has only been hitting and bruising him, and no one even wipes it clean.

He really wants to let his guard down, even if it's just for a moment.

"It's just... just a cut," he mouths, hands out and fingers pressed, like it would hurt to move. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard something and got worried."

Aurora's soft hands touch his calloused ones, ready to wrap the towel around them, right before she sees a small piece of something that looks like porcelain.

"You have something stuck in your skin; we gotta take it out. " she warns. "It will hurt a bit, okay? But I need to take it out to stop the bleeding."

"It's... it's okay. You don't need to do anything for me. I can do it by myself."

"Yeah, of course you can. I just want to help. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Aurora doesn't wait much, just as if she's in a professional procedure. It’s not in much need of a hurry, but usually, she just narrates what she's doing next and does it. It's more about the patient's headspace than the hurt itself. Not much explanation, no time to let the patient think.

So the blue piece of porcelain is out of Lando's skin in seconds, thrown into the sink before she actually wraps the towel around the hand that bleeds the most.

"That was fast." It comes out with a soft moan from the boy's lips, eyes closed with the tears stuck and everything.

His hands looked ugly, but his face... there was something going on, and Aurora really wanted to know, to do whatever about it.

"It was a small piece," she says, instinctively touching his face and cleaning the tears now rolling down. "You're sure you don't want me to call anyone? You don't seem like you should be alone right now."

"No, it's okay."

In fact, there isn't much that is "okay." The apartment is a mess, broken glass, many things out of place, dark and in disarray. Aurora is good with the signs; she is great at taking care of people and could do it with her eyes closed.

Lando just needed to be taken care of.

"Would you let me... help you out? You don't need to stay on the floor." Naturally, her fingers lace around his face, a soft touch that almost made him lean into it. "Hm? What do you think?"

His brain can't fight much anymore; so when he nods and she helps him up, when she guides him through the apartment to make sure he's not stepping on glass, when she puts him on the couch and stands in front of him, it does feel a little better.

Lando has to be in control most of the time. He is the first driver for one of the most traditional teams in motorsports, drives a Formula One car. There are a whole lot of people working towards it, but at the end of the day, he's driving solo. It depends on him. No matter what Zak says on the radio, or what the team puts together in the meetings.

Once he's behind the wheel, it's on him. To make the right decision, to keep up.

Having someone else just step up and be there is pretty new.

"I... hm... thank you, Aurora. Thank you, truly. You don't need to stay here if you don't want to." At this point, the tone in his voice almost says otherwise.

"I want to." Aurora lets out.

Lando would laugh in any other situation. She is straightforward; he noticed that from their previous few talks, and she's like that with everything in life. No shame, no worry. He even thought about how she'd get along well in a conversation with his old coworker and friend, Daniel Ricciardo.

"I really won't be able to settle down if I leave you here by yourself, so... Yes. If you tell me I can stay..." Lando notices her tone, low and calm.

She's cautious, her posture so relaxed yet so serious. She does this for a living, and he knows that, but right now, it feels like she's doing it just for him. It's comforting to think of it that way.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. I didn't eat very well today and my head is spinning a bit. I fucked up."

Coming back to his senses, Lando tries to make things better. She came into his apartment because he was cursing himself, finding him curled up and bleeding in the kitchen. So, yes, things do need to get better.

"It's completely fine, it happens. You need to eat something and drink some water. I can grab some painkillers for you. Oh, and you need to stretch your legs, tilt your head up a bit, and... regulate your breathing. Can you do that for me? You're still a bit off."

He didn't think he'd be able to keep up with all these words, but he did. Of course, he's still a bit off — his heart is still racing and his hands can't stay still.

And even with all of that, he's a lot calmer now. Despite the terrible day at work, the comments he read on social media at lunchtime, with everyone talking down on him and all the jokes about him.

Oh, it is hard to breathe.

"Hey, Lando. You're okay, huh? You just need to take a big breath for me."

His response is a soft, low whimper when she gently touches his chin and raises his head just enough, following procedure as if she's at work but being extra gentle. Her thumb caresses his skin.

"C'mon, in through your nose, out through your mouth. We're not in a rush; you can take your time," she reassures, now close enough so both her hands can touch him, now caressing his hair. "I know you're used to the speed and everything... Oh! I heard you coming in last week at full speed! I was scared!"

She studied for this. Most people can manage a better way out of a crisis when being distracted.

"I had to stream." he says, not planning for it to come out as a whisper, but it did.

"I forget you do it all." Aurora chuckles, taking her hands away from him as soon as it feels comfortable enough.

Lando moans in dislike, although he won't say it. He was enjoying it way too much.

"My brother showed me a clip of yours last weekend... Can't believe you're actually funny." she keeps the conversation up, hands on her waist as she analyzes the man, his chest moving up and down, now way more controlled. "I thought you rich boys were all annoying and snobbish."

"We are. Don't let the gameplay fool you."

And there he is—the dark-humored Brit she met in the elevator. It brings a smile to her face.

"Yeah," she softens up. "Did anyone tell you that you are the standard? That Senna of yours parked downstairs... A baby, a very, very expensive baby."

"It's propaganda. I work for them. Did you know?"

She rolls her eyes lightly, the boy acting more and more natural as she stands in front of him.

"You get free luxury cars in the name of propaganda? Besides the billion-dollar one you drive every other weekend? Wow. How can I submit my resume?"

"I do think you could. You are a great doctor," he compliments, subtly, making it clear she wasn't expecting that. "Thank you for coming over, though. I didn't know I could have that control over myself."

"It's all up here," she points to her own head. "Whenever you need, I'm right next door. No... no more hurting yourself."

"That was an accident," he's quick to say. "But it's okay. If you're coming over every time I get hurt... I do have some spare plates."

"Lando, stop that!" Aurora tries to keep from laughing, hitting the Brit with a pillow. "I'm going now, okay? Since everything is fine and you're already joking your way around."

"Oh—no, no. It's fine. If you want to stay a bit more... In case I... trip or anything. It's really good to have professional help on hand."

Aurora has a smile on her face now.

There is something growing in the room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ iihandsiiheavn, 2024.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀check my masterlist or drop a request (:

[daisymbin]

a little push - joshua hong

warnings: none except a tipsy joshua

pairings: joshua hong x reader

genre: drunken confession, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

the house party was buzzing with energy, laughter echoing in every corner. colorful lights flickered in sync with the music, casting a warm glow over the crowd. you weaved through groups of friends, feeling the infectious excitement in the air. but as you glanced around, your gaze landed on joshua, who was slumped in a quieter area, looking troubled. his usually bright demeanor was overshadowed by a cloud of concern as he stared into his drink.

something in your chest tightened at the sight of him like that. you had known joshua long enough to recognize when he was putting on a brave face. with a sense of determination, you made your way over, weaving through the dancing bodies until you reached him.

“hey buddy, what’s wrong?” you asked, kneeling beside him, hoping to break through whatever was weighing him down.

he squinted up at you, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. “oh, hey… um. i’m not sure we’ve met,” he said, his voice slightly slurred.

“it’s okay,” you replied, forcing a smile despite the sudden pit in your stomach, you found him adorable, so you played along. “i just saw you looking a bit down and wanted to check in.”

“thanks, but it’s just… complicated.” he sighed, rubbing his forehead as if trying to erase the thoughts swirling in his mind. “don't tell anyone but i think…no im sure.. im sure i’m in love with my best friend, and it’s driving me crazy i dont know what to do.”

your heart raced at his confession, but you kept your expression neutral. you had always known he had strong feelings for someone, the boys always joked about it in front of you but even as his best friend, joshua was tight lipped, never telling you who it was, but hearing it out loud now especially from him hit differently. “really? that sounds tough. what’s stopping you from telling her?”

he leaned back, his hesitation palpable. “i don’t know. it’s risky. what if it ruins our friendship? what if she doesn’t feel the same? or worse, what if she’s in love with someone else?” he looked away, clearly grappling with the weight of his emotions.

you shifted a bit closer, sensing the turmoil within him. “those are valid concerns,” you said gently. “but keeping it to yourself can be just as risky. you might be missing out on something amazing.”

he let out a soft chuckle, tinged with bitterness. “yeah, maybe. but it’s easier to stay quiet than to take the chance and get hurt.”

“true,” you acknowledged. “but if you really care about her, wouldn’t you rather know the truth? it could be worth it.”

joshua looked at you, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. “i just wish i knew how she felt. it would make things so much easier.”

“maybe you could start by showing her how much she means to you,” you suggested, your heart racing as you spoke. “small gestures, spending more time together. see how she reacts. you seem like a great guy, im sure she feels the same about you.”

he nodded slowly, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “that makes sense. but still, what if she doesn’t reciprocate? what if it ruins everything?”

you took a moment to think, searching for the right words. “if she doesn’t, at least you’ll know where you stand,” you encouraged softly. “but you won’t know unless you take that step. living in uncertainty can be harder than facing the truth, no matter what it is.”

joshua sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “i guess you’re right. it’s better than just sitting around, worrying.”

there was a moment of silence between you, and you could see him weighing his options, his mind racing with possibilities. you could tell he was still hesitant, reluctant to fully open up to a stranger, even one who was clearly trying to help.

“you’re really insightful for someone i just met,” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice. “it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t directly involved.”

“i’m glad,” you said, feeling a little bittersweet knowing he still didn’t recognize you as his best friend. “just be brave. you’ve got this.”

he hesitated again, his expression contemplative. “it’s just… hard. what if i make everything awkward?”

“awkward moments can be part of growth,” you replied gently. “but they’re better than never trying at all.”

he took a deep breath, the weight of your conversation pressing on him. “you’re really pushing me to think about this, huh?”

“that’s the idea,” you said with a light laugh. “sometimes you need a little push to see things clearly.”

he looked at you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of the unspoken connection between you. but then he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. “i should probably go. i need to sort through this.”

“of course,” you said, giving him a gentle nod. “whatever you decide, just make sure it’s what you truly want.”

as he stood up, ready to leave, he paused, looking back at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “you really are a great friend, you know that?”

“thanks, joshua. i’m just here to help,” you replied, a bittersweet smile on your face.

he nodded, the gratitude in his eyes apparent. “i appreciate it. really. i’ll… i’ll think about what you said.”

as he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of longing in your chest. the party continued to pulse around you, but all you could think about was the possibilities ahead. would he take your advice? would he confess his feelings? you hoped he would, and that he would realize it was you he was meant to be with.

after a while, you found a spot on the couch, allowing yourself to relax a bit, but your mind was still racing. moments later, your phone buzzed in your pocket. you pulled it out to see a message from joshua. your heart skipped a beat as you opened it.

joshuji 🐰:

[02:47 AM] hey bunny, can we talk? well maybe tomorrow over lunch? I'm kinda hammered right now. but I've kinda been thinking about us a lot lately..I just…have something i need to get off my chest..

your breath caught in your throat as you read the message. you felt a wave of disbelief mixed with overwhelming happiness after all that hesitation in person.

of course, lunch at our favourite place?

you hit send, your heart pounding in your chest. moments felt like hours as you waited for his reply even as you were glancing over to him across the room. finally, your phone buzzed again.

joshuji 🐰:

[02:53 AM] yeah that would be nice. also, i really miss you. if its not too late, could you come pick me up?

you smiled as you read his message, the tension that had been building inside of you for so long finally releasing.

“hey handsome,” you said as you walked up to him, “you ready to go?” you don't think you've smiled this big in such a long time. “y/n! I missed you.” he said happily as he pulled you in closer for a hug, not caring that he was still sitting and you were standing. his head rested comfortably just below your chest as your hands come up, one against his cheek and the other patting his head gently as you played with his hair.

“you all good?” you asked yet again, “never been better. it feels so nice being so close to you. you're so warm.” he answers as he holds you impossible tighter. “come on, let's get you home, hm?”

“just 5 more minutes. let's just stay like this for 5 more minutes. I'm too comfortable. & I like having you close to me like this.” you wonder if this is him letting his feelings slip but you dont question it. despite the room full of people, you don't seem to notice anyone else & neither does he. “me too joshua, I like having you close to me like this.”

[jeonscatalyst]

As someone who's been into kpop for over 10 years, I just wanted to comment on the saesang ask. Saesangs aren't in their right mind, most of them are deeply obsessed with the person they are stalking and also have an element of desiring control over the person/wanting to feel closer than other fans. Most of them don't aim to air out an idol's private life, unless they get pissed off i.e. find out the idol is dating and feel like a jilted lover for example, so they lash out and leak private info. Most of them either have a mother or lover complex (for male idol saesangs) and want to control them. Their goal isn't to leak info, but to feel close and special to the idol.

There are some saesangs who do it for money by selling info about idols. BTS is so famous now that this isn't really viable because other than really really gullible people, most people realize that anyone could make stuff up about bts and call it "insider info". They're so big, it also makes more sense to go to Dispatch or something like that with "real info" to get top media dollar than sell to random fans. Even former saesangs say you'd have to be an idiot to buy bts "info" nowadays because its all going to be bullshit.

I want to be clear that any "legit" saesang rumor comes from idols having their personal life invaded without consent. I'm not saying their is a rumor about jikook out there, but even if there was, no one who actually gives any amount of fuck about them (especially korean fans who have a history of gatekeeping stuff that could harm the boys) as human beings would spread it, because it'd basically be outing them because actual saesangs have a terrifying amount of knowledge and connection to these idol's inner lives. I wanna be very careful how I say this, but for example there were group chat messages from an infamous saesang that got leaked years ago that in my opinion, implied some things about a kpop idol that had no right being implied publicly without their consent. You might wonder, well what about antis who hear the rumor, won't they spread it? But once again, most saesangs aren't looking to spread info about the idol they're stalking, and even if they do, a lot of them seem to mostly engage with other saesangs of the group their idol is in because they are, in some messed up obsessive unhealthy way, still a "fan" of the idol. So unless the groupchat gets pissed and someone leaks it or the saesang feels jilted by the idol they stalk, most of that stuff stays there.

Now in regards to jikook, the obvious reality is that they're bandmates. There's nothing crazy about them hanging out or being seen together. They even tell us themselves how much time they spend together privately at times. They aren't going to makeout in public, so what would a saesang say anyway even if they wanted to reveal stuff about them (which as I stated before, most of them don't aim to do anyway)? They saw them together? So what? Also as you @jeonscatalyst said, these people aren't god, just stalkers. Even they have limits and all saesangs aren't equal in terms of access to their idol, opportunities, etc. that allow them to get "info".

Also, pretty much all the "rumors" we hear about jikook even in heterosexual relationships don't come from saesangs, its just made up shit from random korean forums (this is actually the case for a lot of kpop rumors, not just related to jikoook or bts). This isn't to say jikook is real or something, but that we actually don't hear from "actual" saesangs as much as people like to pretend. I think i-fans of kpop think that term comes with authority because it implies a closeness to the idol from being a stalker (which is fucked up because why are we putting stalkers on a pedestal but I digress), so they kind of slap it on any rumor, but that's really not the case, especially for a group as famous as bts. You think if someone wants to make money off a rumor about them or aims to leak private info to take them down, they're going to sell it or share it into the fandom? No, they'd take it straight to the media or competing k-pop companies who would pay top dollar and be frothing at the mouth to take down the biggest kpop group in history. Basically, even if a saesang does want to spread something, its not coming to us in the form of fandom rumor. And since this is a jikook blog, let's pretend a saesang thinks jikook are a thing and for one reason or another, decides to share that info. How does spreading that info even work? What media company is going to not only out someone, but also risk looking like an actual buffoon for thinking two group members are together? The group aspect of bts gives plausible deniability for everything up until actual romantic/sexual physical contact pretty much, something which a saesang is never going to get evidence of unless they figure out how to become the actual wallpaper inside jikook's apartments. Even if they spread it though the fandom, fans will just look at them like a shipper. Like "aww you have a pic of them out at a restaurant? how cute! #jikookarethebestbros". I think it can't be overstated how much them being in the same group and shipping culture (+ homophobia) aid in downplaying any possibility of an actual romantic relationship being there.

Also just a sidenote, but saesangs are just extremely disturbed fans, they can be y/n's (most of them are), they can be homophobic, etc. Jungkook has some of most y/n fans of any top male kpop idol. Do I think its beyond a saesang to see their fave idol in a same-sex relationship and think "I can fix him (make him straight)?" Not at all. Do I think it would be above them to start seeing the other member/partner as "the other woman" and start hating them or blaming them for tainting their beloved idol? Not at all. In this scenario, I doubt they'd want to spread this info they think is "shameful" about their fave idol, they would just think he needs "fixed" or pulled away from the person "contaminating" him.

Anyway, I have spent waaaay to long in the kpop fandom, even pre-bts (when saesangs almost seemed worse back then) and this is the general consensus I have garnered about why saesangs are the way they are.

Thanks anon, for your very insightful input💜

[fangsandfeels]

Can anyone explain me what the ever-loving fuck is going on with the Qunari in Veilguard?

When I learned about Treviso occupation, I thought that was the result of Qunari officially being on the warpath. The Trespasser made it clear that the Qunari have been planning their invasion for quite a while - but chose to act covertly at first. Which makes perfect sense for Qunari, this is what they do. That would have also added some delicious moments for Taash and the Vashoth!Rook.

However, in the game we have not Qunari, but the Antaam (military). Which sounds stupid. The "it's not the nation, its it's soldiers doing it" excuse already sounds stupid if you ask me, but in the context of the Qunari lore it sounds even more stupid.

So, according to the accompanying media, Antaam...rebelled and acted without sanction. They have split into groups led by warlords who squabble between themselves and try to dig deep into the land they occupied. Which is bullshit.

The Antaam, meaning "body" in Qunlat, is the military of the Qunari led by the Arishok. Metaphorically, the Antaam are the eyes, ears, legs, arms and hands of the creature, everything that one needs to interact with the world, and so most Qunari encountered by Thedosians belong to the military

Antaam listen to the Arishok and Arishok alone. Qun is built on a system where everyone knows their place - and when they're out of place, they freak the fuck out, the massacre-the-family-because-my-tool-is-lost way. So, the probability of a large group of Qunari, an entire fucking army doing something without a command, and then digging a deeper hole for themselves by warlording is extremely low. Also, by all accounts, they're stop being seen by their kin as Qunari - they are Tal-Vashoth. Because they acted on their own volition, disobeyed the order, disobeyed the Arishok. This is not how the Qun works. No matter what they say, how they call themselves - they are Tal-Vashoth.

Like, there is a reason why Qunari are terrified of not fitting their mold - not only they have no idea of what to do when things don't go as planned, but also they are scared of losing their way and becoming permanently lost. The Iron Bull had that belief that he might lose his mind because he didn't know if he should trust himself without the guidance of Qun - him being a little more flexible due to his work as a spy as well as getting people he grew emotionally attached to helped with overcoming this barrier. But far from all Qunari are that lucky. Sten was so dejected after losing his sword that he let himself be caged - he didn't care about dying or anything anymore. He couldn't go home.

...Alright, where were we?

According to the wikipedia, Rasaan (the emissary of the Triumvirate)...took the control over Antaam? HOW? Qun is extremely rigid and allows no loopholes. For a change this massive there have to be some really, really good reasons - and I don't think the Antaam would have just accepted it. Without high enough approval, Sten only acknowledges Warden as the leader after they beat his ass in a duel.

Alright, let's say Rasaan gaslit the Antaam into believing she channels the way of the Qun and they ate it up. But why do we have warlords now?

Warlords with names, like Butcher? There are no names in the Qun. This is, once again, Tal-Vashoth behavior. But at the same time, they have access to qamek? What? How? Why? How does Par Vollen feel about their entire "body" fucking off? If they didn't sanction it, why aren't they stopping them???

It wouldn't be the first time for Bioware to twist their own lore and canon, but this one is legitimately migraine-inducing. Why not make a full-scale and sanctioned Qunari invasion, Qunari are like this! It's okay to make them the baddies, their ways are fucked up already and some positives don't make up for all the negatives! Don't just slap in a bunch of guys literally called "the army" and say "Nah, not all Qunari guys, these are just military acting on their own despite their lifestyle being all about following the system and doing your strictly established duties"

[ghouljams]

In your tags with the "not moose" breaking the Witch's wards you said you had to nerf her. Now all I can think about how insanely strong Witch is. Since it's a long generation of witches in her family- I guess she's well known in the magic community. Maybe they even invite her to be apart of some witches coven 👀. But she always refuses because she likes doing her own thing. But imagine she has to go to like certain meetings and what not and Price sees her in some formal witchy garb 👀👀👀

I haven't talked much about other witches in this au! I keep meaning to. Yes, Witch has been invited to multiple covens, but she prefers her privacy. Witch's family is well known as old magic, and older covens often invite her because they know she's got that strong ancestral tie to her magic. New covens of young witches often invite her because they think she's a novice witch. She does a lot of "makeshift" magic because she knows it so well, and where old witches would see her as somewhat of a prodigy, new age witches see her as inexperienced and unprepared.

As you might imagine that does not fly with Witch. So she only goes to coven meetings for 1 of 2 reasons: for a sounding board on a problem(old witches), or to be petty(new witches). Here's Witch interacting with a very condescending witch, and Price seeing her in her formal witchy clothes.

You snap a card down on the coffee shop table, the crisp sound of the cardstock against lacquered wood is music to your ears. You study the card, the mice, and jot down a few notes in your nearby journal. A cup of tea is set down in front of you, you're quick to swipe your cards out of the way.

"Are you reading tarot?" The girl, you think she's the owner, asks.

"Uh," You look at your Lenormand deck, "Yeah, I am." It's usually easier to lie to people when you don't want to explain what it is you're doing. You don't always want to have a conversation with a stranger about magic and how they have a friend that's really into "that sort of thing."

The girl sort of... scoffs, and rolls her eyes. Rude. "You know it's not all tarot right? That's an oracle deck," She tells you(it's not), sitting down across from you. You don't remember inviting her company, but it's fine. You close your notebook and gather your cards back into their deck. You're not really a fan of being tested like this.

"You read cards?" You try to smile, and look friendly. You wonder if you could make all her hair fall out. She gestures at the store generally. You look around at the, sigh, occult artwork and gothic vibes. Sort of overplayed if you're being honest. You can spy a few "Wicca-pedia" books on the overstuffed shelves. There's a table of crystals for sale, that explains why you're so itchy.

"I'm a witch," She says returning your smile.

"Neat," You already want to text your sister, or Rún, about this. "What do you practice?" New witches always want to talk about their practice, and it gives you time to shuffle your cards.

"Right hand path mostly, but recently?" She leans forward, whispers conspiratorially, "I've been dealing a lot with the fae." You pause your shuffle, your stomach clenching unpleasantly.

"Really?" You ask, "I thought you were supposed to stay away from them."

"Oh, yeah, you should definitely stay away from them," She nods, "They're dangerous for beginners, but once you know how to deal with them you can get them to do all sorts of stuff for you." You snap a card down on the table, a nervous habit from your mother.

The Mice again.

That's not your card.

You glance around the shop, the people milling about. You don't need to see them to know what they are, you can feel it. The mice in the storehouse, waiting for the lights to go out before they gorge themselves.

"So how long have you been practicing?" The dumbass asks.

"Not long," You mumble, still scanning the shop for anyone you might recognize. It's not technically a lie, in the grand scheme of things you really haven't been a witch long. You know witches far longer lived and far longer practiced. You shuffle your card back into the deck and set it on your notepad.

"I've been at it for about five years now," She powers through you ignoring her, "Do you have a coven or anyone you're learning from?" You glance at her, barely paying attention, as you pull a coin from your pocket and a pin from your skirt.

"No, I'm-"

"You should really be learning from someone," She cuts you off "magic can be dangerous for beginners." You ignore her harder, jabbing the pin into your thumb and smearing the blood on the silver coin. "Uh, sweetie?" You reach to tug a sugar packet free of its container on the table and break it open over the coin, what else, what else? Payment, threat, bait- you pull a lighter from your pocket and melt the plastic pin head to stick it to the coin. Assurance, good, done. "What are you doing?" The girl sounds annoyed, like you're making a mess for no reason.

"Making a fae ward," You tell her, she scoffs. Rude, again.

"You need a little more than some random trash to do a spell," She shakes her head, waves a hand. You take the opportunity to flick the coin off the table with practiced fingers as she tells you how badly you need a mentor and how you can't believe everything you see about magic on the internet. The coin goes flying, and pings neatly against the leg of a chair before starting to pinball around the cafe floor. "-you should really come to a coven meeting, see what real magic looks like."

You can feel your magic tracing its web through the store, you're not sure how much more real you can get with it. Not when you can see the fae customers trying not to jump away from your spell. Still, an insult is an insult. You fold your hands on the table and level your uninvited guest with what you hope is a neutral expression.

"When do you meet?"

-

You're remembering why you hate covens as you get ready. First of all you've been drawing wards on yourself all day, and snuck in a ritual bath, then you had to find your great-grandmother's old chatelaine since your ritual robes don't have any pockets. Most importantly you forgot how fucking cold it is when you're just in the gauzy ritual fabric your aunt made for you.

You check the clock, you're running a little behind so you don't have time to put on anything else. That's just great. Maybe you'll skip it. But then that stupid- Ugh. You take a breath to steady your emotions, no sense in getting worked up when you're so thoroughly doused in magic. You grab a length of Mal's lace from your closet and pin it in place to veil yourself. No way are you letting these little dumbasses stick anything on you.

Another quick check of the clock as you lace your heels, then you're out the back door. You stop yourself at the fence, stare out at the snowy winter landscape. You can already feel the frostbite setting in.

"lace looks good on you," Price whispers, his fingers feel so rough where they brush your back. You hum, and turn to face him. His eyes drop immediately to your chest. You wait for him to decide to meet your gaze again, and find yourself feeling a tad self conscious. You've never been self conscious about going to a ritual sky-clad before. Witches had a long history of dancing naked in the moonlight after all.

"Since when do you cross the fence unannounced?" You ask, trying to bring his attention back where it's meant to be.

"Since when do you leave the house with so much skin showing?" He fires back, stalking around you to check the back like a shark. You lift your veil for him, let him trace his fingers down your spine. They stop short of the draped fabric covering your ass, and you suppress the shiver it draws from you. You let your veil drop back over his hand, obscuring his view.

"I'm going to a ritual."

"Any reason they're getting the works?"

"I'm trying to prove a point." You sigh. "I may have gotten a little-"

"Petty?" Price fills in, you're glad you don't have to say it. His hand smooths over your shoulder, sliding under the lace to cup your neck. "Anything I should be worried about?" You tip your head, feeling the curl of his fingers against your throat, the lingering warmth of his cigar still on his fingertips. You wonder if it'll leave a mark.

"No." It feels too plain an answer, but you doubt there's anything he could do even if he was worried. You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, especially when other witches are involved.

Price hums, and you find the sound resonant as he tips your head back to rest against his shoulder. His body presses flush to your back, and you let it. You want nothing more than to sink into him, to let yourself relax into the dangerous hold he has over you, but you know your own ego. If there's one thing you can't stand it's a witch that thinks she's untouchable. You'd hate to see fresh talent eaten before it'd had a chance to blossom.

"You could escort me," You say, the idea striking you suddenly. What better way to show a new witch the dangers that hide behind fae kindness than to bring Price as your plus one? You're sure he's eaten more witches than he's comfortable divulging, but more importantly the wild listens to him. If he can take you through the forest you won't have to be cold so long.

"And what do I get, for this service?" He asks.

"What do you want?"

His hands go to cup your breasts almost as soon as the words leave your mouth, the thin fabric of your ritual robe doing little to hide his callused grip as he squeezes the soft flesh.

"Ten minutes," He breathes.

"You know you can have more than that," You smile.

"Not with you like this," His hands slip down, cup the softness of your stomach, hover over the pleat of fabric covering your legs.

"Alright," You agree, "ten minutes-" you can feel the ripple the goes through him, a deal of temptation being made, "-but only after, and you can't rip anything."

"Of course not," He agrees, "I want to see my witch dressed up again after all."

Inspiration images for the witch's ritual wear

[opencommunion]

this is what you said:

backpedaling isn’t cute.

most of the world doesn't have time to waste. the longer privileged "leftists" idle in their comfort, the more people will die in the meatgrinder of capitalism, starting with the most vulnerable — like Gazans, like Congolese, like indigenous Sudanese, like the victims of climate disasters in places this empire has drained of resources, like street homeless migrants in the good old US of A. begging the democratic party for crumbs might keep you alive for longer, but it will only make others die faster. to save not only individual lives but entire cultures, we need to move against the empire, not with it.

you are not talking about taking concrete action that would materially move us closer to liberation for anyone. you're talking about rewarding genociders with promotions. you are talking about making sure the party that orchestrated the extermination phase of the Palestinian genocide still get seats in congress. that's not good. like, idk what else to say at this point. I don't like to rely on the cliche of "the right side of history," because I think we should keep our eyes on what's happening now, and because as a historian I know my field is not immune to genocide denial/minimization. but I can't imagine that decent people in the future will look kindly on those who voted for a genocider and claimed they did it for the sake of the victims. please zoom out from your myopic pov and see how depraved your attitude looks.

"US presidential candidate Kamala Harris has denied she considers Israel's assault on Gaza as a genocide, after she appeared to back this view during a speech over the weekend, leading to a massive Israeli backlash. Harris's campaign responded to Israeli criticism over her perceived backing for a comment made by a pro-Palestine activist over the weekend about the ongoing genocide in Gaza. 'That is not the view of the Biden administration or the Vice President,' a Harris aide told The Jerusalem Post."

that was literally a gaffe that she had to immediately disavow. you're grasping at straws to comfort yourself about your decision to vote for a genocider.

"how on earth is removing trump not the obvious choice"? that's what the op is about.

it's patently absurd to say that Trump would be worse for Palestinians because he wants to eradicate them, when Harris is eradicating them right now. right now. it does not get worse than what's happening in Gaza today, now, as I write this and as you read it.

please listen to what Gazans have to say about this.

when both candidates are genocidal, we must turn to actions other than voting for and ever-so-gently "pushing" these genocidal politicians. it's not credible to me that most Harris voters would take any substantive action to "hold her accountable" after the election, when you failed to even threaten to withhold your votes, which is the most basic and easy way to pressure an elected official. it's our responsibility as human beings to do whatever it takes to stop this as quickly as possible, and I don't understand wtf you're waiting for

looking back on how liberal political analysts talked about donald trump during his 2016 campaign, I notice two very important insights that have vanished from the conversation this time around.

1: the dire warnings about the rise of fascism were really centered on trump's followers, not the man himself. what concerned scholars of fascism in particular was that the already well-established neonazi presence in the US was openly rallying around a presidential candidate. trump's campaign emboldened neonazis, but the neonazis were already there — this is why we saw an astronomical rise in hate crimes against many marginalized groups during trump's campaign, before he was elected. trump himself was understood as an opportunist riding the wave of rising fascist sentiment — the wave itself was a bigger concern than the surfer. trump was replaceable. liberals now seem to have forgotten that trump's followers won't disappear if harris wins. the heritage foundation (originators of 'project 2025,' blue maga's favorite boogeyman) won't disappear if harris wins. extreme right politicians — many of whom I would argue are even further right than trump, and more embedded in the establishment — won't disappear. even if you mistakenly see the republican party as the sole provenance of usamerican fascism, republicans won't disappear if harris is elected.

2: the people centered in the crosshairs of trump's agenda were migrants and asylum seekers; chiefly those from south of the US border and from majority muslim countries. the intensified demonization of these groups led analysts to draw parallels with fascist parties that were on the rise in europe. hatred of migrants and muslims is indisputably the primary driver of 21st century fascism, from the UK to India. so tell me why the conversation in the US has shifted to revolve around white trans people? yes, trump supporters are obviously transphobic, but you have to trace this particular manifestation of transphobia to its source, which still comes down to white supremacy and anti-migrant sentiment. when you actually look at the way fascists talk about trans people, it all comes back to the idea that hostile foreign elements invading the country have degraded white christian values. trans people of color have already been targeted for a long time, because we're seen as a sort of vanguard of non-white perversion; this isn't new to us. white trans people are now experiencing increased persecution because transness is seen as infiltrating white families/communities and corrupting their whiteness. I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about the rise of transphobic policies; of course we should. what disturbs me is that anti-migrant sentiment has been shunted to the sidelines of discussions of 'trumpism,' when it is still very much the center of his platform. and that's the part of his platform that the harris campaign has adopted to try and pull voters from him! that's the part of the republican platform that the biden administration advanced with the excuse of 'reaching across the aisle.' and what more extreme manifestation of an anti-migrant anti-muslim platform is there than committing genocide in gaza and then refusing to let gazan asylum seekers (or even gazans with US citizenship!) into the US?

the entire US government, red and blue, is unified around the anti-migrant, white supremacist crux of so-called 'trumpism.' large swathes of the american public, whether they vote red or blue, are enthusiastic about genocidal foreign and domestic policies. none of this stops when trump is gone