#classes and notes below the cut lol!

[cyberhughes]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔. NSFW! 18+

luke hughes x reader

warnings: smut of course ;) | oral (m!receiving) | sub!luke | unprotected sex (guys pls wrap it before you tap it) | slight corruption/innocence kink?? | severe lack of proper aftercare | kind of a dark ending idk i’m a fiend

author’s note: this is my first time writing smut i’m so sorry in advance if it sucks LOL!! but i miss you guys I’ve been so MIA im sorry but i just wanted to write this to get back into the writing groove before i continued on w the next chapter of too sweet!! anyways i’m horny for luke bye

NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT!

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who blushes a deep shade of red after telling you that he was a virgin. the two of you had taken a break from studying for your upcoming quiz, and you couldn’t help but want to pry into his personal life! other than being in the same class, you didn’t really know anything about him at all.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who averts your gaze as you express your disbelief, wondering how a gorgeous hockey player like him could possibly be a virgin. though you stopped yourself and smiled softly when you saw him getting embarrassed—he was so adorable.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who nearly dies on the spot when you look up at him with doe eyes and whisper, “i can teach you.”

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who hesitantly places his hands on your hips as you straddle him, your hands finding place on his broad shoulders. he can feel a chill run down his spine when you rub your hands along shoulders and down his arms, your acrylic nails scratching his skin soothingly.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who sighs in content when you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck, like your lips were made to be on him.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a small, almost inaudible whimper when you start to roll your hips against his, still lapping at his neck, leaving a trail purple marks all over. you’ll smirk when you feel his grip on your hips tighten, “s’okay lu,” your breath is hot against the shell of his ear when you whisper, “i’ll take care of you.”

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who’s slender fingers move upwards from your hips when you tell him that he can touch you. his cold digits dancing under your shirt along your waist and stomach, spreading goosebumps along your skin as they travel.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who looks at you with lust filled eyes, almost begging without words. he’s precious, and you can’t help but pull him in for a proper kiss.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who can feel himself getting impossibly hard while you drag your clothed cunt against his erection, all while dancing your tongue against his, saliva practically pooling out of his mouth. he just couldn’t get enough.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who sucks in a breath when you break the kiss to remove your t-shirt, saliva stringing from your mouths and you lift the fabric over your head, revealing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. god, its like you were plotting for this to happen. as he gazed at your chest with his mouth agape, you helped him to pull off his own shirt, revealing his tone body that he had built over the years.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who follows your lead as you guide him to lay down against your pink pillows. he’ll watch you intensely, not moving a muscle as you kiss and lick down his chest, inching closer and closer to the waistband of his sweats. “tell me to stop and i will.” he hears you say but he shakes his head, urging you to keep going.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who whimpers when you pull down the waistband of his grey sweats and start kissing and palming him through his boxers. you’ll look up to the most heavenly sight; his cheeks flushed, purple bruises littered everywhere, and his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he awaits your next moves.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who feels like prey under your touch. you’ll pull both his sweatpants and boxers off fully, taking a moment to admire his cock, so pink and pretty as it stands ready for your touch. “you’re so pretty lukey.” you whisper as you reach out for it, making eye contact as you kiss his tip, before experimentally giving a few kitten licks, wanting him to get used to the sensation at first.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a strangled groan when you take him into your mouth, tongue flat against the underside of his cock while one hand is rested at the base. your free hand reaches to trace along his abs, feeling the way his stomach caves when you suck a bit harder. you’ll bob your head up and down, listening to the sweet moans that pour out of his mouth as if it was music to your eyes.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who tries his very best to form a coherent sentence amidst getting the best head of his life, “fuck…feels so good.” he cries, reaching his hands out to brush through your hair. you notice the way his breaths gets shorter, and his hips slightly jerking up to meet you halfway and you pull off.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who looks at you like he might start tearing up, beginning to ask why you stopped, but you’ll shush him by pressing a finger to his lips before wiggling yourself out of your shorts. “can i fuck you lukey?” he could’ve cum right then and there.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who almost salivates when you straddle him yet again, dragging the tip of his length along your cunt. you whimper when you rub his tip against your wet folds. “stop teasing me…” he whines and you can’t help but let out a small laugh at his already fucked out expression. “i’ll give you what you need, baby.” you coo before finally lining him up with your entrance and sinking down, manicured hands placed onto his chest for support as you struggle to take his length. hell, you could clearly see that he was big but it was another thing to feel him stretch out your insides. “fuck lu…so big.” you finally sink down all the way, feeling full like you never have before.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who bites his lip, concealing his moans when you begin to roll your hips, lifting up and down ever so slightly. you lean down to pepper kisses over the marks you had left beforehand, whispering sweet nothings as he wraps his arms around your back, practically engulfing you. “more…” his voice is deep as he begs and you begin to grind harder and faster, the position giving perfect friction to your swollen clit.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who just can’t help but thrust up to meet you halfway, large hands sliding along your spine, down to grip your ass, helping you move up and down faster.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who feels like he’s in heaven when you whimper in his ear, moaning how he’s being so good to you, “does it feel good? huh lukey?” you lift your head slightly to look him in the eyes and he nods quickly, “so good…”

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who can feel his orgasm inching closer and closer, “stop…m’gonna cum..” he whines when you grind down harder at his words. “s’okay. want you to come inside.” you lick at his ear and he can feel the heat growing in his abdomen, letting out an animalistic groan at your words.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who has one hand gripping your hair and one gripping your ass as he thrusts up into you, “m’sorry…” he says as he bucks his hips up into you and your eyes roll to the back of your head at his speed, feeling the pressure inside you snap as your orgasm washes over you, pussy practically convulsing around him. “mm fuck!” you cry out as he continues his movements, chasing his own orgasm.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who bites down on your shoulder when he cums, hips stuttering as he fills you up. “baby baby…” you moan before pulling him in for a heated kiss, still grinding your hips as you ride out your orgasms.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who lets out a shaky breath when you pull off of him, watching his cum drip down your legs. “did so good baby.” you whisper, grabbing your tshirt you hard discarded earlier and using it to wipe the cum off of your bodies. “did so good, you can sleep now pretty boy.” you place a kiss on his forehead before pulling your blankets over you.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who peeks over after you’ve fallen asleep, quietly getting up to put his clothes on and grab his things. he slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to your dresser, reaching behind a few of your books and grabs his phone. he stops the recording that he had going before looking back to make sure you were still asleep.

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who doesn’t feel bad when he quietly leaves your dorm, almost immediately opening imessage.

luke

shit was too easy

ethan

fucking told you lmao

she’s looks innocent but she’s a freak

luke

right? she even let me nut inside

ethan

wait whatt

she didn’t let me :(

⋆˚࿔ studybuddy!luke who you never hear from again after that night.

masterlist❣️

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[shadowkoo]

disgraceful dreams

→ Summary: After two years of lustful pining and disgraceful dreams about someone far out of your reach, you decide the only way to move past your hopeless crush on Onyx Academy's star student is by taking part in the Lupercalia festival for the very first time.

↠ wooyoung x f.reader (feat. yeosang) | 16.4k words | 18+ ↠ genre: witch/warlock au, smut, virgin!reader, inspired by s2e3 of caos, slowburn

→ Full Fic Warnings: little bit of social class discrimination, cult-ish behavior (mentions of blood, Y/N uses a knife to cut her hand for binding/ritual purposes), being ‘hunted’ like prey, explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names, praise kink, biting, nipple play, breast play, begging, fingering, mutual masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), exhibitionism, voyeurism, partial agoraphilia & semi-public sex, dirty talk, heavy teasing, spanking, multiple orgasms, grinding, deep dicking, size kink (wooyoung is HUNGGG), magical sex, fucking up against a tree, slight age gap (y/n is 20 and wooyoung is 25), slight corruption, choking, possessive!wooyoung, woo is ravenous for you (you’re welcome)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @pirateeznet @cromernet

@illusionnet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @cultofdionysusnet

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: edited by the lovely aeris @beomcoups whom i appreciate so SO much for tackling this beast of a fic ILY! And also to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for reading this over for me!!! this doesn’t follow the exact lupercalia process, i’ve twisted it to work for my fic and based it around halloween instead of valenbarf day lol, if you'd prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here!! all likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

‘This can’t be real.’

Jung Wooyoung casts a dark look upon you while taking in your ethereal, naked form before him. The flames of the common room’s fireplace dance in his eyes, reflecting his sinister and most impure thoughts. Thoughts of you, what he wants to do to you. With you.

‘I must be dreaming.’

He circles around you, hovering over your backside and letting his hands fall to your bare hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

“Mmm, can I touch you?” Wooyoung whispers as he leans in to kiss the dip between your shoulder and neck.

You nod, giving him permission to do whatever he pleases, and lean back against his broad chest.

His hands move from your side, one moving upward to cup your breast, the other heading down between your legs, gently tracing your silky skin until his fingers find their way home and sink into your sweet center.

The sensation awakens you from your sinful slumber, and you sigh, realizing it was only a dream—another delicious and depriving dream that left you wanting someone who would never consider you.

Groaning, you force yourself to roll out of bed and step toward your closet. Black Mass isn’t for another hour, but arriving early might help erase these recurring dreams from your memory.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hall as you exit the residential wing, making your way outside. It’s a beautiful gloomy day, the air is crisp and the sun is hidden by thick clouds that look as if they could open up at any moment and soak the woods with another harsh day of rain - something you wouldn’t mind.

The fog creeps through the forest, following your steps and trailing behind while you wait for your familiar to catch up. Besides your raven’s distant cry, it’s quiet. The hum of the earth’s magic is even more reserved than usual. It’s peacefully eerie.

“Ghoul Morning, Blair,” you say, extending your wrist out for her. She caws from above and slowly descends from the clouds, eagerly accepting your arm as the safe place to perch while you walk along the path to the Unholy Church.

Though she looks like a raven while masked, Blair wreaks havoc in her goblin form on anyone, and anything, that dares to disturb you. She’s one of the strongest familiars a witch could be cursed with, and you’ve been thankful for her services ever since you started training.

It’s your second year attending The Onyx Academy of Dark Casting, a magical finishing school that only the finest witches and warlocks between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five are given the unholiest privilege to attend.

Of these students, the Dark Stars of each class lead with their high values and spectacular spell casting. More often than not, they graduate with the highest dishonor and ascend to become High Priests and Priestesses of covens across the world.

Jung Wooyoung is a beloved Dark Star and stellar student, and it’s rumored that he’ll become the youngest Anti-Pope inducted into the Church of Night after his completion here at the academy.

Even with your unique gift, it’s not in the cards for a person of your status to ever equal his. Which you very well know and understand, despite the dark fantasies that haunt you most nights and your schoolgirl crush that hasn’t gone away since the very first day you met him.

Blair lets out a sharp caw, her wings cutting through the air as she ascends, perching gracefully on the steeple just as you arrive at the church. Her dark silhouette stands stark against the sky, watching over you like a silent sentinel.

The towering doors creak open as you approach them, welcoming you inside the dim space. You walk between the rows of pews, watching the candles that mark the aisle light up as you pass.

Once closer to the altar, you lift a hand and wave it across the front of the sanctuary. The room becomes brighter as the remaining unlit candles grow flames from your magic.

You have a way with the elements; you’re able to manipulate and control them as you wish without specific spells, conjuring them when you please. Your energy is unmatched compared to the other gifted students.

Yet, instead of improving your social status, being gifted has made you even more of an outcast. The professors are wary of your potential and what you could be capable of; the students keep their distance too, either jealous or frightened of your power.

Needless to say, you’re not Miss Popular, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it could. Only the luckiest of witches and warlocks are disgraced with gifts from the Dark Lord, and having chosen you out of everyone means something. And knowing the Dark Lord chose you is enough.

You settle into your usual pew, the familiar creak of the wooden bench under you blending into the background as your mind begins to churn. Thoughts swirl of today’s impending announcement during Father Blackmoor’s sermon cross your mind.

The excitement for Lupercalia is beginning to build. This ancient festival, celebrated by all magic wielders the week leading up to Halloween, is dedicated to the Goddess Peralia, who blesses covens with enhanced health, virility, and fertility in exchange for an indelicate offering. Participants must engage in a series of ritualistic events celebrating lust and sexuality, transforming the festival into a vibrant expression of desire and intimacy. Only then will she offer her unholiest blessing.

You sit there, not in prayer, but in a quiet storm of contemplation, unsure if you will sign up for the festival this year. Another downfall to being viewed as an outsider is that you have yet to experience, well, anything. Sure, you might have kissed a couple of warlocks in your intermediate years, you even had a boyfriend in prep school whom you were convinced you could have loved eventually, but your virtue has yet to be given away.

It’s common for witches and warlocks to lose their virginity during Lupercalia; typically when they are in prep school. In fact, it’s encouraged. Yet, by age twenty, you still haven't mustered the courage to join in the festivities.

This year might be different…

The sudden crash of books jolts you from your thoughts. You turn to see Yeosang, a fellow student, crouched beside a toppled stack of The Book of Blood, its pages splayed open.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he scrambles to gather the scattered volumes. His cheeks flush slightly, and you can't help but smile softly.

He’s a sixth-year student, just like Wooyoung. Yet, where Wooyoung’s presence demands your attention with an almost suffocating charisma, Yeosang embodies a more reserved demeanor. He tends to stick to his tight-knit group of friends and immerses himself in his studies, radiating a quiet intensity that draws you in without overwhelming you.

You feel a wave of annoyance wash over you as soon you realize that even in the presence of another man, your thoughts keep drifting back to Wooyoung. It frustrates you to no end, pushing you to a spontaneous decision: this year will finally be the year you break free from this obsession. By participating in Lupercalia, you’re determined to finally move on from him once and for all.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, “The Dark Lord has already provided me with the clarity I came here for.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, carefully restacking the last book. He glances to his left, likely considering the seat he usually occupies, before turning back to you. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he asks, a hopeful note in his voice as he gestures toward the space beside you.

“Not at all, please do,” you smile.

He settles beside you with an effortless grace, and the air around you immediately fills with the warm, intoxicating blend of amber and musk from his cologne. The scent is rich, almost magnetic, pulling your attention in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You fidget with your hands, trying to focus on anything but how good he smells, as your mind races to keep pace with your quickening heartbeat.

Maybe... you could partner with Yeosang for the festival. The thought lingers as you steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s undeniably handsome—sharp features that give him a striking, confident look, but it’s his kindness that really stands out. There’s a warmth in the way he carries himself, a subtle softness behind those strong eyes that makes him more than just attractive. You wonder what it would be like to lose your virginity to someone like him, someone who seems both strong and thoughtful in all the right ways.

"Are you sure you are okay? You seem a little tense," he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern as his eyes search your face. You hesitate to answer, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks, and though you're trying to keep your composure, your breath has grown a little quicker, more shallow.

Thankfully, he’s kind enough not to mention it, but you catch the flicker of awareness in his gaze. His words are gentle, but there's an underlying curiosity there—like he's not just asking out of politeness but because he genuinely cares. You try to steady yourself, aware of the closeness between you, and suddenly the air feels heavier as if the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for your next move.

"I didn’t mean to pry if it’s personal," he quickly adds, his voice softening as he notices your hesitation. His words have a touch of urgency, and he backtracks, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. His shifts slightly, giving you space while still holding onto the moment, unsure whether to push further or retreat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" The words escape your lips before you even realize what you’ve said. For a moment, you freeze, caught off guard by your sudden vulnerability. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but there’s no turning back now.

Yeosang nods and softly says, “Of course.”

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” you admit guardedly.

“Oh, um. That’s, uh…” He’s visibly taken aback when he hears your confession, stumbling over his words. “Wow, I… I wasn’t expecting that.”

He shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, uh, that’s really something. I just, uh… I guess I never saw you as someone who hadn’t, you know, participated.” He draws out the last word, his tone heavy with the unspoken meaning.

You nod, trying to meet his eyes. “I know, it’s just… I never felt called to join in on the festivities in previous years. But lately, that feeling has… changed.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, I get it. So you’ll be signing up for the events this year?” He asks with a calm, collected voice, though he’s concerned that the quickened rhythm of his heartbeat betrays his calm facade.

Hearing your confession piques his interest. He’s always found you hauntingly beautiful and has enjoyed the casual conversations you’ve shared between classes and such, but today feels different.

He knew you didn’t actively participate last year, though he figured you were still doing something-someone-in private. Now that your secret is out, there's something undeniably more intriguing about you—an unexpected allure that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“I think you should,” he blurts out, then quickly adds, “What I mean is, the festival’s about self-expression and the intimacy you share along the way. If you’re looking for a wild introduction to Lupercalia, there will be plenty of opportunists who share that venereal vision. But if you want something more comforting…choose someone who makes you feel safe and respected for your first time.” Yeosang trails off, his gaze lingering a little too long, the implication unmistakable. He clears his throat, trying not to give himself and his intentions away.

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you say while resting a hand above his knee, genuinely appreciating his insight.

Before the conversation can continue, the sound of footsteps echoes through the Church as fellow students file in, taking their seats. Black Mass is about to begin.

Wooyoung hadn’t intended to listen in on your conversation. He was too busy waiting for the other Dark Stars to arrive at the closed-off sanctuary to finish preparing for Black Mass. As usual, they didn’t show up early despite his suggestions. That’s a lie; he knew his words were less like suggestions and more like demands.

He was well aware they’d be late today, especially since most of the fifth and sixth years had spent the night at an intimate pre-Lupercalia party that stretched into dawn.

The only reason he peeked through the shadows was due to a loud crash, which he soon realized came from Yeosang, who appeared entranced by someone sitting near the front of the Church. That’s when he noticed it was you.

He’ll admit to having observed you over the past year—not out of personal interest, but because he’s intrigued by your unique gift and curious as to why the Dark Lord chose you of all people. Yes, you’re undeniably attractive as most witches are, but your ability to manipulate pure power without relying on spellwork is, to him, the most compelling quality you possess. If you had the right social standing, you would likely ascend to the role of High Priestess in a very fortunate coven.

From his hidden vantage point, he watches as his friend settles down beside you; that’s when the conversation begins.

“I’ve…never participated in Lupercalia,” he hears you share your secret. Now that is quite a confession.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a smirk as he observes your flushed face from a distance, the rosy hue contrasting with the cold room that surrounds you. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes as he takes in the way you shift nervously, completely unaware of his gaze.

Knowing that you haven’t been touched stirs a mix of amusement and curiosity within him. He wonders what thoughts are racing through your mind, feeling a strange sensation rush through him when you place your hand on his classmate’s thigh.

He saw no reason to hold back from participating. The moment he came of age, he dove in—and he’s done so every year since, always finding ways to revel in the experience to the fullest. As he reflects on past encounters, a pleased smile crosses his face as he silently counts the number of popped cherries he’s collected over the last several seasons, each a vivid memory weaved into his mind.

‘What’s one more…’

As more students trickle in and take their seats, the soft murmur of conversation fills the air. Wooyoung senses the moment is right and slips out of the shadows just as Father Blackmoor begins to walk down the aisle, weaving between the pews filled with eager faces. The flickering candlelight dances on the stone walls, casting a warm glow that contrasts with the coolness of the sanctuary.

He moves to stand on the left of Father Blackmoor, joining the other Dark Stars who are trying to stifle their yawns. The collective fatigue from the previous night’s festivities hangs in the air, but a shared excitement simmers beneath the surface. He exchanges brief glances with his fellow Stars, a silent acknowledgment of their late-night revelry and the anticipation of what today’s ceremony will bring.

“Fiends and Friends, today marks the beginning of our annual Lupercalia Festival,” Father Blackmoor announces, his voice resonating through the crammed Church. “As you all know, Lupercalia is upon us. I can feel the excitement buzzing in the air. The Festival of Wolves is a cherished tradition within our coven, and we take immense pride in honoring Goddess Peralia through a series of exhilarating rituals, all in hopes of receiving her unholiest blessings. With that in mind, let’s review the week’s events for those of you who are new to our practices.”

Father Blackmoor pauses to take an envelope from Wooyoung. “Tomorrow marks the start of the Assessment Period, which will be held in the Grand Hall. Witches who sign up today will be quizzed by prospective partners in hopes of finding their ideal match.”

“Courting begins on Tuesday. Those interested in a specific witch will reserve time slots to spend more time together. By the end of the night, the warlocks must submit the names of the witches they wish to be paired with. This will be followed by the Matching Ceremony on Wednesday, where the pairs will be revealed to the entire coven. On Thursday, we’ll have the Moon Ritual, during which the paired couples will venture into the darkwood to complete the rite. More specific details will be shared on the day, but they are expected to spend the night together beneath the moon in unholy abstinence.”

Some students snicker, knowing very well they won’t be abstaining from anything that night.

Father Blackmoor waits for the room to settle down before continuing, “Friday ushers in the Insatiable Hunt at dusk, where wolf-masked warlocks will chase after their red-cloaked witches through the woods, culminating in divine pleasure once they’ve been caught. We’ll conclude the week of festivities on Saturday with the Final Feast, where we will express our gratitude to Goddess Peralia for her many blessings this season.”

Wooyoung steps forward once more, this time carrying an ancient, leather-bound tome. The worn edges and faded lettering hint at its age and significance.

It’s the Book of Blood; which contains hundreds of Witches and Warlock's printed names, signed with their crimson ink, as a binding commitment to their word. It’s like a contract between yourself, the entire coven, and the Dark Lord himself.

With a practiced hand, he carefully cracks it open, his eyes sweeping across the room. “Witches that dare to participate, please step forward, say your intent, and sign your name in the Book of Blood.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you push yourself to your feet, joining the line of participants ahead of you. A mix of excitement and nerves swirl in your stomach, each step bringing you closer to the moment you've been both dreading and anticipating.

The weight of curious eyes fall on you as you move, but none more intense than Yeosang's. His gaze feels like a spotlight, cutting through the crowd around him.

With each passing second, your pulse quickens as the line inches forward at a deathly slow pace. Every breath feels shallow, as if the air is too thick for your lungs to handle. Despite the knot of nerves tightening in your belly, your feet move on their own, as if guided by some force beyond your control.

Before you even realize it, you’re standing before Wooyoung. His eyes pierce down onto you while he hands you a knife, “Do you hereby pledge your full participation and commitment to the forthcoming Lupercalia festival and all associated events?”

Taking a deep breath, you respond, “Yes, I pledge myself.”

You take the knife from him, feeling the cold steel as you press the sharp blade into your palm. With a swift motion, you slice a clean, precise line across your skin. Ruby-red blood wells up, pooling in your cupped hand. Without hesitation, Father Blackmoor raises his hand, his dark magic swirling in the air as he draws the blood from your palm. It twists and shapes into the form of a pen, glowing faintly with a sinister aura, ready to be used.

You reach up and grasp the hovering pen, its energy vibrating through your hand. As you sign your name in the book, a surge of adrenaline floods your veins, electrifying every nerve. The moment the ink dries, you feel an undeniable shift. Something deep within you has been awakened.

Wooyoung smirks, knowing the sensation very well. “There’s no backing out now,” he says to you, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“So,” Jongho, a second-year student like yourself, pauses to clear his throat after pulling on his tie, “That was awful.”

You chuckle, relieved to see you're not the only one with frayed nerves. “Yeah, good luck with the rest of them.”

He smiles back before shuffling along to the next person.

It’s Assessment Day, and every witch who signed their name is being rigorously questioned by the participating warlocks. Friends who had gone through this in previous years warned you about what to expect, and they were right. It’s definitely a forced mingling period on steroids.

It’s only been an hour, and you’re already exhausted of the routine of answering questions filled with probing and uncomfortable inquiries that delve into personal preferences. Over and over again, you're forced to confront touchy subjects, as if each question is designed to peel away the layers of your desires, as if you know.

The process feels more like an interrogation than a mere assessment, testing not just your patience, but your lack of knowledge on the subject at hand—sex.

The situation would be far less awkward if you didn't have to sit directly across from someone to verbally review the list. After each question, it’s mandatory to respond in one of the following ways: Agree - you give consent to the matter being discussed with the current party; Acknowledge - it is a potential option, and you give partial consent or Decline - no consent is given.

You pick at your fingernails while you wait for the next warlock.

“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” You glance up to see Yeosang sliding into the seat across from you, with a broad smile spread across his handsome face.

“Oh, hi!” you say, doing your best to not sound startled. “Just wondering when all of this will be over, you know?” you continue, waving your arms around.

“Yeah, this part of the process isn’t the most comfortable. But I understand why it’s necessary,” he comments while leaning forward on the table. “Have the others been respectful?”

“Oh, yes. Yeah, everyone has been nice. I’m learning how many students I’ve never spoken to before,” you reply lightheartedly.

"Shall we begin?" Yeosang asks with a playful glint in his eyes, nodding toward the paper resting between you on the table, waiting for your cue to dive in.

Just as he reaches to pick up the list of desires to discuss, his movement is halted by the sudden arrival of Wooyoung, whose presence instantly commands attention.

He strides up to your table with his usual confidence, a grin tugging at his lips. The conversation shifts before it even begins, as Wooyoung’s energy pulls both your attention toward him without saying a word.

Yeosang lowers the paper, his eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, sensing the inevitable distraction.

“Father Blackmoor has requested your presence in the Anti-Sacristy,” Wooyoung announces, handing him a miniature scroll with a secret message.

Yeosang frowns while reading it over, “Please excuse me.”

"Of course, I hope everything's alright," you murmur, though your words go unheard as he's already on his feet, moving swiftly toward the door.

Watching Yeosang rush out, you suddenly realize Wooyoung is still standing there. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he tilts his head, studying you with a curious intensity.

"Seems like you require a partner," he says with a smirk, sliding effortlessly into Yeosang’s chair without missing a beat.

You’re too stunned to respond and shift uncomfortably in your seat, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. He’s not offering to go through the questionnaire, is he?

Somehow, you forgot that you would, at some point, have to converse with Wooyoung today. It entirely slipped your mind up until this moment. And now he’s here without giving you time to prepare. You start to breathe a little heavier, and a slight sense of panic sets in.

“Why are you acting like that?” He says with a raised eyebrow, noticing your bouncing leg (a nervous habit of yours that annoyingly shows up at the worst possible moments.)

“I’m not sure what you mean?” Well, yes, you do but you won’t admit that. But your hyperventilating and antsy body might tell a different story.

“Yeah, right,” he rolls his eyes.

Your eyes lock on Wooyoung’s as he casually picks up the page. Without waiting for your reaction, he glances at the list and reads off the first item, his voice smooth and confident.

"How does each party feel about blood play; drawing blood by use of knives or other sharp weaponry, smearing blood, using blood as a lubricant, and/or tasting blood?" he reads off, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

"I acknowledge," you reply with hesitation in your voice, uncertain whether you’re truly opposed to it, yet not entirely sure if you fully consent either. “And you?”

Wooyoung tilts his head again, “Do you really need to ask?”

"You and I both know there are specific rules to follow here," you say, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed, eyes fixed on him with a mixture of challenge and caution. And, if you’re being completely honest, there’s a hint of annoyance now too. The nervousness from earlier has vanished entirely.

“Fair enough,” "he replies with a nonchalant sigh, “I agree.”

It’s your turn to read off the next item. “Does each participating student consent to bringing in other parties to join and/or watch your sexual relations? And additionally, joining others.” You look up toward Wooyoung, already expecting him to agree to those terms.

“Decline,” he states firmly, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “I don’t share.”

You try to mask your shock, but the expression slips through.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I also decline.”

He nods curtly, and you swear you hear him mutter "good" under his breath.

You breeze through the next set of questions surprisingly fast, both providing the appropriate answers as you work your way down the page.

At first, Wooyoung seemed a bit disinterested, but something caused his attitude to shift. Now, he’s more engaged, genuinely listening to your reasonings whenever you offer it.

“Last question, how many sexual partners have each participating party had?”

As he finishes speaking, you narrow your eyes at him, “That question isn’t on the list.” You’ve practically memorized them all by now. “You’re making that up.”

“So? Answer anyway,” he dares.

You glare at him, silently debating whether or not you should tell the truth. “Screw it,” you exhale, “None.”

Instead of the shock or teasing you expect, he simply blinks at you, as if he already knew what your answer would be.

But how…

When you wake the next morning, butterflies are already fluttering in your stomach. At this point, it’s hard to judge who will end up courting you, though you have a pretty good idea that Yeosang is interested. When he returned after visiting Father Blackmoor, you two had quite a connection while going through the assessment list.

You’ll find out for sure when you make it to the Dining Hall the courting schedule will be pinned on the announcement board for everyone to view.

You decide to grab a pastry and wait for the crowd around the schedule to thin out before checking how many dates you will have today. To keep things relatively fair, each witch is only allowed to have up to five courting suitors. A flicker of nerves sets in—what if no one reserved one of your time slots?

For the love of Lucifer, please let me have at least one warlock courting me.

You shove the last bite into your mouth and make your way to the board, eager to find out. Peeking around the remaining heads blocking your view, you spot that two of your time slots have already been reserved. Just as you’re trying to make out the names, someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Ghoul morning, Y/N,” Yeosang says with a smile, handing you a card. Your heartbeat picks up, recognizing the formality; courting warlocks are required to provide the witches with a card that essentially confirms their date.

“Hi, Yeosang!” You beam. Praise Satan.

He looks relieved when you accept his card. “I was hoping to see you this morning. Meet me at the Weeping Willow at three o’clock this afternoon. I have a special activity planned for us.”

You’re about to respond when you can feel his presence. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung standing closely behind. He towers over you, staring down Yeosang.

“Do you need something?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you while silently begging that he’s not here to send Yeosang away again, like yesterday.

“Yes,” he extends a hand, offering you a card. You stare at it in disbelief. He’s not here to steal Yeosang; he’s stealing you.

Wooyoung is your other suitor.

“I believe you’re meant to spend the morning with me.” Wooyoung’s eyes drift from yours and back to Yeosang’s, who tenses beside you. They seem to have a silent exchange of words.

“I see,” Yeosang says curtly, “Enjoy your time together.”

Before you have a chance to say anything Yeosang already disappears. Damn it.

“Come on, follow me,” Wooyoung demands while grabbing your wrist. He leads you down the dim, shadowy hallways of the school before picking up the pace as you leave the safety of the school, heading into the woods.

The thick trees close in around you, and the air feels heavier with each step. Fog swirls at your feet but mysteriously clears a path ahead of him like it knows exactly where he's going. You follow, feeling the cool, damp air cling to your skin. The deeper you go, the more unfamiliar the landscape becomes—you don’t recognize this part of the woods at all, and a strange sense of unease settles over you.

“Bloody heaven, where are you taking me?” you huff, doing your best to keep up with his long strides.

“You’ll see,” he grumbles, helping you up when you trip over an exposed tree root. “Can you stop tripping every five seconds? You’re slowing us down, and we’re on a time crunch.”

You glare at the back of his head as he speeds up. What a dick.

It’s not long before you arrive at the destination; it’s a stone table in the middle of the woods. You look around suspiciously. “Is this a ritual site? Are you planning on killing me for some weird sacrificial thing now that you know I’m a virgin, or…?”

Wooyoung bursts out laughing, “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, actually. This is a portal.”

“A portal? To where?” you ask, peering at the stone. It doesn’t look like any portal you’ve ever seen.

“Want to find out?” he offers a hand for you to take, and you grab it warily.

He places his other hand on the stone, and its magic instantly pulls you through the atmosphere, sending you spiraling toward an unknown destination.

When you land, your feet hit the damp cobblestone street with a soft thud. The air smells of rain and baked goods, and you take in the bustling scene around you—witches and warlocks are flowing in and out of quaint little shops that line both sides of the road, their chatter filling the air. The street is alive with energy, and everything looks both foreign and strangely charming.

Before you can fully absorb it all, Wooyoung tugs you along, his grip firm as your head swivels, trying to figure out exactly where you’ve been transported to. The unfamiliar cityscape seems like a dream, its details slipping through your grasp as you hurry to keep up.

Suddenly, you collide with his back, not realizing he has stopped. "Ouch," you mutter, rubbing your nose in surprise. You’re about to say more when something above catches your eye—the sign swinging in the breeze.

"Trahana’s Tomb!" you squeal, excitement bubbling up. For ages, you've wanted to visit this place, but something always got in the way. Now, here it is, right in front of you, and the thrill of finally arriving sends a rush through you.

Trahana is a renowned sorceress and writer known for her vast collection of grimoires, enchanted artifacts, and other rare occult items—many of which are now on display and for sale at her legendary store. You've been itching to get your hands on her coveted Book of Arcane Beasts, a tome filled with forbidden knowledge of magical creatures, their histories, and untold powers.

Wooyoung holds the door open for you, and without a second thought, you dash inside. Your eyes widen as you take in the towering shelves crammed with both ancient and new books. Every corner of the shop is overflowing with enchanted curiosities.

At the back of the shop, a narrow, spiraling staircase catches your eye. It likely leads to an upper level filled with even more treasures waiting to be explored. The thought of what might be hidden beyond tempts you, adding to the growing sense of wonder.

"Oh, my sweet, evil boy! How are you?"

You turn to see a tall, elegant woman pinching Wooyoung’s cheeks with an affectionate grin.

He swats her hands away, groaning, "Aunt Hana, you know I hate when you do that. I’m not five anymore."

She laughs, unbothered by his protest. "Oh, you'll always be the stubborn young warlock playing with the Acheron Configuration upstairs even when told it was off limits," she teases, her eyes twinkling with the memory. “Goddess knows how many hours you spent trying to crack that spell.”

She shifts her gaze to you, giving you a quick once-over before raising an eyebrow. "Don’t be rude, Wooyoung. Introduce me to your friend."

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, "Forgive me. This is Y/N, another student at Onyx Academy. Y/N, meet Trahana, the curator of this fine establishment and, unfortunately, my insufferable aunt."

Trahana smirks, ignoring his jab. "Charmed, I’m sure," she says, her eyes glinting with curiosity as she sizes you up.

"I need to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, darling," Trahana says with a warm smile, her voice dripping with a mix of elegance and mystery. She gives you one last appraising look before turning away, her long robes sweeping the floor as she glides effortlessly toward the front of the store. The air feels lighter without her presence, yet the sense of power she carries lingers, leaving you a little awestruck.

You gape at him once she’s out of earshot. "She’s your aunt?"

Wooyoung sighs, nodding with exaggerated patience. "Yes, I’m painfully aware."

"That’s so cool. So you spent a lot of time here growing up?" you ask, curious to learn more about him.

"Yeah," Wooyoung replies, glancing around the shop with a hint of nostalgia. "My parents traveled a lot for business when I was younger, so this place became like a second home. Now, I come back whenever I need a break from school. Plus, it’s a great place to study; there's something peaceful about the chaos here compared to the eerie silence of Onyx Academy’s library."

"That makes sense," you say, nodding as your fingers trail across the spines of the old books lining the tight aisle. The dust, the energy, and the soft hum of magic in the air make the shop feel alive, the perfect contrast to the academy’s cold, quiet halls. "I can see why you'd find this place comforting."

Wooyoung smiles, clearly more relaxed here than you've ever seen him. "It’s got a strange kind of charm, doesn’t it?" he says, his voice softer now as the two of you meander through the maze of shelves, discovering little pieces of history with every step.

He allows you to explore the shelves, letting you dive into the books that capture your interest. As you lean down to examine the aged pages, he watches as a loose strand of hair slips across your face, and you absently tuck it behind your ear.

"Can I show you something?" he asks, gently drawing you away from the book that’s captivated your attention.

You glance up at him, and to your surprise, he almost seems nervous. It’s a rare sight for someone who usually exudes such confidence. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, making you curious about what he wants to show you.

Nodding, you allow him to lead you toward another bookshelf two aisles away from where you were just standing. His gaze flicks across the titles, searching for something specific.

"Ah, here it is," he finally says, lifting his arm to reveal a book with a deep blue spine. You hear a soft click as he pulls it out slightly, followed by a faint unlocking sound. With a practiced motion, he shifts down to another shelf and pulls out a book with a green spine. To your astonishment, the entire bookcase creaks ominously before revealing a secret door.

"This whole day just keeps getting stranger by the minute. Is this another portal?" you ask, a mix of skepticism and humor in your voice.

Wooyoung grins playfully. "As entertaining as that would be, no. It’s not a portal. It’s my secret place."

You turn to look at him. "See, now that’s kind of worse. Now I really don’t want to go in." The idea of stepping into his hidden sanctuary feels more daunting than the prospect of another magical journey.

He gives you a look.

“Okay, fine. In I go,” you say, taking a step closer before reaching for the cold handle. As you turn it and push the door open, you peer into the darkness beyond, straining to gauge what lies within. And, if you have to be completely honest, wondering why it needs to be hidden away.

Wooyoung steps inside after you, snapping his fingers to conjure his magic. A bright orb of light flickers to life, glowing softly at first. As he guides it upward, it gradually brightens and rises to the center of the room, illuminating the hidden space with a warm, inviting glow. The walls are revealed and adorned with eclectic decorations and mysterious photographs, creating an enchanting and haunting atmosphere.

"What is this place?" you ask, your curiosity piqued as you step closer to a nearby table and spot a stack of photographs. You pick up the first few, admiring the artistic shots of a plant you recognize from your walks through the Darkwood—it's a Moonset Fern, captured in full bloom. You remember learning about it in Herbology 101 last year; it’s renowned for its ability to protect against ill-will spells.

Intrigued, you skim through the rest of the stack. Each photo showcases different plants, all with potent herbal properties, their images so carefully composed they almost seem to pulse with hidden power.

“So,” Wooyoung says nervously, “What do you think?”

“Of the photographs? I think they’re beautiful. You took these?” He nods. “I didn’t know you had an interest in photography. Or Herbology, for that matter.”

"It’s a secret interest. Obviously," Wooyoung says, gesturing around the room to emphasize his point. "Unfortunately, Father Blackmoor thinks it’s a complete waste of time. To him, this is the work of a lesser warlock." The distaste is evident in his voice, like the words themselves leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "He’d rather I focus on proving my potential to become the youngest Anti-Pope."

"Do you believe him?" you ask, watching his reaction closely.

"Am I even allowed to believe any different?" he replies, his tone a mix of resignation and defiance. He picks up a different stack of photos and flips through them, each holding a distant memory of a time he felt genuine joy.

"Part of me wishes I wasn’t destined for this life—that I had the power to shape my own future," Wooyoung admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotion. "But then the other half of me hates myself for even thinking like that, especially after everything my family has sacrificed to get me here." His gaze drops, the weight of expectation clearly pressing down on him, caught between desire and duty.

“No one in the history of The Church of Night has ever turned down a position of power once they've received the proper training and hold the necessary status,” he continues, his tone growing darker. "I can’t even imagine the consequences of rejecting something like that." The mere thought seems to weigh on him, defying centuries of tradition would unravel everything—not just for him, but for everyone tied to his legacy.

“That’s a frustrating position to be forced into. Though, I hate to admit I’m jealous.”

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours, confusion and a flicker of anger etched across his face.

"I’ve spent my whole life not knowing what my future will look like," you begin, your voice tight with emotion. “I have all this power, yet no one can explain why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t have even the slightest clue where I’ll end up in life, so yeah, from that standpoint, I am a bit jealous of your situation," you admit, a hint of envy creeping into your voice.

As you speak, the anger in his expression gradually fades, replaced by a quiet understanding. His features soften, and you can see him truly considering your words, letting them sink in.

"At least you have a clear path laid out for you, even if it’s not exactly what you want. I’m still stumbling around, trying to figure out what my purpose even is. But even then..." your tone softens slightly, "If I were you, I wouldn’t let my sense of duty smother the passion I feel for another study—even if it’s an uncommon path for someone in my position.”

You begin again, your voice steady with conviction, "The Dark Lord wouldn’t have put this path in front of you if there wasn’t something here worth discovering. I’d bet there’s a connection between each path, and maybe, just maybe, you’re meant to do something with both. Something no one else has thought of yet.”

Wooyoung hadn’t thought of that.

“That’s just my two cents,” you sigh, setting the photos down and walking over to the next table with hundreds more to look through.

One photo in the middle of the pile catches your eye, standing out in a way the others don’t. You can’t quite place the plant; it’s unfamiliar, yet stirs a sense of deep nostalgia. It’s a rich olive green, with spiny stems and sharply pointed leaves giving it a menacing look. But what truly captivates you is the ethereal purple aura surrounding it, shimmering faintly, like the plant itself is alive with ancient magic. Something about it feels important, though you can’t recall ever seeing it before.

"It’s a Ghost Violaceae," Wooyoung murmurs softly, leaning in close over your shoulder. His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice slightly raspy. "It’s commonly used in the art of seduction." His words hang in the air, as mysterious as the plant itself, and the subtle intensity in his tone makes the air between you suddenly feel different.

Wooyoung would do unspeakable things to know the thoughts swirling in your mind right now. He’s desperate to unravel what it is that made you blush so fiercely, what’s causing your heart to race and your breath to quicken.

You turn slightly, looking up at him with your lips parted. Wooyoung tilts his head, his eyes sparkling as he tries to decipher the emotions playing across your face. There's a flicker of curiosity in your gaze, his focus sharpening as he leans in just a fraction closer…

The sudden ringing of a timer blares through the silence, startling you both. Your head snaps toward the sound and you see a stopwatch floating in midair, its rhythmic ticking a clear reminder that your time is almost up. It’s time to return to Onyx Academy to prepare for your next session with Yeosang.

Beside you, Wooyoung tenses, the atmosphere immediately changing. The warmth in his eyes vanishes as quickly as it has surfaced, replaced by the cold, guarded demeanor he typically fronts. His walls shoot back up, and just like that, the brief vulnerability between you disappears.

Blair eyes you curiously, her black feathers ruffled while she senses the secret you’re holding back. She’s perched on a low branch, watching as you wait beneath the cascading limbs of the Weeping Willow. You’ve arrived early, not finding any solace in the silence of your room after returning to campus. Yeosang should be here any minute, but the unease from earlier lingers.

Wooyoung had barely spoken after the stopwatch appeared, his mood darkening as he grudgingly led you back to the portal. He rushed you through without a word, his steps heavy with frustration, and stormed off toward the church once back on school grounds without so much as a goodbye.

You’ve been trying to clear your mind, focusing your energy on the upcoming session with Yeosang, but the tension from Wooyoung still simmers under the surface. You take a deep breath, determined to push it aside and give Yeosang your full attention. He deserves it.

Blair lets out a sharp caw before taking off into the sky, disappearing into the distance as soon as she senses his presence. She knows to give you your privacy, leaving you alone just as he approaches.

“Oh, you’re here already,” Yeosang says, a bit surprised to see you already by the willows. He steps forward, his happy expression growing as he extends a bouquet of dried wine-colored roses, elegantly tied with a black ribbon.

“These are for you.”

Your breath catches at the sight of them. "These are gorgeous. Thank you—wow," you say, smiling while gently taking the bouquet from his hands. The gesture feels intimate, the deep red petals catching the light as you admire them, warmth blooming in your chest at the unexpected kindness.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to apparate them to your room?” Yeosang suggests.

“That’s a good idea, actually,” you reply, lifting the bouquet in front of you. With a soft hum, you recite the incantation, watching as the flowers shimmer and disappear, transporting them to your bedside table in an instant.

“There,” you smile, “Now they’ll be waiting for me when I get back.”

“We have a short walk to our destination. If you’ll follow me?” Yeosang guides you up a path behind the willow grove, the incline leading to a breathtaking view of the Darkwood below. The forest stretches endlessly, its shadowy canopy glittering with ancient magic.

"Do you mind waiting here?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nerves flickering across his face. "I thought I'd have a little more time to set things up."

You smile softly. "I don’t mind at all."

Relieved, he excuses himself, disappearing back down the trail to retrieve whatever surprise he has planned. The minutes pass in peaceful quiet, the cool air brushing against your skin. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment, until a faint rustling behind you interrupts the calm energy. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, and shrug it off—probably just the wind.

But then, movement at the edge of the tree line catches your eye, a shadowy figure slipping between the trees.

You step cautiously toward the movement, your heart beating a little faster with each quiet footstep. The air seems to thicken as you approach, a soft rustling continuing just beyond the nearest tree. You steady yourself, taking a slow breath before rounding the massive trunk.

Face to face with the culprit, you freeze—a pair of wide, curious eyes staring back at you. It's a small, ethereal creature, almost like a fox but with wisps of glowing mist trailing from its fur. Its translucent body shimmers faintly under the dappled light filtering through the trees.

You exhale in relief, it’s just another familiar. The creature’s gentle gaze is more inquisitive than threatening; and she tilts her head, trying to decide whether to flee or come closer, her silver eyes studying you with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature soon takes off, before you have a chance to ask who they belong to.

As you turn around, a startled cry escapes your lips—Wooyoung is standing just inches from you, his presence completely unexpected.

"What are you doing here?" you snap, your hand instinctively flying to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart.

"I'm not really here. Just astral projecting. And who’s to say I wasn’t here first?"

You cross your arms, glaring at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I wasn’t here first," he concedes with a shrug, his smirk faltering under your withering stare.

"Yeosang is going to be back any second," you warn, narrowing your eyes. "Are you here to spy on us?"

"Pfff... no..." he says, though the lack of conviction in his voice makes you roll your eyes.

"Lame," you mutter, watching his poorly veiled attempt at denial fall apart. He shifts awkwardly under your gaze, clearly caught.

“I don’t like that you’re alone with him.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I. Don’t. Share.”

“You can’t be serious,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Is this just some kind of game? Are you playing with me because you don’t want Yeosang to have me? What is it, Wooyoung? You haven’t given me a second thought until two days ago.”

“It’s not like that—" Wooyoung starts, but the sound of rustling interrupts him, cutting his sentence short. Both of you turn, startled, as Yeosang emerges from the trees. His eyes sweep the clearing, looking for you since you aren’t standing where he left you. When he spots you, he smiles and approaches, carrying a woven basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.

You glance back toward Wooyoung, but he’s already vanished. Typical, slipping away before finishing what he started. Maybe he’s glad for the escape before you can grill him any further.

“Looking for something?”

‘More like someone,’ you think to yourself. “Oh sorry, I thought I saw a familiar, but it ran off,” you explain, brushing off the awkward moment. “So, what’s all this?” You gesture to the basket, quickly shifting the conversation before Yeosang has a chance to ask anything.

He grins, glancing down at his hands, a bit shy. "I hope you like picnics. I thought we could enjoy some treats and maybe get to know each other better."

“That sounds lovely,” you reply warmly.

Yeosang carefully picks a spot, spreading the blanket and the two of you sit side by side, the breathtaking view of the Darkwood stretching out below. There’s something serene about the quiet between you, the moment brimming with peaceful anticipation.

He sets the basket in front of you, lifting the lid to reveal an array of colorful sweets, the soft glow of the late afternoon sun reflecting off the glass jars inside. You notice delicate pastries, chocolates, and sugared fruits arranged neatly.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I brought a little of everything,” Yeosang says, his voice low but sincere.

Your heart warms at the gesture. "You’ve really outdone yourself,” you praise, picking up one of the pastries for yourself and offering another to him.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to bring up the scroll from yesterday. "I didn’t want to pry, but you left in such a rush yesterday. Was everything alright?" you ask before taking a bite.

Yeosang chuckles softly, as if amused by the memory. "Funny you should ask. Turns out, when I arrived at Father Blackmoor’s office, he had no idea what I was talking about. No urgent scroll was sent for me. But he thought it was good timing and wanted to discuss my plans for after I complete my time at the academy."

Your curiosity piques further. "And those plans are...?" you press, hoping he’ll open up.

Yeosang hesitates briefly, but then, with a slight smile, he reveals, "I’d like to teach, maybe. My father was a teacher, and he always said I had the same qualities. Plus, I love kids. I think teaching them the basics of magic—the very foundation of what they'll need for the rest of their lives—would be important work."

A soft breeze ruffles the edges of the blanket, and you can’t help but smile at his answer. "That sounds perfect for you. I can already picture you as a great mentor."

The rest of your evening with Yeosang flies by in a blur of conversation and quiet moments spent enjoying the view. Before you know it, he's walking you back to the dormitories. He hesitates as you both stop outside the door to the girls' dorms, clearly lingering on something unsaid.

"I just want you to know," he starts, shifting nervously, "that regardless of what happens tomorrow at the Matching Ceremony, I had a lovely time tonight. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Before you can respond, he leans down and presses a soft kiss on your cheek. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” back, still caught in the trance from the warmth of his lips against your skin. As you make your way up to your room, your heart feels light, and you can’t help but smile even wider when you notice the flowers he gave you earlier—now arranged beautifully in a vase on your nightstand.

But something else catches your eye—a small, glimmering box sitting on your bed, illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. You walk over to it and find a note attached in handwriting you immediately recognize.

Not a game to me – W

Your breath hitches as you find the book you had been eyeing earlier—the one Wooyoung had distracted you from in Trahana’s shop—alongside the newest edition of The Book of Arcane Beasts. Tucked neatly between the pages are a few of the photographs from his secret room; the ones you had admired without realizing he noticed.

Your heart races as you hold the items in your hands, the meaning of his gesture sinking in. It’s not just a game. Whatever this is with Wooyoung, it’s something real. And now, you're more conflicted than ever.

Yeosang steps closer to the flames that surge in the iron vessel before him, casting flickering shadows across his face while he waits. If you look closely, shapes begin to form within the flames, dancing and twisting as though something is being forged in the heat. A sudden flare of sparks erupts from the fire—it's ready.

With a steady hand, he pulls an envelope from the fire. The edges of the paper are still smoldering while he opens it with precision, watching as the magic ink slowly manifests on the paper, revealing a name.

You notice a brief, almost imperceptible frown cross his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Polly Petrify,” he announces smoothly, his voice steady, betraying nothing as he steps back into place.

Father Blackmoor gives a solemn nod, signaling his approval of the pairing.

The Church is packed for the Matching Ceremony, and a mix of excitement and nervous energy ripples through the crowd. The warlocks stand in front of the filled pews, their postures rigid and unreadable, while the witches occupy the first two rows of seats, eyes flickering with anticipation.

You sit among them, your heart sinking as Yeosang’s name is paired with another witch. The knot in your chest tightens, but before you have time to register how you truly feel, Wooyoung steps forward.

It’s his turn.

Time stretches unbearably as his fingers hover over the glowing envelope that emerges from the flames. He grasps it carefully, tearing it open before pulling out the slip of paper, the suspense in the room thickening with every second.

At least a dozen witches sit in eager anticipation, each one hopeful, their eyes flicking toward the altar, silently praying that their name will be the one called.

You watch his face intently, almost holding your breath.

The moment he reads the name, a subtle smile curls at the corner of his lips, making him look effortlessly gorgeous. His inky black hair falls in perfect disarray, and the deep blue sweater he’s wearing brings out a distinctive glimmer in his eyes—it’s definitely his color.

As he steps back in line to let the next warlock take their turn, you realize that you completely missed whose name he just called. You’ve been too busy gawking to notice. Leaning toward the witch beside you, you whisper, “Whose name did he say?”

She shoots you a scowl and snaps, “Yours.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your gaze whips back up front. Wooyoung catches your eye and quickly winks, the gesture playful yet it’s enough to send a wave of heat rushing through you. Your pulse races and every nerve in your body is suddenly aware of his presence. The world around you fades for a second, the reality of the situation sinking in—he chose you.

It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. Your chest tightens, and it’s taking every ounce of control not to claw at your neck in search of air. You can’t tell if your racing heart is a sign of excitement, fear, or a mixture of both.

The pairing results swirl through your mind as you try to process how you feel about Wooyoung having been paired with you. You know that the warlocks have some say in their pairing preference, but the decision is ultimately up to Father Blackmoor and The Dark Lord.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now—you have a performance to focus on. As the rest of the ceremony wraps up, the witches, including yourself, are expected to sing I Put A Spell On You.

You walk up to the front of the church with the other witches, your heart still hammering in your chest. You can feel Wooyoung’s gaze searing into you from across the room, but you refuse to meet his eyes. You know that if you do, you’ll stumble over the lyrics or worse, completely forget your part.

With every note of the song, you force yourself to remain composed. Your voice blends with the others, the melody haunting, filling the ancient church with an enchanting resonance. The weight of his stare lingers, but you resist the pull until the very end. Only when the final note fades and you’re walking back to your seat do you glance his way. His eyes are still on you, but there’s something different about his expression now—intense, unreadable.

Father Blackmoor steps forward as the ceremony winds down, his voice ringing through the dimly lit room. “Remember, paired witches and warlocks are strictly forbidden from seeing each other until tomorrow evening when you’ll all meet in the Darkwood for the Moon Ritual. Ghoul evening to you all.”

The church stirs with hushed whispers and rustling bodies as everyone begins to disperse. But you remain in place for a moment, your mind tangled in the events that have unfolded. Tomorrow promises even more mystery, and the thought of it sends another shiver down your spine.

You follow the large group down the path toward the heart of the academy’s campus, their excited chatter buzzing in the crisp evening air. But as they veer toward the dining hall, you quietly part ways, taking steps in the opposite direction toward a different building.

The heavy wooden doors creak as you push them open, and the familiar scent of ancient tomes and aged parchment envelops you.

The sanctum, the private library for advanced students like yourself, is nearly deserted tonight, making it the perfect place to find peace in the aftermath of the ceremony. The usual hum of magic is calming and the near-silence offers a much-needed space to clear your mind.

You make your way to the Demonology section, where the dim light and towering shelves create a cocoon of solitude. Finding an empty seat, you settle in, snapping your fingers to summon your books. In an instant, they materialize on the table before you, pages full of dark knowledge waiting to be absorbed.

Despite it being Lupercalia season, the academic grind doesn’t stop. Your upcoming exams loom over you like a dark cloud, and no amount of supernatural matchmaking will change that.

You run your fingers over the spines of your books, mentally preparing yourself to dive into study mode. The familiar words of your Demonology texts are grounding, a reminder of the discipline and focus you need to maintain.

The sanctum is quiet tonight, only the soft sound of pages turning and the occasional whispered incantation breaking the silence. You try to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wooyoung—his voice, his gaze, the gift he left in your room. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts aside. There will be time for all that later. For now, you need to concentrate.

Time passes and after finishing a few chapters, you glance at your watch, eyes widening in surprise. Three hours have flown by. Blair is going to be furious that you’re late to feed her. Scribbling down a final note, you snap your fingers, sending your books back to your room before heading out of the sanctum.

As you step outside, you collide with someone. "Oh, I’m so sorry!" you stammer, glancing up to apologize, only to be met with familiar eyes twinkling beneath tousled black hair.

Wooyoung.

“You’re forgiven,” he says smoothly.

"We’re not supposed to see each other," you remind him, taking a cautious step back.

He tilts his head, smirking too, just like he always does. "I know, but you skipped dinner, and there’s something I’ve been dying to do since yesterday."

"What? Stalk me some more?" you quip, feeling a rare surge of confidence.

His smirk spreads into a full smile, and to your delight, he chuckles—a sound you’ve secretly grown to love. Your heart pounds faster.

"You wish," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming as he steps closer. The intensity in his gaze feels almost magnetic, as if he's looking right through you, straight into your soul. His nostrils flare with a sharp exhale, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he takes yet another step closer.

He doesn't answer. Instead, with one smooth motion, he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. His touch is firm, but there’s a softness to the way his fingers splay across your back. You feel your pulse quicken, your breath hitching in your throat.

“This is breaking the rules,” you whisper, trying to find an ounce of self-control to step out of his embrace.

His proximity overwhelms your senses—the warmth of his body, the way his breath tickles your skin, and the undeniable connection crackling between you two. He tilts his head slightly, the smirk on his lips fading into something more serious, more dangerous.

“I don’t break the rules, I just bend them,” he rasps, his voice low and teasing, right before he closes the space between you. The moment his lips brush against yours, you freeze, caught off guard by the softness, the tenderness as he coaxes you into responding. His mouth moves gently, skillfully, as if testing the waters, daring you to give in.

A frenzy stirs inside you, an electric current surging through your veins. Your hands instinctively move to frame his face, your fingers sliding along the sharp lines of his jaw before tangling in his soft, messy hair. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every second as you press yourself closer to him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

You can’t get enough; the taste of him, the way his breath mingles with yours, and the undeniable pull that has your body responding before your mind can catch up. His other hand slides under your shirt and up your spine, anchoring you to him as if he never wants to let go.

Wooyoung mumbles an incantation against your lips before tickling the corners with his tongue. You’re too distracted to recall what he said, especially when you feel it.

Heat begins to radiate from his fingers, searing into your skin. It flows through your body until it hits your sweet spot, pooling dangerously between your legs.

You gasp against his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to dip his tongue inside, swallowing your moans as you let them slip out. Pressing your legs together, you try to find any sort of friction, aching for something to relieve the growing pressure.

A sinful sound vibrates from his chest when you bite down on his lower lip ever so gently. You have to admit, the thought of kissing him has crossed your mind more times than you can count. But now, standing here with the taste of him on your lips, you realize the reality is so much better than anything your imagination could have conjured.

He’s more intoxicating than any dream could ever be. Every touch sends a thrill through you that no fantasy could ever match. The way he knows exactly what you like leaves you yearning for more in a way that feels almost addictive.

Blair caws, cutting through the shadows of the night and announcing her arrival with impeccable timing. You both jolt, breaking apart as if the spell between you has been abruptly shattered.

“Ghoul evening, Blair,” Wooyoung mutters, his voice still thick with the lingering tension. He glances at the raven-like figure perched nearby, an amused glint flickering in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he adds, his tone teasing. He looks down at you, pleased with how dissolved your shirt looks, how pouty your wet lips are from your nefarious activities.

He takes a step back, quickly smoothing down his hair and adjusting his clothes, his fingers lingering at his collar as he regains his usual composure. You, on the other hand, are still catching your breath, feeling the flush in your cheeks and the electric hum of the moment that lingers in the space between you.

Give me a little privacy to say goodbye, and I’ll give you extra treats for your late dinner, you say telepathically to Blair. She tilts her head, considering the offer, before finally cawing in agreement and taking off into the night, clearly satisfied with the deal.

“I want you to try something tonight,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice low and full of mischief. His eyes glint with something dark and thrilling, sending a shiver down your spine. “When you’re alone in bed and everyone else is asleep…”

Your heart races while he speaks.

“I want you to pretend that your hands are my own, and I want you to touch yourself where you felt my magic earlier.”

“E-excuse me?” you stammer, your heart racing as you try to find the right words.

He grins, leaning in just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” he teases, his voice like velvet. “I need you to warm yourself up for me, so you’re ready to learn more tomorrow night. Will you do that for me?”

You nod, a shiver running across your skin as his words linger in the air.

“Now, get out of here and go feed Blair before you wake up tomorrow missing your eyes,” he adds with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a smile. “Fine, see you later.”

“Yes, you will,” he says with a wink, watching as you turn to leave, his gaze heavy on you the entire way.

His words linger in your mind for the rest of the night.

It's now the witching hour, and your roommates are fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the potion you slipped into their bedtime tea. They never noticed the subtle, earthy undertones masking the spell’s effects, leaving them in a deep slumber for the next several hours.

It had to be done, the last thing you need is for one of them to wake and catch you in the act, especially while you're carrying out Wooyoung’s special request.

Under the safety of your blankets, you move quietly, as if any sudden movement could betray your secret. One hand begins to massage your breasts through your thin tank top, the other sliding down toward your pink panties.

Taking a deep breath, you open your legs, allowing your fingers to slip beneath the dampening fabric. After spreading your juices around, you rub your clit before slowly dipping your first finger into your slick entrance. The sensation is unfamiliar—neither bad nor uncomfortable, just something you're not used to. The pain of the stretch lingers, leaving a strange warmth that you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and pretend that Wooyoung is there with you. Swiftly, you begin to curl your fingers, simultaneously bucking into your hand. You picture him hovering over you, but the image clouds over, shifting into a different scene that becomes sharper.

Wooyoung is also in bed, with his hand wrapped around his exposed, thick cock, lazily pumping it. There’s something unsettlingly vivid about this image, as if it’s not just a product of your imagination. It feels real—too real. Gasping, you realize that he’s in your head, projecting himself, revealing his presence in a way that makes your heart race.

Then, as if he can sense that you've finally caught on to his wicked scheme, a dark smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes your body’s temperature spike. “Are you touching yourself, like I asked you to?”

You suck in a sharp breath and nod instinctively, even though you know he can’t physically see you. But somehow, you sense that he knows.

“I bet you are,” he hums, closing his eyes while running his thumb over his pink head. He tosses his head back as he strokes himself, “I bet that tight little virgin cunt of yours needs some good stretching before she’s ready for me.”

Feeling the heat rising to the tips of your ears, they’re red from the weight of his words, like they’re wrapping themselves around you, pulling you deeper into his influence. The knot in your lower belly grows as you match your little finger thrusts to the speed of his hand pumps.

“Add another finger, honey, I know you can,” Wooyoung groans, his hand moving a little faster. “Look at how my cock aches to be sunk inside your sweet folds.”

You do as he commands. You’re panting at this point; completely zeroed in on his throbbing length while you climb towards bliss. The silent room fills with a sinful pattern of squelches from each thrust into your lush heat, and a divine sensation washes over you.

“Goddess, I’m about to make a mess,” he whines, a sound that you’ll never be able to forget. He stills, letting out another beautiful noise while his seed shoots out across his abs, some even on his dark silk sheets.

“That’s just a preview,” he grins devilishly, “Sleep well, Y/N.”

"Many blessings," Father Blackmoor's voice rings out, reverberating through the towering trees of the Darkwood. "Tonight, we honor the Moon and her radiant beauty. Paired couples, please step forward to collect your basket."

You step forward cautiously, aware of Wooyoung’s presence close behind you. As your fingers brush the edge of the woven basket, Wooyoung’s arm reaches past you, his hand closing around it first. His body hovers briefly against yours, a faint smile curving his lips. Sucking in a sharp breath, you pull your hand back as your mind flashes back to last night, Wooyoung’s cock is still fresh in your mind.

"Each basket contains a ceremonial knife," Father Blackmoor continues, his tone solemn. "You will begin the rite by smearing your blood upon your partner's forehead. Then, you must drink the purification potion—the milky-colored vial—and consume the figs, symbolizing your unity. Under the moonlight, you will lie side by side until dawn, as a testament to your bond and in preparation for tomorrow’s Hunt."

His final words hang in the cool night air as the forest seems to hush in reverence for what’s to come. You glance up at Wooyoung, and his eyes are already on you, dark and unreadable, only reflecting the moonlight.

As the other couples start to spread out across the forest, Wooyoung’s hand finds yours, tugging you deeper into the woods. His steps are quiet, purposeful, as the towering trees close in around you both. Your attention snaps forward when you catch a glimpse of movement—there, not far ahead, the same fox-like creature you spotted by the willows. The realization dawns on you: it’s Wooyoung’s familiar.

The creature moves gracefully, leading the way through the underbrush, its magical fur shimmering under the pale moonlight. Wooyoung follows without hesitation, his gaze fixed on his familiar. You trail behind, curiosity building, as the creature guides you to a secluded clearing hidden deep in the Darkwood.

“Thank you, Vixen,” Wooyoung murmurs once you’ve arrived. The fox-like familiar halts briefly, then glimmers before fading into the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers that slowly dissipate into the night.

Your eyes scan the clearing, and you notice the scene in front of you—a circle of softly flickering candles arranged around a blanket spread across the forest floor. The air hums with quiet magic, thick with mystery and anticipation. Wooyoung turns to you, his eyes glinting in the candlelight, a mischievous yet unreadable expression crossing his face.

Wooyoung extends his hand to you, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you step onto the soft blanket. With a single snap of his fingers, your clothes transform—yours into a sheer white nightgown, his into simple black pants, with his chest left bare, the candlelight casting shadows over his defined muscles.

“Ready to begin?” he asks, voice low, eyes holding a flicker of something dangerous yet enticing.

You nod, your breath catching for a moment. Reaching into the basket set down beside him, your fingers curl around the cool metal of the ceremonial blade. Together, your voices join in a low, rhythmic chant, weaving through the night air. The ritual words hang heavy between you as you press the blade to your finger, feeling the sharp sting as blood wells up. Stepping closer, you bring your hand to his forehead, smearing an upside-down cross on his tanned skin, the blood vivid against his complexion.

Without a word, you hand the blade to Wooyoung, your fingers brushing his in the exchange. He mimics your actions, the cool sting of the knife barely registering as he pricks his finger, marking your forehead with the same crimson anti-cross. The flames around you leap higher, responding to the magic building in your chant.

The moonlight glistens against his skin, bathing him in an ethereal glow as he lifts the purification potion from the basket. He drinks deeply, eyes never leaving yours, and then hands the vial to you. You take it from him, your pulse quickening as you lift it to your lips, the magic binding you both growing stronger with each word, each action.

His eyes darken; trailing over your nearly naked body. They land on your peaked nipples, and he lets out a deep exhale while his eyes are glued in place.

“Um, figs,” Wooyoung clears his throat, momentarily dazed, shaking his head as if to regain focus. He grabs one from the basket, handing you the other. You sink your teeth into the fruit’s tender skin, its bright red flesh spilling a sweet, rich juice onto your lips. A single drop escapes and trails down your chin, and you catch Wooyoung watching, his gaze lingering longer than usual. But he doesn’t say a word. Not yet.

You quickly wipe away the juice, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck. “So… what now?” you ask, your voice more uncertain than you intended. You’ve both completed the ritual, but the tension between you is undeniable. Neither of you has acknowledged last night’s activities, though you’re certain it’ll come up eventually. It has to.

He shifts slightly, his eyes scanning your face, and for a moment, it seems like he’s about to bring it up. His lips twitch into a half-smile, “I’ve got an idea or two.”

You’re not sure how it happened—one moment you’re standing, the next you’re lying beneath him. Wooyoung hovers above you, his arms on either side of your head, eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. His body is close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and your pulse quickens as his breath brushes against your skin.

Without notice, his lips crash down onto yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, moaning when your hands twist in his hair.

He presses his hips down into yours, letting you feel how worked up he’s already become.

“We're technically not supposed to do anything tonight,” Wooyoung says, his voice low and teasing once he pulls back. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he adds, “But a rule’s never stopped me before.”

You pull his head back down to yours, kissing him languishingly as he rolls his hips into yours again.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, this time pressing his length right up against your covered heat.

Wooyoung’s lips curl into a devilish smile when you whine incoherently about wanting more.

“Answer me, honey. Do you want more?” He asks with a growl, but the intensity in his gaze makes it clear—he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” you beg, “More. Please!”

He grabs handfuls of the fabric at your sides, bunching it up around your waist before he descends below.

Your dewy center is covered in a heavy coating of your arousal. Spellbound by the sight, he instinctively brings his fingers to your heat, gathering some of your transparent essence and smearing it around your folds.

“Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Wooyoung mutters.

Incapable of waiting any longer, he dives in tongue first, licking a beautiful line from your slit’s opening up to your needy nub of nerves. Another growl resounds from his chest as he devours your sex, his cock involuntarily twitching when he sinks two fingers back to your opening. Wooyoung strokes his saturated fingers through your slit before sinking them inside your soft flesh, feeling your inner walls clench around them.

He pulls them out and admires how your hole instinctively sucks his digits back in where they belong.

“Such a tight little cunt. It’ll be ruined by tomorrow night,” Wooyoung groans; despite his words, there’s nothing but appraisal in his voice. He looks up at your body, meeting your eyes. His flash with a dark dominance, lust with a dash of something else flicker in them.

His devilish words only excite you further, and more of your sticky arousal coats his hand. Each curl of his fingers brings you closer and closer to writhing pleasure.

His head dips back down, his tongue swirling around your clit before he sucks it between his teeth. Gasping, you buck your hips upward, needing more. So much more.

“I can’t wait to turn you into a nasty little whore. Would you like that?” he asks in between little licks.

“Y-yes” you mewl. “Wanna. Be your w-whore.”

He’s got you dancing along the edge of a very dangerous cliff, and you want nothing more than to jump off, face first, and dive into the waves of ecstasy that await.

He can tell that you’re close; your walls are beginning to tighten around him. Flattening his tongue against your sensitive nub, he applies the right amount of pressure you need to come all over his face.

When he sits up, his mouth is dribbling with your release; it’s a pretty sight to see.

“Not bad for a virgin,” he teases.

Your blissful smile turns coy, “Is it my turn to taste you? You’ll have to teach this virgin just how you like it.”

A deep, low growl vibrates in his chest and the corners of his jaw flex as he stands up, his silhouette outlined from the moonlight.

“On your knees then, slut.”

You twist your body until you’re sitting on your knees, your used cunt dripping onto the blanket below.

“Goddess, I’m so fucking hard for you,” Wooyoung grunts while pulling his pants down.

Freed from his pants, his cock springs out before bouncing momentarily, then stands erect in its full glory. You reflexively clench at the sight of him. It’s just as you remember it from last night.

Tightening his palm around his shaft, Wooyoung begins stroking himself before lining his tip up to your lips.

“Take just the head into your mouth,” he murmurs. “Just while you warm up to the feeling.”

You immediately wrap your mouth around him and a wave of precum leaks directly onto your tongue. Circling his thick tip, you get comfortable with the weight of him on your tongue, learning his taste.

“Such a good slut,” Wooyoung croons, causing your core to tremble from his praises.

One hand moves to hold your chin, angling your head to look up at him, “When you’re ready for more, take a deep breath and take in more of me.”

Hollowing your cheeks, you suckle on his head, letting more and more of him into your wet cave. You run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, the tickling sensation causing him to jerk inside you.

Wooyoung tugs on your hair, softly at first, and then his fist wraps around the handful in his grasp. His impressive length fills your mouth, his immense girth cracking your jaw open with each gentle thrust.

Words of encouragement spill from his lips, giving you the confidence to suck in the final inch of his member.

Involuntarily, you gag around his cock when his thick head hits the back of your throat. Tears sting the corner of your eyes, falling soon after.

Without warning, his length surges into your throat and Wooyoung lets out a stream of colorful expletives as his release hits him. His hips jerk once more, and he tosses his head back underneath the moonlight.

You shudder, feeling his thick cum stick to the walls of your throat.

“Goddess,” he hums, “Sorry about that.” Wooyoung slips out of your mouth, admiring as you use the back of your hand, you wipe your soddened mouth.

“It’s okay. Now I know what to expect.”

Wooyoung pulls you into his embrace, and you both settle into the quiet rhythm of the night, staring up at the stars as they shimmer in the sky. His warmth surrounds you, grounding you amidst the cool breeze.

He shifts slightly, turning on the blanket to meet your gaze. “I need to warn you about tomorrow,” he begins, his voice lower, more serious. “The potion we warlocks take before the ceremony… it makes our animalistic instincts take over. It’s going to be rough. That’s why I’ve been preparing you, so to speak.”

A knot twists in your stomach at his words. You hadn’t realized the full extent of what tomorrow held, but now it makes sense. That’s why they call it the Hunt, you think, You’re basically their prey. The pieces finally click into place. His honesty, though jarring, makes you feel strangely grateful that he’s letting you in on something you weren’t aware of.

“I trust you,” you whisper softly. “You haven’t hurt me so far, so I’m not worried about tomorrow.”

Wooyoung’s chest rises as he takes a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He silently prays to Goddess Peralia that he won’t bring you any harm during the Hunt. The uncertainty flickers in his eyes for just a moment before he pulls you closer, wrapping you in his warmth.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as you settle against his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, and soon your breaths fall in sync, the sound of the wind rustling through the Darkwood easing you both into a peaceful silence.

As the stars twinkle above, the night’s calm surrounds you like a protective cocoon, lulling you into sleep. You drift into a deep, restful slumber, cocooned in his arms, feeling the peace before the inevitable storm of tomorrow.

“The Insatiable Hunt begins,” one of the warlocks grins darkly before tossing back the elixir, the liquid shimmering as it slides down his throat. Wooyoung raises his glass in silent agreement, his eyes flashing with excitement before he gulps it down, feeling the fiery potion race through his veins. The others follow suit, the room buzzing as they prepare for the night ahead.

They pull on their wolf masks, transforming from men into primal hunters, instincts sharpening with every heartbeat. The thrill of the chase hangs thick in the air as they line up, muscles tensed, waiting for the doors to open.

Wooyoung’s body hums with the effects of the potion, a burning heat spreading through his skin. His senses sharpen—your scent lingers, intoxicating and irresistible. His pupils dilate as your essence floods his nostrils, every fiber of his being urging him forward. The others grin beneath their masks, but his focus is single-minded: you.

The doors creak open with a loud thud, unleashing them into the night. With a guttural growl, Wooyoung sprints into the woods, his feet pounding the earth as he follows your trail, the scent drawing him deeper into the Darkwood. His heart races, blood pumping with one singular purpose: to find you. To claim his prize.

Wooyoung moves like a shadow, effortlessly twisting and turning through the woods, his heightened senses guiding him closer to your trail. Each subtle shift in the air tells him you're near. He slows as he approaches a dense thicket, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He can feel you hiding, watching, waiting.

His cock strains when he catches a whiff of your scent, his hardened member straining against the tightness of his pants as it begs to bury itself deep inside of you.

His eyes narrow, hyper-focused on the faintest rustle of leaves. You dart from the bushes, sprinting through the underbrush, your breath quickening as you distance yourself from him. He follows silently, his steps deliberately soundless as he stalks you.

You duck behind a tree, pressing your back against its trunk, heart pounding in your chest. Straining to listen, you hear... nothing. No footsteps, no rustling—nothing. A chill creeps up your spine. Slowly, you peek around the tree, scanning the shadows. There’s no sign of him.

Relief barely has time to settle in before you turn back and scream.

He’s right there, inches away.

"Gotcha," Wooyoung growls, his voice low and menacing, his breath hot against your skin. With a wicked grin, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze as he slams your back against the rough bark of the tree. The impact sends a jolt through your body, your heart racing even faster now. His grip tightens, but not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

His eyes glint through the wolf mask with a dangerous mix of hunger and satisfaction, the thrill of the Hunt evident in every line of his expression.

Wooyoung's grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “I can’t wait to split you in half with my cock.”

Before you can react, he spins you around, pressing your chest against the rough bark of the tree. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his hands slide down your sides, firm and unyielding.

He blames his newfound animalistic behavior for how fast he rips away your crimson cloak and the layers beneath it, leaving the shredded fabric scattered across the mossy forest floor.

In one swift movement, Wooyoung uses a knee to spread your legs and sinks into your inviting opening without warning. Tears sting your eyes from the sudden intrusion, but the pain quickly turns into mind-shattering pleasure.

“Taking it so well, aren’t you, slut?” he purrs, voice low and dripping with praise. The raw, commanding edge in his tone sends shivers through you, your insides tightening around him in response.

You hum an incoherent response, unable to form words when his cockhead is pressed against the swell of your cervix.

After ripping his mask off, Wooyoung’s fingers press into your hips. He holds you steady as he moves, each thrust punctuated by dark whispers of just how perfectly he fits inside you.

Wooyoung’s grin brushes against your neck as he drags his tongue up the curve of your skin, leaving a lingering lick before pressing a kiss just below your ear. His hips pull back slowly, his length retreating from your slick folds until only the tip remains, teasing you.

Then, with a low growl, he thrusts forward, filling you entirely in one fluid motion, claiming every inch as he sinks deep inside.

The sudden motion causes you to moan uncontrollably, his girth continuing to stretch out your soft walls. Your soaked cunt splitting open around Wooyoung’s enormous girth only causes him to swell more, if that’s even possible.

“M-more, please!” you whimper.

Wooyoung clenches his jaw, feeling your wetness ooze out where your bodies meet with each quick thrust.

One of his hands squeezes your side, the other falls to your round ass, and his claw-like nails scratch across your skin before he pulls his hand back to spank you. Your vision blurs from the impact, and you push your hips out, asking for more.

“Again,” you whine, your head digging further into the tree’s bark.

You bite down on your lower lip, anticipation building as you brace yourself. A sharp crack echoes through the air as his hand comes down against you, harder this time and sending another sting that radiates through your skin.

A moan slips past your lips, the sharpness transforming into pleasure that courses through your body. His fingers trace the spot he’s just marked, his low chuckle rumbling against your ear.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice rich with approval, each word sending shivers through you. “Turn around. I want to look at you," he demands next, his voice gritting through his teeth.

You obey, slowly turning to face him, your heart racing under his intense gaze. His eyes roam over you, filled with a mix of hunger and admiration that makes you feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Wooyoung cups your chin, tilting your face up toward him. His thumb brushes over your swollen lips as he drinks you in. "Look at you," he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb slipping inside your mouth. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around it, meeting his gaze as you lightly suck, earning a dark smile from him.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his free hand tracing down your body, grazing every curve and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. "And you're all mine tonight." His words trail off as his length pounds into you again.

He watches as your lips part, head tilting back in pure bliss, and takes his chance. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue slipping between your lips with a raw desire, claiming every inch he can reach. The kiss is deep and possessive, leaving you breathless as his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.

His tongue strokes against yours, tasting every gasp and moan you release, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. You melt into his kiss, losing yourself in the heat, the way he consumes you with each movement.

When he pulls back, Wooyoung drags his lips against the shell of your ear to whisper, “Is this what you want? Your little virgin cunt destroyed?”

“Yes,” you moan, voice low and thick with desire. Then, locking eyes with him, you let a wicked smirk curve your lips, meeting his heated gaze with a look as dangerous as his own. "Ruin me," you breathe, each word dripping with a challenge that sends a spark down his spine.

A growl escapes his lips, and his grip on you tightens. He pushes you against the rough bark, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as his eyes darken with pure, animalistic hunger. “You want to be ruined?” he whispers, his voice a low rasp against your ear as he pulls your hips even closer. “Careful what you ask for.”

His thrusts come harder, relentless, each one leaving you trembling and gasping as he takes you to the edge, only to pull you back before you can fall. His hand slides up your throat, a possessive touch that’s somehow both gentle and commanding as his thumb grazes your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You’re mine," he growls, eyes blazing, his body pressed against yours with no space left between you. He savors every inch of you, watching your face intently as he ravages you with a merciless rhythm, his fingers digging into your waist. “And I’m not stopping until you’re completely undone.”

Your moans grow louder, filling the night air and mingling with the rhythmic slap of your bodies moving in unison. The sounds echo through the Darkwood, a primal symphony that seems to resonate with the forest around you, intensifying with each frenzied thrust.

Wooyoung feels your walls clench tightly around him, a signal that you’re close to unraveling. “Cum around my cock, honey,” he rasps, his voice laced with possessiveness. “I know you’re close.”

He quickens his pace, pounding into you with a newfound urgency, while his fingers find their way to that sensitive spot between your legs. The moment his thumb and forefinger pinch your aching nub, pleasure spirals through you like wildfire.

You scream his name, your body seizing up as waves of ecstasy crash over you, each pulse flooding your veins with tingling heat.

He watches you intently, captivated as your face twists in bliss, feeling you squeeze around him, almost pulling him over the edge.

A low growl escapes his lips, and with two final, frenzied thrusts, he buries himself as deeply as he can, his abs contracting as he spills himself inside you. His teeth graze your bare shoulder, biting down as he rides out his release, filling you with a heat that leaves you both breathless.

“Oh, praise Satan,” he gasps, letting out a shaky laugh as he presses his forehead against yours. The two of you catch your breath together, heartbeats slowing, tangled in the afterglow.

You collapse entirely into his arms, utterly spent and trembling, every muscle deliciously exhausted as you sink into the darkness of sleep that lingers at the edge of your consciousness. A grin tugs at your lips, satisfaction mingling with exhaustion as you surrender to it, the night’s events replaying like a forbidden lullaby.

Nothing in your dreams could ever compare to the raw, disgraceful, dangerously addictive reality you’ve just experienced. Wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, you let go, falling into a slumber filled with echoes of his touch.

The room is loud with the sound of laughter, clinking goblets, and whispered gossip. Candles cast a warm glow over the grand hall as platters of food float between the seated bodies; you're barely listening though, too hyper-aware of Wooyoung sitting beside you.

You steal a glance at him from across the table. He’s watching you, his gaze steady and unwavering. A secret smirk plays at the corner of his lips, one that makes your cheeks burn under the soft glow of the chandeliers. It’s almost unbearable, this tension simmering between you, each stolen look as dangerous as a spark near dry wood.

His fingertips graze yours under the table, sending a rush through you each time. You both know the game you’re playing—pushing boundaries, daring each other, waiting for one of you to make the next move.

Finally, he leans in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “Let’s get out of here.”

"We can’t just leave," you mumble, finally meeting his burning gaze. There's a warning in your eyes, but he ignores it, his grin only growing.

You bite your lip, glancing around at the oblivious faces around you. "It’s the middle of the feast," you continue, though your resolve is already faltering. "People will notice."

"Let them," he says, the mischief in his tone unmistakable.

He stands and takes your hand, his grip both gentle and possessive as he leads you out, weaving through the tables with a confidence that dares anyone to question him.

Whispers and side glances follow, and you try to ignore the burning stares—hungry warlocks with dark eyes, envious witches with guarded whispers.

Everything has changed.

Wooyoung’s presence grounds you, his thumb brushing reassuring circles against your skin. And when he glances back at you, tilting his head in that familiar way with a smirk tugging at his lips, you realize that somehow—despite all the chaos of this past week—some things aren’t so different after all.

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[twstyuna]

Uninvited

Notes/rambling below cut.

This takes place post Book 7. I am not entirely sure I grasp the specifics of Silver's UM in the identifying dreamer with a bird sense and the logics of darkness characters and dream outfits. Just assume some kind of lucid dreaming here and roll with it if I broke canon haha.

This be one of the ghost! Skullys.

He's not keeping Yuu asleep in the Malleus sense, just helping Yuu dream of something happy since they get stress dreams and Overblot nightmares a lot. Their idea of happy is apparently their friends being fellow human schoolmates in their world and never having been isekaied. (Grim is a sassy but otherwise normal cat they own at home. It functions more like high school than college because Yuu isn't sure what a normal world college experience is like). Yuu wakes up, forgets Skully's existence and their dreams, lives the day, goes to bed, and Skully helps set up their boring slice of life dreamscape again

Overall benign but Skully's vibes are still too suspicious for Silver though lol. I think Skully would have kept the schoolmate/just a dream character guise if Silver didn't immediately try to fight him. In Silver's defense, Skully did glare.

Had this thought before I read book 7 but I like to think this is validating. From Book 7 Ch 111. Ghostly Oneiromancy go brr.

Skully's relationship with Yuu is platonic.

I think Silver's stumbled in Yuu's dreams before Skully came around but they both forgot

I think the 6 panels with Silver and Yuu are fun. Either Yuu sees Silver and greets him first or they're parallel which means Silver smiles first.

Left a little longer and Yuu might realize "Oh Silver's here" means "Oh I'm dreaming" and immediately wake up.

I imagine that Skully lived a whole life then died, but looks like a student because he really wished he could have been friends and had a fun school life with the NBC event boys . So I suppose him crashing Yuu's dreams/helping Yuu dream of a normal life may not be entirely altruistic then, but I would still like to think that is secondary to giving some comfort to the kid who was your friend lifetimes ago and who has not been having an easy time since getting spirited away to twisted wonderland

Alternative possible reasons for him looking young/relatively the same:

I do not know how to draw an older version of a character

Ghosts may be kind of immortal but their memory isn't. The Ramshackle Ghosts are blobs. Skully's painting was of him still relatively young so that's the appearance he assumes.

Actively trying to monitor Yuu in their dream and the easiest way to blend in is to just look like that so he's in their classes and such. Somewhere in Yuu's subconscious, Yuu remembers Skully being a friendly presence so there being another member in the friend group doesn't stick out.

[pensthoughts]

Hi…HIIIII!!!! So…call me crazy if you don’t see the vision, okay, Spider-Woman! Reader x Big Spider-Woman fan! Van…. Like, I see it, don’t you? Like it’s perfect. Like you are my favourite writer on Tumblr so…yeah

sticky situation | v.p

a/n: i always see spiderman au's for other fandoms so i was really excited to write this when i got it! also i'm not a big superhero fan so please don't judge if i get things wrong lol. hope you enjoy!! pairing: superfan!van x spiderwoman!reader summary: after getting into a big fight in the city, you turn to your best friend to help you out. too bad your best friend happens to be your biggest fan. word count: 3.2k

the city is loud tonight. not the kind of loud that mkes you feel alive—but the kind that tells you something's wrong. the kind that seeps into your bones and whispers: this is gonna hurt.

you don't even remember how it started. you were patrolling over lower manhattan, crouched on the edge of a rooftop and watching the streets below with tired eyes. it was supposed to be a quiet night. you were even thinking of cutting it short, maybe texting van to meet you at that twenty-four house diner she loves—the one with the cinnamon milshakes and sticky booths. she always pretends she hates the place, but you've caught her smiling into her fries too many times for that to be true.

but then the explosion happened. not big enough to take out a whole block, but enough to blow out windows, throw sparks into the night, and make your heart lurch. by the time you swung down, the scene was chaos—two masked guys hauling duffel bags into a black van, one already holding a crowbar like he was waiting for a fight.

and of course, you had to be a smartass. "hey," you called, landing in front of them. "you left your manners at home."

needless to say, they didn't think it was funny.

the fight was messy. one of them was stronger than he looked, swinging wild but heavy. the other ahd a shock baton—probably stolen. you dodged the first few hits easily, landing a couple of clean web-assisted kicks, but you were tired, running on half a protein bar and whatever adrenaline you had left. the baton guy got lucky. got you in the side while you were mid-flip. you felt it before you saw it. a burst of heat that made your whole right side throb.

you kept going. you always do. you took them both down eventually, left them webbed to a streetlamp with a little note: nice try. but by the time you were scaling a building to get away, your suit was already sticking to your skin from the blood.

you tried not to panic. you've been injured before. you have plans for this. safehouses. contacts. places to hide.

but not this close. not fast enough.

so your brain did what it always done when you're scared. it went to van.

you've been best friends with van since sophomore year of high school. she was the loud redhead in the back of your chemistry class who cracked jokes under her breath and made paper footballs out of pop quizzes. you were new—nervous, quiet, still trying to figure out if you could balance a secret double life and algebra II. van figured you out faster than you figured out the cafeteria schedule. not the spider-woman part, of course. just the important stuff. that you liked the weird flavored gatorades. that you doodled in the margins of your notebooks when you were thinking. that your laugh came out in stutters when you were really caught off guard.

you weren't supposed to get close to anyone, not really. but she made it hard not to. van has this gravitational pull—bold and ridiculous and so painfully genuine it hurts. she got you to open up in pieces, to trust in increments. you had sleepovers in your house, movie marathons at hers, birthday dinners that always ended in karaoke. she knew when to tease and when to let you sit in silence. when you got detention for the first time (not your fault), she faked being sick just so you wouldn't have to serve it alone.

and now, you're still in new york—freshmen. van's studying film at nye, already making weird little shorts with her classmates and pretending she's not going to be famous one day. you're juggling classes, homework, and a part-time superhero gig that would kill your gpa if your professors found out.

somehow, in the mess of it, you've stayed close. late-night bagels. shared playlists. phone calls when you're in the suit and trying not to sound out of breath. she doesn't know the truth, but she still keeps you sane.

you knew that there was one problem about this plan—van loves spider-woman in ways that shouldn't even be allowed.

she's got posters, figures, even a hand-painte mug with your symbol on it. you once caught her watching a shaky phone recording of you flipping off a rooftop and landing with perfect form. she didn't even look embarrassed.

and now here you are, bleeding through your side, scaling her fire escape.

you tell yourself it's fine. she won't know it's you. you'll keep the mask on. you'll be just another bleeding superhero in need of some neosporin.

inside, her room is glowing with that golden warmth you've always loved. strings of lights loop across her ceiling, draped haphazardly over posters and shelves. her bed is a mess—blankets half on the floor, pillows thrown to the side like she was in the middle of remaking it and got distracted.

and she's dancing.

you blink, momentarily forgetting the blood pooling in your suit.

she's got music blaring through her speakers, something unapologetically pop and aggressively catchy. she's singing into a hairbrush, spinning in circles, nearly tripping over her own socks. her pajama shirt is oversides and slightly ripped at the collar, her shorts hanging low on her hips. she's grinning like she doesn't have a care in the world.

you lean against the window frame, watching her for a second.

you should knock.

but it's hard to tear your eyes away. there's something about her like this—unguarded, ridiculous, beautiful. you've fought monsters, out swung bullets, stared death in the face without blinking. but standing here, watching van palmer lip-sync to a song about heartbreak with one sock on and one off?

that's what makes your pulse trip.

you knock.

she doesn't hear it. you knock again, harder this time.

her head snaps up.

she sees you.

freezes.

and then she vanishes below the windowsill like she's just seen a ghost.

you smile weakly, pressing your forehead to the glass. "hey," you say, voice low, shaking. "it's okay. it's just—i need help."

there's a beat.

then she reappears. slower this time. careful. her eyes rake over you—your mask, your trembling hand, the dark red stain seeping from your ribs.

she lifts the window.

"get in," she says, breathless.

you climb through with more effort than you want to admit. your balance is off, your legs wobbly. as soon as you land inside, you stumble, and she's there—arms around you, solid and warm.

"whoa," she mutters, steadying you. "okay. you're real."

you try for a joke but only manage a hiss of pain.

"okay," she says, dragging you gently. "sit. i'll get the first aid kit. don't touch anything. or die."

you let yourself collapse onto her floor against her bed, your hand pressed tight against your wound. you watch her leave the room, backing out like she doesn't want to blink and miss it. her expression is a mix of awe and panic. she's always been good in emergencies, though.

you close your eyes for just a second.

you're not sure if this was the smartest decision, but you're here now, and van palmer is about to see a side of you she's only dreamed of.

she's back in under a minute, a little red box under her arm and her other hand holding a towel she probably didn't think through—white, of course. she takes one look at the blood and immediately swaps it out for a dark t-shirt from her laundry pile.

her eyebrows are knitted in concentration like she's still processing the fact that this is really happening. like you're really here, bleeding all over her hardwood floor.

"okay," she announces as she kneels in front of you, "this is the part where you don't judge my lack of any and all medical experience."

you lean back slightly to give her space, the fabric of your suit pulled enough to reveal the deep, ugly gash along your side. it's still weeping, though not as badly as before.

"god," van murmurs, wincing. "what even did this?"

"guy with a crowbar thing," you mutter, teeth grit. "he didn't like my jokes."

van lets out a breath. "typical new-yorker."

she sets the kit beside her and cracks it open, pulling out alcohol, gauze, tape, and bandages in a practiced sort of messiness. she's moving fast but not carelessly. her fingers, warm and steady, prod gently around the wound as she leans in close. you try not to flinch. she smells like oranges and something woodsy—familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

when the alcohol touches your skin, you hiss involuntarily.

"shit—sorry!" van's hand flies back like she's been burned. "i knew that was gonna suck, i just didn't know how much."

you shake your head. "it's fine. i've had worse."

van gives you a quick glance. "that's kind of the scariest thing you've said all night."

she presses the gauze down carefully, holding it there. you feel her exhale, warm against your shoulder. then she tapes it into place with slow, focused movements. her touch is light but precise.

"you're good at this," you mutter.

she snorts. "what, being a hot florence nightingale?"

your lips curve, despite the pain. "something like that."

she tapes a clean bandage over the gauze and begins wrapping the stretch of gauze around your waist, threading it under your arms and around your back, leaning in close with every pass. her fingers graze your ribs once and you flinch—not from the pain this time.

she notices.

you watch her work, and she tries not to meet your eyes, though you catch the smile tugging at her lips.

"i'm just saying," she says, voice light. "i imagined meeting spider-woman a lot of ways, but none of them involved gauze and my kitchen scissors."

you chuckle. "and how did you imagine it?"

she shrugs, looping the bandage again. "you know. saving me from an explosion. swinging in through the window. a dramatic pose."

you arch a brow. "i did come through the window."

"true," she says, mock-serious. "i feel honored."

van's eyes lift to yours for a split second too long. then she looks away, focusing too intently on tearing the end of the bandage.

it's quiet for a beat, just the sound of the city outside, muffled by distance. you glance down at her hands—freckled, careful, still slightly shaking,

she speaks again, but this time her voice is lower, like she's trying to puzzle something out.

"you... you sound familiar," she says.

your stomach tightens.

she shakes her head, mostly to herself. "sorry, i don't mean that in a weird way. it's just—your voice. i swear it's on the tip of my tongue."

you force a shrug, not trusting your voice.

but then it slips out, too naturally—your instinct when she presses the gauze too hard.

"dude, gentle. i'm injured, not invincible."

van stills. completely.

you feel her gaze flick back up to your face. her brows draw in, not confused—curious.

you've said that line to her a thousand times before, back when you two were roughhousing in high school, back when she'd throw popcorn at your face during horror movies or shove you off the couch when you said something smartass-y.

van squints slightly, eyes narrowing in that familiar way when she's focusing hard on something.

"...what did you just say?"

you try to cover, to laugh it off. "uh. nothing?

"no. you said—" she sits back on her heels, studing your face like it's a riddle. "that line. you've said that before."

"i mean, i'm sure spider-woman's said a lot of things."

van doesn't laugh. she just stares, mouth parted, like she's standing on the edge of a realization she's not ready for.

you feel the tension shift between you, coiling tight. the bandage is finished, but she doesn't move away.

"you're weirdly good at pretending you're not in pain," she says softly.

you meet her eyes. "i've had practice."

"you're not like... famous-famous, right?" she asks, almost playfully. "like, under the mask? you're not secretly, like, florence pugh or something?"

you snort. "do i sound british?"

van grins, and then—it softens. almost fades.

"i don't know," she murmurs. "you just... feel familiar."

your heart thuds unevenly. you open your mouth to say something—anything—but her phone buzzes on the desk. she blinks, dragging herself away from whatever rabbit hole her brain was going down.

she walks over, still frowning slightly, and picks it up.

her thumb hovers over your name in her contacts—your civilian name.

she hesitates.

then taps out a message:

bro you'll seriously NEVER guess who's in my room. plz come over later so i can tell you🙏

the buzz that follows is barely audible, but van hears it. her head snaps toward you like a bloodhound catching a scent. she sees the shape of your phone in your boot that you took off upon entering her room.

the screen lights up—her message, your name, right there.

slowly, she walks back over.

your phone still glowing her her hand.

her eyes are wide now, but not panicked.

she looks at you. and all she says is, "...no way."

she says it like a prayer. like a punchline. like a memory unraveling in real time.

you freeze—completely, utterly still.

van is holding your phone like it's glass, like it might vanish if she grips it too hard. her eyes flick from your face to the cracked screen and back, and you see the moment it clicks. her mouth parts slightly.

you could lie. play it off. say someone else borrowed your phone. say you're just a really convincing voice match. say anything.

but you don't. because you know her. and because, in some stubborn part of you, you want her to know.

she exhales a quiet laugh. "dude."

you sigh, tugging your mask off fully now. "yeah. it's me."

van sinks down to the floor across from you like her knees give out. she doesn't look scared. or angry. she just looks...amazed. like she's staring at a skyline for the first time.

"i can't believe—" she laughs again, shakily this time. "oh my god, you've been her this whole time? my best friend is spider-woman?"

"sorry," you say, giving her a sheepish smile. "i didn't really know how to bring it up. like hey, pass the popcorn, also i fight crime on the weekends."

she shakes her head slowly, in awe. "no, like, what? you've been to my house. you've held my spider-woman bobblehead. you made fun of me for watching that fan edit seventeen times."

"i didn't make fun of you," you argue. "i said it was impressively edited."

van squints. "you called it 'fanfic with a budget.'"

"okay," you admit, grinning. "that does sound like me."

she stares at you for a moment, her smile faltering into something softer. she's still holding the medkit between you, like a strange sort of offering.

"so all those times you ditched plans," she says. "it wasn't because you were flaking. it was because you were saving people."

you nod.

"and tonight—you came here. out of everywhere in the city, you came here. to me"

you look down at your bandaged side, then back up at her.

"i trust you," you say. "even when you don't realize you're flirting with me."

that makes her snort—sharp and incredulous—but she doesn't deny it. instead, she reaches over, gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you know what's crazy?" she says, and her voice is quieter now, like she's confessing something she didn't plan to. "you show up at my window, bleeding and brave and real, and i think... of course it's you. it had to be you."

your breath catches in your throat.

van leans back slightly, giving you space again—but not too much.

"i liked spider-woman because she was fearless and funny and always five steps ahead. but i think i liked her because... she reminded me of you."

you bite your lip, warmth pooling in your chest. "you said i reminded you over a superhero once. i thought you were just being nice."

"i wasn't," she says. "i just didn't know how right i was."

the silence between you stretches, but it's not heavy anymore.

van eyes you for a long moment, then adds with a grin, "i'm keeping the bobblehead though. i don't care how famous you get."

you laugh, wincing slightly, and she catches your arm instinctively, steadying you.

you look at her—really look—and you know it's not just the suit or the powers or the danger that brought you here. it's her. it's always been her.

"you saved me," you say softly,

van smiles, hand still resting on your arm. "you started it."

she helps you to your feet with a quiet grunt, slipping an arm around your waist for support.

"so," she says as you lean into her, "what's the plan now, hero?"

you glance toward the window. the skyline glows like embers. sirens wail somewhere far off, fading into the hum of the city.

and you look back at van.

"honestly?" you say. "i think i need to sleep for a week. but maybe first...i owe you a real explanation."

she grins, walking toward her bed like it's no big deal. like she's not half-carrying a literal vigilante.

"you can start with why you always bailed on movie night."

"and end with why your first stop after almost dying was me," she adds, teasing.

you smirk. "maybe i just wanted to see your dance moves again."

van laughs, red creeping into her cheeks as she helps you settle against the pillows. "don't push it, spider-girl."

as she settles beside you, legs crossed, fingers fidgeting with the corner of the medkit box, you feel the air between you settle into something warmer than it's ever been. you saved a city. you survived a fight.

but this? this is the part you were fighting for.

she settles beside you, cross-legged and still buzzing with adrenaline, even if she’s trying to play it cool. her shoulder brushes yours, warm and steady. and for a second, everything feels almost normal. like it’s always been this way—just you, her, and the glow of the city outside her window.

she starts rifling through the medkit again, mumbling something about finding the good band-aids, and you catch yourself watching the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way her fingers move like she’s done this before, like she knowshow to take care of people, how to take care of you.

it sneaks up on you, the realization.

you’ve spent years with van palmer. late nights, shared secrets, laughter that made your ribs ache. you’ve trusted her with everything except this one, impossible truth. and now that she knows, now that she’s looking at you like you’re still you—just maybe a little more sparkly around the edges—

you think you might like her.

not just as your best friend. not just as the girl with a room full of superhero merch and a laugh you could find in a crowd. but like… like like.

and the worst part?

you think she might like you too.

but for now, you lean back against her shoulder, let your eyes flutter shut, and let yourself rest. because spider-woman can save the city tomorrow.

tonight, you’re just a girl with a secret and a little bit of a crush.

and van palmer is still your favorite person in the world.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Masterlist

Din Djarin x f!reader | 18+ | ~40k words | complete 1/15 main masterlist | ao3

summary: When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

full fic tags/warnings (spoilers!): modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

a/n: welcome to the Din ballet fic!! I started writing this in April and it’s finally finished! I’ll post a new chapter every Wednesday, there are 14 total. There’s some smut coming but it’ll be a while, folks. See my notes below about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!! This fic is so much better because of you. 🧡 And thank you to @almostfoxglove for reading over it and confirming I didn't forget all my ballet, lol. 🩰

note about reader: in this fic you’re a ballet dancer, first soloist at Nevarro Ballet Theater company. I haven’t mentioned the reader’s body size or shape (or hair) basically at all, even to the point of avoiding clothing (except for costumes), but I understand the image that goes along with ballet – I danced for almost 20 years. Din does lift you many times. Please feel free to picture whatever you want, but I know that this might seem more limited. You also have a best friend named Adrian who is in the company with you. I never specified age, but to make first soloist most would be in at least their early 20s. Din is 27.

Chapter list and notes about ballet under the cut! Comment or reblog to join the tag list. 🥰🩰

Chapter List

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

** Bonus: Amazing art of Din by @kenobiwanx!! **

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

...

some notes about ballet: I will share links to videos and such as much as possible, but here are some definitions to get us started – principal, (first) soloist, corps de ballet, variation, and class vs. rehearsal:

Principal - this is the highest level a dancer (of any gender) can reach in a company. Dancers are ‘promoted’ through the ranks. Principals usually have exceptional technique and artistry and can perform solos, pas de deux (partnering), headlining and/or the most challenging roles, etc. (e.g., the white (Odette) and black (Odile) swans in Swan Lake, both usually performed by one principal). Sometimes dancers are hired directly in as principals (like Din, in this fic). Smaller companies might have 5-6 principals, while larger ones could have as many as 20. Nevarro is somewhere between medium and large and has around 14 principals, including Din.

First Soloist - not every company has this rank, but it’s in between principal and soloist. Nevarro has 4 but they are counted among the soloists (12-14ish total). Soloists are often understudies for larger parts, and first soloists would do the same. In this fic reader is a first soloist, just promoted at the start of the season.

Soloist - this is sort of a middle level, for dancers who are doing very well and have proven themselves capable of taking on bigger roles. Many ballets have multiple roles, including supporting roles in the narrative, for soloists and principals to showcase many dancers’ talents. A smaller company might have 5-6 soloists, and a larger company might have as many as 20. (Larger companies also do more shows.) Nevarro is somewhere between medium and large and has around 12-14 soloists, including first soloists.

Corps de ballet - this is the lowest/starting level in a company. It’s where most would start from and has the largest number of dancers – these are the dancers who come out on stage in large groups or form the background unnamed roles in narrative scenes (like a party). Reader started in the corps and was promoted to soloist and then first soloist.

Variation - a solo dance, usually a piece from a larger ballet (e.g., the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker). We say ‘variation’ because there are many ballets that have been choreographed differently by multiple people in the ballet world (e.g., there are famous versions of the Nutcracker by Petipa, Gorsky, Balanchine, Nureyev, Baryshnikov… and more). So there can be multiple variations of a solo from a single ballet, and more can be created or altered, etc. But in general the term just means solo.

Class vs. rehearsal - most companies distinguish between ‘class’ and ‘rehearsal’. Class is for the whole company and focused on improving technique. It’s quick and often repetitive and everyone sort of knows what to do. Most people would have ‘their’ spot at the barre and fall into a typical order for going across the floor. After class, most would go into multiple hours of rehearsal, PT, strength training, etc., depending on whether it was a performance day or not. Most companies are rehearsing for more than one performance at a time, so they might have a longer rehearsal for the show coming up this or next weekend, and a shorter one for another performance a bit farther away. But in the days leading up to a show, that show’s rehearsals would probably take over. This can vary by company. On show days, most would have fewer rehearsals with a 1-2 hour break before the call time to get ready.

Season - companies have 'seasons' which just refers to their plan for shows/schedule for the upcoming year. They might refer to like a fall season and a spring season, or the might have a full year schedule with different parts (fall/winter/spring), or they might have only a spring season that runs into early summer. It depends on the company and the size! In this fic Nevarro has a fall season and a spring season, but they tend to think about it as a full year for contracts/etc. They would have 3-4 big shows planned (think Nutcracker, Swan Lake, Giselle, Onegin, etc.) in each part of the season (so, 3-4 in fall and 3-4 in spring). And then they'd fill in the gaps in the schedule with "mixed programs", which are programs with multiple smaller ballets or pieces that feature a lot of dancers. So a mixed program might have a 20 minute Balanchine ballet, a pas de deux, a full corps piece from a larger ballet, and a piece for like 8 dancers. or something. Mixed programs are often when choreographers-in-residence and on staff get to debut their own work.

[inkcapjester]

Hello! I was wondering if you would think about posting tutorials or stuff like that! I really admire your art style, and there are a lot of things that you were capable of drawing that I and many others are not.

You don't have to respond to this if you don't want to, bye honestly I just need to know how you're able to draw a kiss and make it look natural or, certain poses with characters

You're just really talented and I admire your work! I would love to learn from you if you were inclined to teach💕

i typed this almost all out once and tumblr deleted it so here we go again 🥀🥀

OFCC!! this is so sweet 😭😭 I broke my process down into steps so hopefully it’s easier to understand. This is just a general tutorial, but if you’d like a more in depth one on something specific do let me know and I can try!! I am not a professional (yet) and only a student but I hope my tips can be useful!!

Step by Step tutorial + full speed-paint of my Cassius drawing below cut 💜

Using references has been something I’ve more recently gotten into the habit of, and by god I’ve improved so much because of it. Studio classes really forced me to get used to drawing from reference, and I’m glad I got that push.

For finding references, I usually use Pinterest, or I take my own photos (like for this cover image!! i couldn’t figure out the pose LMAO) For this tutorial, I’m going to be using my recent drawing of Lord Cassius from KotLC as examples of my steps. When I’m searching for references, I like to type phrases and emotions I associate with the character and see what it gives me. For Cassius, I literally searched “Judgmental facial expression man” as my beginning search LOL.

From there, if I’m not immediately finding pictures I want to use, I try finding one that’s within the realm of what I’m looking for, and then continue deep diving under the recommended pictures below the one I clicked on. I find this is a good way to more quickly get the specifics you want, and it’s something I love about Pinterest.

You can also combine images together to create a new pose if you’re not finding exactly what you want! I love hodge-podging pictures together to create my scenes.

Along with pose references, I also like to gather emotion/body language references. Sometimes it’s just looking at different aesthetics I’m going for, and sometimes, like when I’m drawing sokeefe, it’s looking at pictures of couples. I study their facial expressions, and how their bodies interact in a space together, compared to more platonic relationships. I also just think it’s fun to study human behavior lol.

An extra thing I do when find references is also look for clothing inspiration! Especially with fantasy works like KotLC, it’s sometimes hard for me to come up with fashion for them. I often really like taking random elements from a couple different pictures, putting them together to create an outfit, and unifying them through color!

Once I have gathered a bunch of references that I like, I sift through them and pick out the ones I think will go well together, both stylistically and composition-wise. I think it’s important to note that your drawings don’t have to be a 1:1 replica of the reference!! The pictures are there to guide your drawing, but not dictate it. Some parts of the picture I will reference a lot more heavily, often things I struggle with like hands, while things I’m more comfortable with like expressions I will stray from the reference a bit and give it my own flare.

Whether your making a drawing like the ones I will show below (of the multiple smaller drawings of Cassius all laid out on one spread) or more of a scene drawing, I find using the reference photos to roughly “sketch” out how I want the composition to look to be extremely helpful. Especially with digital art, using the images as a rough guide is easy to create multiple compositions to choose from.

As you can see in this picture, I’ve cut out the backgrounds/parts of the reference photos that I don’t need, so I can better see what my composition will actually look like. I’ll have the full speed-paint of my Cassius drawing at the bottom of this post, and in that you can see briefly at the beginning me cutting apart and piecing together a bunch of images, until I landed on this layout.

When actually laying out the images, I always have in mind the viewer’s eye. I want to guide the viewer through the drawing, giving them lots of entertainment while not being an overwhelming amount of information.

When it comes to sketching, I have a lot of different approaches that I use, depending on the time I have and what I need to draw. Most of the time, I lightly trace over the reference image, blocking out any large and important shapes. This makes it a lot easier for my brain to understand and replicate. When I’m tracing, I also like to mark where certain features are, like the nose and eyes, along with the curves of the shapes. That is especially important on the face.

I like to turn the reference off, or put it in another window, bring my traced shapes to the left side, then begin my own drawing on the right. At first, I focus on making sure the proportions are correct and the shapes match. After that, I go back over and adjust the sketch to my style, and the characteristics of whoever I’m drawing. Often the reference image’s face/body will look different from the character, so it’s important to understand the fundamental shapes of the body, and how they are interacting, rather than just copying the image straight up. Here are some examples below from the speed-paint 👇

If I’m feeling stuck and like something doesn’t look right, I’ll hover my drawing over the tracing, and sometimes over the reference to see what is not lining up. Then putting it back off to the side and working on that section. I also flip the canvas a lot, to help my eyes not get too used to my drawing.

I keep repeating that process until all of my images are sketched out in my style and look like the character I want. I’ll also leave notes for myself to remember details I need to add when I’m closer to being done, and don’t want to draw LOL

Also note that some people’s sketches are incredibly neat and thought out, while others’ (like me) opt for figuring out the details in the later stages. Either way works, it’s kinda just what works for you. What sketches need to have are solid fundamentals, and if that’s looking good, then you’re set.

I looooovvveee line art /gen and i know a lot of people don’t which makes me sad 🥀

I get it, it can be tedious, but I really do enjoy bringing my drawing to life and finding all the details I want to add. I used to really struggle with my lineart feeling very stiff compared to my sketch, and it took me a long while to learn how to keep the vibe of the sketch in my final drawing. I’m not always as successful as I want to be, but that’s okay, my goal is to keep learning not to be perfect.

I’ve found that utilizing line weight helps that problem a lottt. Also just having fun with your lines, like in the sketching stage. When I was younger I remember doing line art and needing every.single.pixel to be perfect, and it really sucked all the fun out of it. There are tons of different ways to do line art, and something that helped me get out of that perfectionist mindset was just looking at artists I admired. I studied their speed-paints, what kinda of brushes they used, and how they used line in their line art.

A lot of them had more expressive strokes than I realized, often using the weight of lines to exaggerate the drawing.

The line art doesn’t need to be out-of-this-world to be good. I like using a textured brush, with lines that connect for the most part. I try to put heavier lines on places of emphasis, like the outlines, folds, points, and where lines connect. Usually, the smaller or softer the details, the lighter and thinner the lines.

It took me a long time to find a style of line art that I really enjoyed, and even now sometimes I switch between brushes. Something that art school taught was how important play is. Even just messing around with brushes helped me find how I liked to draw. All of the brushes I use I've found for completely free on Gumroad. If you're ever curious what I use I'd be happy to make a post about it!

Color!!! This is one of my favorite steps, and also the one I find most frustrating. I absolutely love color theory and tweaking colors to look completely different than reality, and it sometimes bites me in the butt lol. Recently I've gotten a lot better with base colors, and I always try to set the background to a mid-tone grey instead of blaring white. I tend to favor saturated yet darkish colors if that makes sense.

The grey background allows the colors to not have to fight so much to be seen against a white background, and also helps me keep my values in check. I'm always thinking about readability in terms of value as well as saturation when I'm coloring.

I always check my values by having a layer above all others filled with white and set to the blending mode saturation. I want the main points of the character to be distinguishable and easy to read, especially from a distance or if you squint. This is why I kinda hate drawing blond characters because it is a lot more difficult to find values of a light skin tone and light hair that are different enough without it looking insane. Some areas I succeed more in terms of "value readability" and some are weaker. Not every single color needs to have extremely different values, but the composition needs to include large areas of varying value. I also use value in my colors to frame things I want to emphasize, like Biana's face in front of her dark hair.

You can also frame pieces of a drawing with the actual colors, like in my Cassius drawing, I wanted the drawing in the foreground to stand out, so I used tints and shades of blue for the outfit behind him. Blues and yellows often go well together, and it gave me a nice opportunity to bring him even more forward.

When it comes to actually choosing colors, I like to chose a color palette for that character ahead of time. I also limit my use of different colors and tones both as a challenge and to make my pieces more cohesive. I love reusing colors, like the whites of a character's eyes being the same as their clothes.

For Cassius, I knew I wanted his palette to be primary golds, whites and blues. White can be a particularly difficult color to make, because it depends so heavily on its environment to exist. This is why I usually chose the brightest white and the skin color first. I absolutely need the white to pop and I need the skin to look alive and well, so those two colors take the highest importance for me. For each character's white, I take a look at the color palette I assigned them, and try a few different kinds of white alongside the skin tone. I try giving them cool and warm undertones that correspond with their color palettes, then chose the combinations I like the best. I always try to master a few colors together at a time. Trying to get all of the colors to work together all at once is overwhelming to me, and often leaves my drawings looking messy.

I know a lot of artists that fill the inside of their character with a base color that they want to tie all the other colors back to, and I've heard that works great too! Color is really something that you learn through play and experimentation. It took me a very long time to get a good grip on it, and even now I stumble sometimes trying to wrangle my colors. Sometimes just going back to the basic color wheel is what helps me get back on track.

The most important thing about color is just that they always exist in context. Take them out of that context, and they can look completely different, like in my example below ^.^ This is a very extreme version of what I would use for a white, but I thought it was a good way to show just how different something reads when its against a different color/value.

As for shading, I've been trying a lot of different techniques lately. I'm in-between shading styles right now, so I'm still trying to figure myself out too!! I do love using masks for shading though. I use them in my more simple/cel-shading, and for when I'm rendering.

The masks have been deleted by this point and I can't pull them from the speed paint :< but these layers I have highlighted came from the same mask. Basically, I make a clipping layer clipped onto the base colors, and fill the entire layer with whatever I want to shade with. Usually I use the layer mode multiply, and set the opacity down to whatever I want. After that, I make a mask of that clipped layer, and use the mask to carve out where I want the light. I like using masks because it lets me mess with opacity without messing with the layer's over all opacity.

After I'm satisfied with what I've carved out, I merge the mask and shading layer. Then, I select the contents of the shading layer, invert that selection, make a new layer, and fill the inverted selection with my lighting color. Then I mess around with blending modes and opacities till I get it how I want it!

If that was confusing I can always go more in-depth about it :] That and anything else that I maybe didn't explain well enough!! I love talking about this stuff and art in general (it's my major for a reason LOL) so please don't hesitate to ask!!!

Here is the Cassius speed-paint as well!!

[meltingmidas]

110.0%

Paring: Uni Professor!Hwa x Uni Student!Reader

CW: DomHwa/SubReader, SLIGHT choking, oral m. receiving, degrading, dumbification, hair pulling, Hwa is mean lol (pls lmk if I missed anything!)

WC: 810

Midas’s Notes: Woah Hello!! This is my first ever fic! I apologize for the mess, I’m still trying to set up my theme and structure for this acc..I hope you guys enjoyed my mediocre writing, please leave critiques and tips, or just anything you liked/would like to see more of!! 🫶🏻

🔞 Below 🔞

You never thought you’d be in this position, between your professors legs, hands tight behind you with a belt, kissing the tip of his cock as your own spit runs down your chin. “Come on, I know you can take more, slut. After all, this is your grade we’re dealing with.” Seonghwa snarks, harshly tugging your hair as he forced your head down on him. Your eyes pricking with tears, you try and think back to where you went wrong. Was it when you interrupted his “meeting”, only to find his own hard cock thrusting into his hand, whispering curses as he watches precum leaking into his fingertips. Surely not, maybe he wanted to get caught, knowing you had scheduled tutoring with him that evening.

You realize too late that you’ve halted your actions, leaving your lips just above his twitching length. Your thoughts interrupted by being pulled up, and a hand tightly holding your cheeks up to face him. “Did I tell you to stop?” He questions, a sharpness to his tone. You stammer, “N-no Seon-“ before you finish, he tightens his hold on you, “Address me correctly,” he leans towards you, just inches away from your face, “Did I tell you to fucking stop?” Seonghwa questions you again, his eyes cutting through you. “No, Sir. Please, I’ll do better” you answer, not caring about how desperate you sound. A smirk stretches on his lips, a satisfied sigh leaving him as he watches your head bob up and down on him. “Who knew I had such a cock whore in my class?” Seonghwa says as he plays with your hair, laughing when he hears soft gagging leaving your throat.

“All this for a better grade on a paper you did quite well on, did my student expect this?” He confronts you, his light hair touches turning into fistful tugs. “I see your glances, I see how lustful you are. It’s quite amusing, but sexy, I’ll admit”. He quirks his head to the side, admiring the view below him, “You know how many women would love to be in your position? All of the students who would only dream for this to happen?” He pushes your head down a little harder this time, his hips thrusting up to where your nose hits the base of his cock.

“You really had to dumb yourself down just to get here, huh?” He prods, “You fell from a 109.7% to a 87.9%, I wonder why?” Seonghwa adds a fake concern to his voice while glancing at your past test papers. “Oh well, you’re getting what you wanted, dirty whore.” He spits, every harsh comment rushing to your core, you feel yourself getting more wet with every word. You moan into his cock as you flatten your tongue, making sure your stretch it as far and wide as you can, earning a small moan leaving his mouth.

You look up to him with glossy eyes, meeting his sharp ones. His glasses shine in the dim lighting, his slick black hair messy from running his fingers through it all day. He’s hot. He’s so, unbelievingly hot. “Like the view? I do too, darling. Not everyday I see a stupid bitch below me” he says as he pulls your head up, finally allowing you to take a deep breath. He pumps himself a few times, watching your eyes glance between his dick and his face. A groan leaves him, a smile dancing across his lips. “You gonna let me cum on your pretty face? Ruin that pretty makeup you probably spent hours on just for me?” He sighs when he feels your lips connect to his red tip. You nod eagerly, a rush racing up your spine, a heat pooling straight to your pussy. You swirl around the tip of him, lightly sucking when you hear him hiss above you.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum, open up pretty girl” he says as he reaches to pull your hair, pulling your gaze up off his dick. A soft “pop” leaves your mouth, as you unconsciously stick your tongue out, you watch him vigorously pump a few more times, before a string of “Fuck” leaves his mouth, and ropes of thick white cum drape over your nose, lips, and tongue. You smile as you hear him groan, he finishes draining himself of his seed all over your delicate features. He sighs, his hand releasing the tight grip he had on your hair to hold your cheek. He rubs his cum into your cheek, and gathers onto his thumb to bring to your lips. You obediently oblige, sucking and licking it clean. He huffs, “Good girl. What do you say?” You smile, kissing his thumb as it leaves your mouth. “Thank you Sir.” Needless to say your grade is now 110.0%, and you’re excited to see him next session.

[hohsalle]

i forgot to post my other fanservant designs here. um. i'm not incredibly satisfied with the actual art on these but this is more concept than art so it's fine

design notes below

avenger (amakusa shirou tokisada)

"he already has an avenger alt" that's okay. he can have two avenger alts

he looks closer to the way he did during the 3rd hgw because he didn't incarnate like apoc amakusa

much design inspo from onryo (vengeful ghost) art and noh and kabuki (which feature onryo heavily)

his base white layer is a funerary garment. it's crossed the wrong way because i really wanted to lean into the onryo aspect. he cannot move past his death hence his class

i put another layer under that because he looked naked. it's indigo because in kabuki theatre ghosts usually have heavy indigo makeup, so i wanted it in the color scheme

the haori was because he still looked too bare i'm sorry for always designing 2973926285 layers

however i decided later that it looks too Winter Hanten because i suck at drawing kimono fabric so i made this alt where he's not wearing the haori:

the red knots, obi cord, and over the shoulder cloth are insp by noh theatre. specifically they're common elements in samurai costumes

shoulder cloth is degraded from the usual resplendent fabric used in theatre costumes—first of all i wanted to evoke the fires in shimabara, and second also wanted to give the impression of a funeral shroud

the red around the pupils is also noh; masks might use a convention like this to indicate that someone is not human or has a grudge that they want to avenge

i wanted to play around with the idea of giving him phantom arms because in fate lore his arms were cut off before he was made to watch his comrades being executed but i couldn't draw it well enough. possibly another ascension...

caster (amakuni yasutsuna)

i thought it would be really funny to make a fanservant of amakuni, the first japanese swordsmith, who is not a saber, and who spends all his waking moments correcting people who think he's a saber

i heavily referenced muramasa's color scheme for this, although amakuni is not a shirouface. it's just that he's the only other swordsmith in fgo lol i wanted to have some parallels between them

the bandages: i don't know why i can't stop making design decisions based on involvement with fire. but as a smith i wanted him to have a Physical Sign that he interacts with flames and metals a lot

the scars on his face are also burns

the swords behind him are the body of the kogarasumaru, the sword he forged according to legend—this is not factually true, BUT because of how servants work, he has access to this sword because people think that he forged it

the vented shoulder on the right side of his gi is not authentically correct... it's there because i wanted to sort of evoke the heian-era kariginu style and also cus i figure it gets stuffy in there

he has tengu sandals on because the kogarasumaru (lit. "little crow") is so heavily associated with birds

his eyes are red to indicate divinity, as according to some versions of the legend he attained immortality due to the amount of blood shed with his swords

the cord on his hakama is how we wear the cords of our swords in my school of iaido. this is also not technically something that would have been authentic to amakuni's time, since he would have worn a sword in the tachi style, but since he is sort of the forefather of all swordsmithing in japan, i wanted to represent the more recent eras as well

[theocrytos]

Huzzah! My most recent DnD oneshot character!

Her name is Nausicaa, they're a tempest cleric of Istus (godess of fate and creator of the Fey realm and fey creatures in our homebrew world) and she's ready to kill her god to potentially save the life of her sickly wife and be able to grow old with her <3

Design detail rambles, fun facts and unused outfit sketches below the cut!

Fun facts/details:

- Their full name is Nausicaa Homonenomenon. No I wasn't able to tell that to my fellow players with a straight face. Yes there is a reason for it! While the face shape of the snakes isn't right, they are western hognoses, the scientific name of which is Heterodon Nasicus. We can thank my dear friend for her surname - she originally suggested 'Heteronomenon' which would have been quite ironic as Nausicaa very much isn't hetero, lol. Nothing against that, but I just thought Homonenomenon sounded even funnier/absurd.

- Her wife's name is Telmachia Aegagrus, named after the "og" Nausicaa's husband, Telemachus, and wild goats (Capra Aegagrus), the latter because she's a satyr. I have yet to draw her. I like to think she always calls Nausicaa nicknames, while Nausicaa mostly just calls her Telma, maybe also "my dear", or "my heart" (in Hungarian these are much more common nicknames for your partner than in English, as far as I know at least).

- She has a medusa piercing.

- The pin on her cloak is the symbol of Istus (in our game), and I have made it irl from cardboard to wear to DnD because I'm the kinda player who likes to dress up.

- She holds a bell in her right hand - simply because that's one of the items she has because of her (custom) background.

- Another item they have because of their background is the ring - a signet ring to be more exact - on her right middle finger. Her other ring is her wedding ring :)

- Not very well visible, but the beads on their belt are the colors of the lesbian pride flag.

- The pattern on their pants is kinda like what I sometimes doodle in class when I don't need to take notes but need to occupy my hand with something.

- Overall her colors are basically sunset colors because in our Feywild these are pretty prominent colors used/worn by the daytime (basically our version of seelie) fey.

Outfits!

I knew I wanted skirts of some sort and overall a lot of flowiness and some layering for this fruity little lady, but it took me a few tries to get something I like. I figured out her head first as you can tell, and none of these really matched that. But as you can see, the final one is kind of a combination of 1 and 3, with the addition of a cloak. 2 had a very greek cleric-y vibe too, don't get me wrong I loved that too! Maybe another time...

[inkandarsenic]

911 8x15 Lab Rats reactions, as written out in my notes as I had them SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

ugh. the bitch. I really hate Moira guys

She just HAD a Stanley cup full of ice???

Oh. She took roz’s tumbler and bag. RUDE

“It could be hours” THANK YOU ROZ. NOT HELPFUL

THE FUCKING FBI???? Oh they’re not gonna do shit either. God why is the government so fucking USELESS

Athena stopping Buck with a word. THATS HIS MOMMA

“You know how you get when things get personal” Bobby has Athena CLOCKED

Athena and Buck Shenanigans time!! mother and son breaking the law together

Who is Williams again? I forget

maddieeeee. my girl has been through so much

HEN YOU ANGEL.

Not Bobby deciding to play chemist. Oh I love my little macgyvering team

“You’re a man waiting in the car” aw Buck was so excited to go undercover

Athena baby you are not the best actress. But it worked so go you I guess

“You stole the crime scene photos.” “They can make more.” I love them

CHEMISTRY CLASS 118 I love this so much ngl

RAVI???

RAVI????

“I transferred custody” girl you stole them

THEYRE RUNNING OHR OF AIR???

Bobby. Bobby. Bobby please don’t take off your mask

ok seriously what is Moira’s obsession with stealing roz’s shit

moiras like an ARSONIST. this is so criminal minds coded

girl. the super strain YOU FUCKING CRWATED???

“No one has that.” “They’re about to” oh I hate you

FOR THE BABY. I FORGOR THEYRE HAVING A GUCKKNG BABY AND HES DYING

please I can’t do a 118 heart to heart right nowwww

Buck wouldn’t leave Maddie alone either Chim

THEYRE THE BEST TJING HES EVER DOEN FUCK THIS SHOW I AM CRYING

STOPPPP

BOBBY FACETIMED MADDIE SO SHE COULD TALK TO CHIM????

CHIM?!

What is HAPPENING???

THW BLOOD IS JUST A FUCKING. FLOW??? FROM HIS NOSE????

TOU CAN BLEED OUT THROUGH TOUR NOSE???

HIS NOSE CAPILLARIES ARE DISSOLVING???? THATS A THING????

“I swear I thought the pastries were for everyone” you fucking BITCH

girl you were not slick

up? Buck. Buck what is your plan

DID HE CALL FUCKING TOMMY

he did.

You know what points to Tommy for this. I still don’t like him but he’s really coming in clutch here

HEN. DONT MESS WITH THE TUBE KEEPING YOU ALIVE

oh thank god for hen.

ok now how is Athena gonna get the cure into the lab??

Buck. Can we not do this right now.

Oh yeah I forgot Tommy is technically friends with chimney

Oh fuck off army man

hey. hey Tommy? hey please don’t risk lives here

I hate the fucking army. Why are they so intent on letting Chim die

wait. wait Athena isn’t even there is she??

YESSSSS

KAREN COMING IN CLUTCH

I love roz and Allen they are my favorite scientists here

Ok so they got the cure!!!

Athena getting arrested. smh

There are still twelve minutes so it’s just them having cute slice of life right??

“Athena! You’re under arrest too?” Lol. Try to sound less excited Buck.

No warrant? Cmon fbi tighten up. Or don’t. We still hate you

girl you are insane is what you are

well. Glad this nightmare is over

ROZ AND ALLENS LITTLW FIST BUMP AS CRAZY MOIRA GETS ARRESTED PLS I LOVE THEM

“You guys would not believe the day I had” Buck says as he walks into the lab where all four of his team spent the day nearly dying. I love him

hey where’s Bobby

CHIM ADOPTED THE RAT???? “I thought Jee yun could use a pet”

Bobby. Bobby. What??

BOBBY. WHAT THE FUCK

NO

NO YOU ARE FUCKJNG WITH ME

BOBBY????

“You’re gonna be okay Buck.” STOP IT RIGHT NOW.

I LOVE YOU KID????

I LOVE YOU KID?????????

SOMEBODY FUCKING SEDATE ME I CANT DO THIS

I LOVE YOU KID?????? BOBBY.

HES WALKING AWAY SO BUCK DOESNT HAVE TO WATVH HIM DIE????

PLEASE WE WERE SO CLOSE

PLEASE. TIM DONT DO THIS TO ME

BOBBY.

HE WANTS SOME TIME ALONE WITH HIS WIFE I’M GONNA. I HATE THIS

HE DOESNT WANNA GOOOOO

SEASON ONE BOBBY JUST WANTED TO DJW BUT SEASON EUGHT BOBBY WANTS TO LIVEEE FUCK

HE STARTED TO LIVE AGAIN WHEN ATHENA SAID YES TO DINNER????

And then I was crying too hard to keep typing through the end

[triptychgrip]

Fic Recs (January 2025)

Long post ahead!

Every month this year, I'm hoping to post a list of fic recs from the 2 fandoms I primarily write/read for: Yuri!!! on Ice and Fruits Basket (though a few others might sneak in here and there, like His Dark Materials and Angels Before Man). 

I'll definitely still reblog promo posts from authors directly, but this monthly rec list will mostly be to spread the word about stories for which the author doesn't appear to be on Tumblr.

In that vein, I'm going to try and prioritize reccing 1) WIPs/recently written stories (i.e. things that have been published or which have been updated within the last year) and/or 2) NSFW fics, since those don't seem to get as much love as they should! (And by that I mean I feel like ppl are shy about admitting they read/enjoy smut, so this is just one small part of my own journey to free myself of deeply entrenched Catholic guilt lol)

If something is a WIP, I'll note that in bold/purple next to the author, and if something is NSFW, I'll note that in bold/red, also next to the author. If you happen to check any of these out and think I've missed including important tags or notes, feel free to let me know.

Oh, and I feel the need to make the disclaimer that there's no way I can list everything I've enjoyed reading lately (even just formatting these 8 recs nearly killed me), so I hope no one takes this as an exhaustive compilation.

That being said, I have been trying to get better at updating My Bookmarks, so maybe you'll find something you like there. For now, I only (publicly) bookmark completed fics, but this will be changing soon.

With that out of the way, below the cut are 8 stories I discovered recently that I think deserve more attention.

Yuri!!! on Ice Recs

1)  warm velvet skin (6K, by Oceankings) - NSFW

Relevant Ships/Tags: Viktor/Yuuri, Porn Without Plot, Dom/sub Undertones 

I know not everyone is into this, but when I'm reading smut I want the full play-by-play and tons of detail, and this fic does such an IMMACULATE job of really setting the scene vividly, while also having great pacing. This is a porn without plot fic featuring Dom Yuuri/sub Viktor, and their first time making a full-length video of themselves in the bedroom. The trust Viktor has in Yuuri is just so, so good, and I love how unabashedly into each other they are.

Note: you have to be a registered user on ao3 in order to view this fic

Excerpt: 

“Keep your hands to yourself tonight.” Yuuri murmurs against his lips. They’re not so much kissing as Yuuri is resting his lips against Victor’s. They share the same air but Victor would love nothing more than to be consumed in a kiss with Yuuri again.

His gaze flickers over the camera where the red recording light blinks at them still. He’d almost forgotten about its presence, becoming so distracted by Yuuri just being there. Seeing it wracks his whole body in a shiver and he stutters out a breath.

“I won’t touch myself.” The words are out of his mouth before he has the chance to think twice. It’s not until a few moments later that he realizes this is going to be torture. The chance to get to prove how obedient he is for Yuuri on camera barely fuels him forward.

Yuuri smiles and pecks him twice on the lips in reward. “I know you’ll do well, Vitya.” The phrase has its intended results and Victor manages to buck himself up against Yuuri one last time before he’s moving away.

2) Skaterview (13K, by skippingmud) - WIP 

Relevant Ships/Tags: Phichit & Yuuri, Viktor/Yuuri, Phichit/Seung-Gil, Fluff, Interviews, Slow Burn

I LOVE social-media and interview-based fics, and have really been enjoying this WIP. It features Yuuri and Phichit as college students who start a YouTube channel (called ShallWeSkate) as part of an assignment for one of Phichit's classes. 

What starts as a way for them to react candidly to watching their favorite skaters in competition later evolves to their conducting 'skaterviews': interviews with their idols! Once they create the channel and interview Leo de la Iglesia for their first skaterview, ShallWeSkate takes off in popularity, and it's so fun to read about in-universe figure skating fans FREAKING OUT on YouTube over both how talented a team Yuuri/Phichit are, as well as their proximity to their faves. 

Note: Tumblr formatting hates me, so in the below excerpt, I wasn't able to include the underlines that skippingmud has in their fic for the YouTube commenters; in the actual fic itself, the formatting looks much neater/polished than it does in this post

Excerpt (from Chapter 3):

You should spend some time in front of the camera, too!” Guang Hong added. “I didn’t see you in Leo’s video at all.”

“Come on, Yuuri, it’ll be our treat!” Leo insisted. “You deserve it for all the hard work.”

Phichit beamed when his roommate eventually agreed, though he wasn’t really surprised—neither of them were about to say no to eating with two people they were big fans of.

[Photo of four hands side by side, each holding a piece of crepe that was wrapped and packed to look like a burrito. The photo only shows up to the tops of their wrists.]

Liked by leodelaiglesia and 213 others

phichit+chu Food trip! 🌯 #ShallWeSkate

leodelaiglesia: Let’s do it again sometime!

leodelalala: Leftmost one is Phichit, the one next to him is Leo, and rightmost one is Yuuri. Who’s the fourth one?

guang-gang: i know that wrist anywhere!!! tell me my bby guang hong is the next skaterview!!!

gia-come-tti: @guang-gang how the fuck were you able to recognize guang hong’s wrist

guang-gang: @gia-come-tti it’s just like how you’d be able to recognize christophe’s ass in any picture!!!

gia-come-tti: @guang-gang touché, but a wrist?

guang-gang: @gia-come-tti ok the crepe was a giveaway coz that’s his favorite food and he’s training with leo in detroit rn so it was easy to connect the dots!!!

3) Mare incognitum (5K, by carnivores) - NSFW

Relevant Ships/Tags: Viktor/Yuuri, Dark Viktor Nikiforov, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Religious Imagery & Symbolism

As someone raised in a devout Catholic family (don't worry, I've deconstructed all that shit...slowly and painfully), I am such a sucker for religious symbolism fics and this story fulfilled my every desire when it comes to moral ambiguity and metaphor.

Like, good GOD, where do I even begin with describing the prose? If you've read/liked Paradise Lost, I feel like this fic would cater perfectly to your interests. It's a Siren Victor AU, with Yuuri as a (devoutly religious) shepherd. If you're not a fan of florid/surrealist prose, then you might not enjoy this, but I personally loved the way this writer plays with language. Note: this fic is only available to view by registered users on the Archive 

Excerpt: 

Yuuri huffs, closing his jacket around him, sealing warmth in. The wind keeps whistling, frigid and raw.

“I’m not coming with you.”

Viktor pouts, and the ruby red of his lips is like a nauseating warning siren. He has always been unfathomably beautiful. 

“Then why should I do anything for you?”

Viktor begins to sing, husky from the saltwater he has breathed, eroding his throat like the grind of sand, and he reaches towards Yuuri. Light reflects against his sharply silver hair, a hazy spectral play of soft and rough light. He is ethereal. The crescendo of his song kisses across Yuuri’s skin, sharply, wetly; but Yuuri is a devoted man, and he does not make mistakes twice.

“Give Yuuko’s children back.” Yuuri demands starkly. His nails press crescent moons into the skin of his own palms in his pocket. He does not waver.

Viktor is incandescently delighted. “And so Eve came to bargain with the sea-snake?” He asks, mocking.

“No,” Yuuri says, eyes narrowing. “The sword of God comes to slay the Leviathan.”

4) The amtrak incident (12K, by eiua) - NSFW

Relevant Ships/Tags: Viktor/Yuuri, Alternate Universe - College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Up & Making Up 

I've recc'd this author before and it's probably only a matter of time before I go through their entire Dashboard, lol. They do such a great job of weaving in humor and little details into their writing that really makes whatever fic-verse they create come to life. This particular story is an AU featuring Viktor and Yuuri as academics/colleagues at MIT (architecture/urban planning), and a few months into a relationship. However, Viktor's unmanaged ADHD leads to conflict, and this fic features an absolutely brilliant depiction of how he has to take accountability for a mistake he makes, and apologize to Yuuri. The genuine respect they have for one another is so wonderful!

Oh, and it doesn't hurt that their make-up sex is mind-meltingly hot ;)

Excerpt: 

What about conferences? Is he supposed to just watch as Yuuri networks at the bar or run into each other around town and act as if they’re just passing acquaintances when they have, as Chris would joke, known each other biblically? Viktor has never been religious but it’s no understatement to say he could understand worship a whole lot better after sleeping with Yuuri.

And Yuuri is a terrible flirt when he’s drunk. Viktor knows this firsthand. Is Viktor supposed to just turn a blind eye to that and ignore the bile rising in his throat when he sees Yuuri be chummy with someone else? What if Yuuri visits UCLA and reconnects with his poledancing Russian ex-girlfriend and moves away?

Let’s just be friends. No, Viktor can’t just be friends with him, not when their dogs are playmates and Yuuri shares Viktor’s dream of high speed rail in America. Yuuri’s so sweet and sassy too, under all the shyness, and lights a fire in Viktor’s soul when he gets talking about what rail infrastructure would be most cost effective with federal funding.

5) Unstoppable (29K, by Red_Saga) 

Relevant Ships/Tags: Viktor/Yuuri, Post-Canon, Injury Recovery, Supportive Viktor Nikiforov 

This story will almost certainly make you cry, but I promise it'll feel cathartic. This is a post-canon fic (disclaimer, I'm not yet done with it, but have read over half), in which Yuuri suffers a major injury that completely alters his life and career. To be clear: I'm not talking about a sprained ankle or even a torn meniscus, but a spinal injury that puts him in a wheelchair for life. 

As you might expect, this fic details his injury recovery and the process of him coming to terms with/grieving the changes in his life. As someone with a disability, I can be pretty picky about stories in which it's a major topic, so I really appreciate the intentional way this story is written in regards to that; you won't find any trauma porn here. 

Excerpt (from Chapter 3):

Hiroko clicked her tongue. “When you come home, I will make you katsudon.”

Yuuri felt a twinge of some complicated emotion - anticipation, regret, grief, gratitude - that made him feel a bit dizzy for a moment. He wasn’t a skater anymore. The old rules about diet no longer mattered. He would never earn another bowl of katsudon. It was the feeling of one more anchor to his old life breaking free.

It must have showed on his face, because Viktor reached out to squeeze his hand and Hiroko tutted again. “Getting better so you can leave this place is victory enough, I think.”

Viktor brightened up. “That’s right! Yuuri, we need to think of other victories to celebrate!”

“Like escaping the clutches of the doctors?” Yuuri asked, half amused half quizzical.

“Like graduating from physical therapy,” Viktor suggested.

“Like watching someone skate a program you choreographed,” Hiroko added.

Yuuri gaped at her in surprise. Choreograph a program? He’d never thought about - never seriously considered - 

But Hiroko reached out and tapped his hand with a smile. “I see you doing this very often,” she said, and Yuuri realized he had been skating his fingers idly across the surface of his tray table, subconsciously marking out turns, glides, jumps, spins. She bent to pull something from the large bag at her feet (Yuuri’s mother  - always prepared) and handed him a notebook of blank paper and a pen. “But maybe it will work better if you write it down,” she suggested.

Yuuri clutched the notebook in fingers that felt suddenly too hot. He thought he was probably blushing. 

6) Body Electric (3K, by LadyMerlin) - NSFW 

Relevant Ships/Tags: Viktor/Yuuri, Light D/s undertones, Overstimulation, Begging

When an overstim scene is done RIGHT, I just....adfljkasdflkajlfkdf!! Combined with some expert dirty talk from Dom Yuuri, this fic is EVERYTHING. I'm sorry that I don't have anything that eloquent to say here...it's just THAT good, to the point where I felt like I was in a stupor upon finishing it, haha. Note: you have to be a registered Archive user in order to view it

Excerpt:

Viktor made a sound like Yuuri had just stuck his fingers into his very soul and tried to shove back against Yuuri. He didn’t have much leverage so it wasn’t very effective, but Yuuri rewarded his enthusiasm by timing his thrusts together with his hand on Viktor’s cock so that Viktor was instantly at the the edge, constantly and overly stimulated, his voice breaking on the edge of a whine, crumbling into quiet sobbing.

Something snapped inside Yuuri and he started talking. “God, you’re so beautiful when you cry,” he said, low in his throat, picking up his pace. His own hips were beginning to ache and he couldn’t imagine how Viktor felt. “I love seeing you like this,” he continued when Viktor whimpered, “all wrecked and ruined.

Fruits Basket Recs

1) A Second Breath of Spring (11K, by ElvenQueen18) - WIP

Relevant Ships/Tags: Hatori/Kana, Amnesia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending

Hatori lovers, and Hatori/Kana shippers, I think you'd adore this WIP (currently at 4 chapters), because it features a divergence from canon in which Kana doesn't completely forget her memories with him. Of course, this makes for a very confusing/heartbreaking situation for her,  given that she doesn't realize that the "daydreams" she's having of Hatori aren't actually daydreams at all, but rather, are memories of their relationship prior to the confrontation with Akito. The story is beautifully written, and you really feel for Kana as she navigates doing her best to find love, while having to contend with her mind pining for a man that she doesn't realize she once loved/was in love with her

Excerpt (from Chapter 2):

She kissed Hatori for the second time today, sweet and tender and filled to overflowing with all the feelings she had finally expressed out loud and now knew he reciprocated. She pulled away after a moment, still cradling his face, and watched as, through tearful eyes, he gazed at her like she’d just given him the world.

A lump formed in Kana’s throat as she drew back from Daisuke, her eyes stinging horribly. So she couldn’t even kiss her new boyfriend without fantasizing about him. Daisuke, for his part, continued smiling, so he apparently failed to notice her current mood. Or maybe he thinks the sun’s bothering me, she thought as she blinked several more times. She could only hope, she supposed.

“I’ll see you soon,” he told her.

She forced out a hum of agreement before they exchanged farewell bows and went their separate ways for the evening. As she entered the building, rode the elevator to her floor, and opened the door to her one-room apartment, the stinging in her eyes grew worse.

2) Self Mutilator/Holic (5K, orphan account) - NSFW

Relevant Ships/Tags: Akito/Akito, Selfcest, Body Horror, Character Study 

I honestly don't even know where to begin with a blurb for this story; this is one of the most hauntingly beautiful fics I've ever read that touches upon Akito's relationship to gender. There are times when reading this doesn't even feel real, because the way the prose draws you in makes you feel like you're living out a horror movie (but in the very best way). I was enraptured the entire time I was reading.

Excerpt:

Back in her consciousness she sees a demon in a lair, hiding in the darkness and lying in wait. A demon with hair like an ink spill, shiny dark locks reflecting the pale sweet moonlight. 

She sees the demon in the shape of a woman, a beautiful woman with an ample bosom and an elegant shape, clad in a clinging gown the colour of nightshade. A demon with dark eyes that glimmer with mirth, and a twisted smile marring its face. 

Its laughter rings like a twinkling bell through the confines of the room, but it isn’t alone. 

The demons nails are filed sharp like talons, claws made to tear into vulnerable flesh, to shred and rip. A demon’s claws, made for killing and ruining. And yet, these clawed hands are cradling  ever so gently and sweetly—the head of the other Akito. 

The male Akito, who leans lovingly into the demon’s clutches. He’s laughing too, a dark, heaving laugh from the low caverns in his flat chest, a laugh that sounds beautiful along with the bright and high tone of the demon’s giggling. 

Shameless self-promotion: If you've made it all the way to the end of this, I hope you won't mind my reccing my own fanfic. In particular, if you need a reprieve from The Ongoing Horrors, I very recently published this 5K post-canon Viktuuri story, in which they roleplay as strangers meeting for the first time. Hopefully it brings you a laugh :)

On the Fruits Basket end, thanks to interest around this Reddit post I made 2 months ago, I began working on a fic in which Ayame & Ritsu team up to wreak havoc/a bit of harmless fun in Akito's life (as payback for her striking Yuki at the New Years' banquet). Honestly, I just really wish we'd seen more of the Sohmas use their zodiac forms to wrest some control over their lives, so this WIP is my way of making that scenario come to life. I probably won't be able to complete it anytime soon (I need to take a writing hiatus for a few months), but I'm excited about where it's going, nonetheless!

[babsvibes]

It's My Party (and I'll fry if I want to) for director’s cut.

(I think this was the second Louigan fic I read from your account back when I was a lurker, lol.)

Oooo okay forgive me for how wordy this is about to be, but I had a lot of notes about IMP that I ended up publishing in a little notes fic, but I've copied them over below! I can't believe this angsty mess was the second fic you read!! Usually I lure people in with a false sense of security with all my romcom fics 😭 ahhh thank you so much for asking!!

It's My Party (and I'll fry if I want to)

I think this fic is the one I put the most thought into. I didn't want it to come off like a spite fic or anything like that, I just genuinely wanted to tell a story where they're all the good guy and the bad guy and sometimes situations are complicated

So this piece was meant for people who have been told for so long that parts of themselves weren’t worthy of love and believed it, settling for relationships where their needs aren’t met. It's told in present tense to make things feel more in the moment. I didn't shy away from passive language, especially in Louise and Rudy scenes because they are passive participants in their own life, not willing to make active changes, then I tried to use active language with Logan scenes.

Characters:

Rudy

Flaws: Easy going guy with a bit of a pushover nature. He has a tendency to let Louise take care of him in a protective role (not necessarily a flaw, but could be if taken to the extreme).

Exacerbating event: Rudy’s gone back to school to get his masters in engineering. He couldn’t juggle a full time job and coursework, so he is currently unemployed.

How it happened: Being a child of divorce with medical needs, Rudy is used to people making decisions for him and developed a go with the flow attitude towards life. After his perceived failure at juggling too much at once, Rudy retreated further into his own passive behavior in order to avoid the feelings of inadequacy that come with being an adult. This presents itself as stress avoidance, refusal to make decisions, and being easily overwhelmed by small tasks.

When Louise starts a fire, he lets it burn until he can’t ignore it, leading to an explosion. It showcases a different set of value systems that should have been addressed sooner in their relationship but isn’t because of his lax behavior. In this story, just because he goes along with her doesn’t mean he supports her.

Logan

Flaws: Stubborn, escalates situations, egotistical

Exacerbating event: Logan never received closure from him and Louise’s fling.

How it happened: Catalyst shit-eater. Logan and Louise are like minded individuals, often expressing desire for the same thing but on opposing teams (continuing the biker fight, using military tactics for territory on a snowy hill, revenge on whoever wrongs them). Relying on a bit of cultural stereotyping of upper middle class cis white boys, Logan would struggle with expressing feelings of intimacy. In a fling where people don’t communicate clear desires or boundaries, it is possible to cross wires on what is sex and what is something more. In this, Logan would be confused about what he feels for Louise. It makes it even harder when he tries to have a conversation about their relationship and she cuts him out. He moves away having never fully understood what happened between them.

His stubbornness and lack of respect for those around him culminate in him trying to get back with Louise even while she’s in a relationship. Does he know if he actually wants to date her if he succeeds? The reader doesn’t know, but it also doesn’t matter. He is willing to manipulate the situation to his benefit, even honestly admitting to what he’s doing. He is what Louise is missing in her relationship: someone who understands her while still being fun and taking care of himself. Because his flaws are so apparent, breaking up with Rudy to date Logan is a dangerous option.

Louise

Flaws: Struggles communicating feelings though she feels deeply, avoids blame, and money driven

Exacerbating event: Working in a kitchen that isn’t with her family gives her weird hours and normalizes self destructive tendencies

How that works: Louise wants to be the one in charge that takes care of others, godfather style. Combining this with her struggle to express feelings of intimacy (think doesn’t want to admit she has a crush on BooBoo, not admitting she looks up to Bob), Louise isn’t adept at communicating her own needs in a relationship, as her control issues don’t want her to believe that she does need things from others.

Restaurant kitchens can often be breeding grounds for toxic behavior: a combination of high stress, poor sleep, substance abuse as a coping mechanism and aggressive management styles. Kitchens can attract people who don’t have the resources to seek help, which would have exposed Louise to “horror story” relationships to be avoided. None of these factors would be conducive to Louise working through needing more from Rudy, especially when he contradicts her expressing herself in other ways. He shuts her down when she says something violent, which may be for her own good in the long run but it’s not what she needs in the moment.

When she tries to express issues with Rudy, she misdirects and uses an easier topic for her to communicate: money. Financial stress is a huge factor in relationship issues. She brings it up because it’s her way of saying she’s putting more effort into the relationship than Rudy. Rudy sees this as her reminding him of his own inadequacies and shuts down.

Not getting reactions from him, she turns to Logan, who will give her a reaction, who will help her start the fire, and who gives her the attention she needs even if it’s from a selfish place. To her, at least he’s upfront about it. Louise doesn’t need to work with Logan or take care of him. It alleviates the stress of responsibility that’s been weighing her down.

While within the show her family is a support system, in this fic she feels alienated from them, specifically Tina who didn’t approve of her first relationship with Logan due to the very real risk of falling into unhealthy behaviors. Louise interprets this as her family believing her wants are inherently “wrong” and she internalizes the message that she is a bad person for wanting what’s wrong. Rudy unintentionally reinforces this messaging, and that’s why the climax of the fic involves Logan calling her “good” every time she vocalizes a desire.

Motifs and symbols:

Watching TV with someone

Louise is watching TV three separate times with Rudy. All three times, she has to make space for his wants; pausing so he can speak, turning off the volume so he’s not startled by loud noises, and turning it off completely after his digital detox retreat.

Louise watches TV once with Logan, and he’s an active participant.

When Louise tries to engage them in media: Rudy can’t follow her train of thought but Logan plays along

Tearing paper labels as a nervous habit

Open with Louise trying to take a label off without tearing it. It’s her desire to end things but not hurt anyone. She keeps ripping the paper, guaranteeing she will hurt someone.

Logan disregards the ripped paper. He pushes the balled up pieces of paper off the bar and to the floor. He does not care about the hurt they might cause others. He takes the label off her beer for her. He’s willing to hurt others for the end result.

Logan tells her the answer is patience. In Louise’s perspective, she can’t act rashly even though her instinct is to explode. If she takes her time explaining what’s going through her head, there’s less of a chance she’ll hurt someone.

In Logan’s perspective, his end goal (sleeping with Louise) also requires patience. He’s telling her he will be patient.

The last label, the wine, is unnoticed by Louise. She is past the point of caring if she hurts someone

Food

Food is effort

Louise’s life is dedicated to food and therefore effort. She works in a kitchen, where her effort is rarely rewarded and leaves her tired. She cooks soup for Rudy, and he doesn’t eat it

Logan made dinner for himself. It’s not great, but he tried. Louise makes it better. They put in effort for themselves but the other benefits

Rudy’s efforts are: To order food in (reliance on others), Cook boxed stroganoff (only contribute minimum), And to forget to turn on the oven (cannot finish a task)

Logan is seen ordering treats that are more expensive or require a trip, because he puts in effort for what he wants

The climax is revealed that Logan is improving his cooking. Not because Louise told him to, but he wanted to be better

Again, it comes from a place of ego, but it doesn’t matter. Rudy lacks the ego and the ability to put in effort. Louise seeks the opposite of Rudy, and Logan is the opposite in the extreme.

Orgasms

Allowing for pleasure. Rudy can’t bring it, Louise can’t find it, Logan won’t let it go

Flowers

Empty promises. They look nice but they don’t solve anything. Begonias are a bad omen (Try to move past this one like a throwaway line so flower symbolism isn’t so heavy handed)

Noisy neighbors

With Rudy, it’s a sign of external disruption and lack of peace With Louise and Logan, they ARE the noisy neighbors, causing the disruption and chaos

Louise is an unreliable narrator

She always calls the bartender a different Eli name. His real name is Erik, but she was too drunk to read properly

Louise cries but doesn’t realize it like when she’s driving away after Rudy doesn’t eat the soup. Rudy assumed the soup was something she was testing for work, not something for him to eat. She cries a second undisclosed time

Rudy knows she’s hiding something, but because she doesn’t think he can tell when she’s lying it never comes up. Undetermined if he knows she’s cheating on him

Louise never makes a note of the good things Rudy does. He does listen to her vent but sets boundaries for his own safety. When she gets aggressive, it scares him, but Louise considers it proof that she’s a bad person he can’t handle

Logan is intentional

Every time it’s revealed that Rudy is incapable of meeting one of Louise’s needs, Logan turns around and proves that he can meet that need. He is doing it purposefully to persuade her away from Rudy He dresses up whenever Louise comes over, purely to make himself more attractive. When he’s wearing white, he’s being manipulative

Biggest mistakes

-Louise refuses to communicate openly and cheats -Rudy struggles to be an active agent in his own life while discouraging Louise in hers. Most noticeably by refusing to fix the shower head and telling her to calm down -Logan refuses to soften his ego or make himself safer

Mood Music (for myself)

Love Again - Run the Jewels (for the sex scene) Judy’s Turn To Cry - Lesley Gore (a flavor of manic sadness) Scotty Doesn’t Know - I forget (for when Logan’s being cocky) Our Perfect Disease - The Wombats (when Rudy and Louise aren’t working) Lethal Combination - The Wombats (when Louise and Logan are working but they shouldn’t) Najwa - a real coworker but her name means secret

It is okay to try to gain experience in other kinds of writing and genres through practice. You are not a bad person for writing about something taboo.

[eclipse-ofthe-sun]

Berrie OC Introduction: Flossie!

Name: Florence 'Flossie' Hare

Age: 21

DnD class: warlock, pact of the chain, fae patron

Flossie is a sweet and hardworking maid in the employment of Lord and Lady Lyness of Tamont. Chosen and trained by her aunt who has worked for the family for many years, Flossie grew into herself in the Lyness manor, and is loved by both servant and family. One night, while dusting the shelves of the windows that look out into the gardens, she notices a glow, and against her better judgement, goes to investigate. There she meets a colourful rabbit with fairy wings who introduces himself as Lathlaeril, an emissary of the Green Lord and King of the fairies, Oberon. He then asks if she is up for the task of becoming one of Oberon's chosen, to protect the prime material plane from anything that threatens its natural life, and to become a part of the fae courts by binding of magic. Brave and impulsive and perhaps a little mystified by the whole prospect, says she will try her best. Since then, she's been fighting evils and trying to figure out who she is in this new life of hers.

Art by @amarynth !!

design notes, inspiration, misc details below the cut

Oberon (and Titania) are here, also by @amarynth because Flossie lives in their world of Aophara!! I have a few ocs in their world, with Flossie being the latest due to my more recent hyperfixation on magical girl stuff thats returned from my childhood.

in terms of magical girl design, her main colour palette is pink and green, very spring-like, and also very lolita. here are the main visual references i have, including something i drew on instagram when i first made her lol. these do not include the fact she for sure has a little cotton bunny tail, and a headpiece with bunny ears on it, and her hair turns pink with green at the end in her magical girl form too.

she has both a lance for melee combat and a magical girl wand for spells/abilities - eldritch blast has been reflavoured visually to be a magical girl attack, and yes, she does have magical girl activation words (bunny blossom beam!! is her eldritch blast one). i've worked her dnd stats and abilities to give her and lathlaeril (layla for short) the ability to psychically communicate to each other, and eventually her bunny blossom beam will have a maaaassive range. if anyone wants to see the character sheet im happy to provide it especially bec i had to remake it bec i lost the first one in my unorganised files

thats all for now!! i love her <3

[nanaloco]

If you find these keys, please return to ______'

where you loose your keys, and a kind stranger happens to find them for you MKL

Stranger!Marklee x fem!reader

This ff has a lot to do with Mario kart so heres premise for those of you who don't know lol, I want to do it in a fun way so it will be through bestfriend!Haechan teaching you how to play ♡♡

——-

When you finally moved into your apartment your mother practically forced you to put this -ugly- keychain onto your main house keys on one of those yellow key tabs that reads 'If you happen to find these keys, please return to apartment number __ at _______'. Reading it back now, it would've been far much more convenient to just add a phone number. She says a kind person is more likely to spot them than a bad one this way, and it could save your life, whatever that means. But It's far beyond that point now, you thought as you stuff your keys into your right pocket as you see your bus approaching, making sure to swiftly take your bus pass out. You board the bus beginning to think about the group project meeting you have to attend after class, long forgetting the crime your mismatch keys are while sinking into you seat. What you didn't know was that your critique of your set of keys would be the last time you'd set your eyes on them, so you thought.

You only realise this misfortune as you arrive to your front door and reach into your right pocket to purge your keys from the depths of your lilac hoodie that it dawns upon you, you've lost your keys....

As you call your mum in panick, you hear the phone ringing from inside the appartment, a wave of relief washing over you. It turns out your mother was just 'checking the place out' and dropping off some food for you, but that was the least of your concerns for now. You need to figure out where the hell you put your keys.

You soon find yourself sat alone, as your mum left, on your fushia couch in your living room, with no way of returning until you leave; you decide to wait and hope that someone is kind enough to travel all the way from wherever you left ypur keys and return them to you. You felt almost like a princess trapped in a castle waiting for her knight in shining armour to set her free.

When you're in a crisis, what do you do? You opt to calling your best friend Haechan, who suggests a 'friendly' game of mario kart, which we all know, that there is no friendly in mario kart, well not with haechan at least. You explain to him your situation, which he laughs at you for -obviously- and dismissively suggests getting another key cut, which is out of the question as that was your only set of keys, as your mums already driven back, and getting someone to come in for the lock is expensive and-

Theres suddenly a ring of your doorbell and a knock of your door which catches you off guard as you look down at your phone and acknowlege the 2 hour time mark of your call with haechan.

'Haechan I'll call you later, someones at my door'

'Maybe its the person with the k-'

You hung up the phone, cutting him off before dashing to your front door, opening it while slightly adjusting your hair.

You open the door to be met with a brown haired boy who's looking down at a note attatched to a set of keys.

You recognise him, he’s a face you’d seen before. A flat mate? From the floor below?

'If you find these keys, please return them return toooo'

'....?'

He looks up at you expectingly

And there was a LONG awkward silence, where you just stare at him, out of shock more than anything else.

'This is supposed to be the part where you say your name'

'…..Y/n...'

'What's your name?'

'Mark, Mark lee'

'Cool, could I get my keys...Mark'

'Sure....'

He looks over your shoulder for a split second taking in your appartment and looking at the TV screen which has the Mario kart's home screen on display, looking below the screen to see your switch.

'Yo you didn't tell me you had mario kart on your switch!'

He says while walking into your lounge. 'I didn't even tell you he had a switch.’ You say closely following behind him. '...uh, could I get my keys please?'

Now this random man has just invited himself into your house, maybe you shouldn't have hung up on hyuck midsentance.

'If you can beat me'

He says throwing himself Onto your couch. 'Bro I don't even know you.’ ‘Well my name is mark Lee, I’m a first year business student who lives in the floor below you :).’ He introduces himself, to get you familiar with him. ‘ girl gtfo my house I will call campus security.’ You deadpan, unimpressed by his attempt to become acquainted with you. ‘You're just saying that cuz you know you'll lose'

Feeling the competitive spirit haechan passed onto you rise in you chest and feeling confident in your Mario cart skills, your mario kart tournament with 'Mark' begins.

The match begins well, Mark got a late start leaving you in the lead, you win the match and smirk at him you then roll your eyes and scoff while  holding your hand out signalling for your keys.

'I-I didn't say one match, best of 3!’ He replies quicker than he should have.

'And I didn't invite you into my house but here we are' you shoot back

Again, theres an awkward silence while you're just staring at eachother.

He just presses start the next game unexpectedly while still making eyecontact causing you to fumble and drop your controler which slides under your coffee table leaving your character stationary when the game starts, mark trailing of in 1st place.

By the time you finally recollect your controller, the rest of the players have already completed half of the first lap, Mark glancing at you with a shit eating grin.

Collecting every lucky block you could find, praying for a blue shell as 12th place shines in the corner of your screen, mark crosses the finish line and goes 'woooo!' With the games sound of him crossing the finish line while throwing his hands in the air. Causing your knuckles to itch for a connection to his face.

'You're so lame' you say scoffing causing mark to slowly lower his hands, lowkey hurt.

'Start the next damn round' you say while sighing and playing the next game.

The third game is the most tense, abusing your controllers and leaning back and forward, rocking side to side, as if it has any impact on the movement of your game character. You bump shoulders, and elbows with him as you both desperately try to overtake eachother, switching between first and second place.

‘You’re so not gonna win this by the way x’ you taunt at him, he replies with a scoff, giving you an unimpressed look ‘just keep your eyes on the damn screen’.

‘And take one last good look at it.’ A threatening voice booms from behind you, causing you both to jump, clinging to each other slightly. Not registering the words, you panick, your mother’s past words coming back to you.

Campus patrol, and you had a forbidden electronic. It’s only as you see your door still swaying open from marks entry that you mentally cuss him out, giving him a look that could burn his head off with enough time.

once your tv is confiscated, you sit on your couch staring at the empty space on your floor.

‘Fuck you’ you finally break the silence saying looking back at him. ‘He-here’s your keys haha’ he says passing them to you. ‘Get the fuck out.’ ‘Yes miss Y/n’ he says very quickly scurrying out of your dorm.

Marks heart was beating fast, and he clutches his chest smiling to himself like a Disney character when he leaves your apartment. He thinks back to how he just walked in saying dumb stuff and cringes to himself, but hearing your laugh, and being the reason to cause it, instead of hearing it from your flats kitchen, it didn’t matter to him how dumb he looked. He walked back down the stairs of his apartment, greeting his flatmate haechan, who already received a phone call from you about what happened, bursting out in laughter upon his entry .

‘You totally blew it man’

‘Her smile was really pretty tho’

Not too long before, Haechan came back to the dorms, and passed mark a set of keys, with a bear keychain similar to his own, and gave mark a knowing look. Mark looked confused but read the note and pieced things together. ‘You can’t say I don’t have your back man.’

How the keys found the right person, isn’t really certain, but the doors that they opened are evident with time.

————————

I miss mark lee

#nctdream #nctdreamfluff #nanaloco #marklee #nctmark #nctfanfic #nctficrecs #nctdreammark #nct127 #nct127mark #fluff

[static-electric-dreams]

Hmm, this Other Skies party looks kinda familiar....

Design notes below 👇

Laios: Eshenali Knight

I obviously wanted Laios and Falin to be "dragons," but it was hard to decide what color scales to give Laios (Falin, who I'll draw later, is of course red and fluffy). I settled on white with golden eyes, lol. He has more futuristic power armor here and carries a light sword inhabited by a strange alien creature. I also want to say he cuts/shaves the fur off his tail and feet for Personal Reasons. In Other Skies, he's obsessed with alien beasts in lieu of monsters.

Senshi: Zair Survivor

Senshi is already perfectly suited for the survivor class, and it made sense to translate him to a hairy and magnanimous Zair with black fur and brown markings. He lived out in the dangerous wilderness of Palazair before meeting his current party, and makes sure to always have some grub around to keep people's psyche up. Think of how fast one could cook with four hands!

Marcille: Sucralite Psion

I had a hard time deciding what species to translate Marcille into, but I think the glamorous and androgynous Sucralites are the best analog to elves that I can think of. Other Skies!Marcille might have a more Sucralite name ("Ambrosia" might actually be a good one), or they might choose to present as feminine while traveling. Her staff has been translated to a high-tech device that can connect to her thoughts and amplify her psychic power, thus making her attacks stronger.

Chilchuck: Santornan Assassin

I chose the "assassin" class for Chilchuck because it's the one with the most lockpicking and sneaking related moves and skills; the name implies that killing is the end result, but it doesn't have to be. He's of course a Santornan because of their small stature and "cute" faces. He has a closed piercing hole where his wedding earring once was. As a side note, I considered changing his color palette to blues and pinks to match Santornan aesthetics, but I wanted the design to be recognizable so I didn't. Maybe another time!

In the future I also want to draw Falin, Kabru, Izutsumi, and perhaps Thistle.... We shall see.

[thegeminisage]

assorted personal quests, mostly. disclaimers so nobody comes for me:

EYE think mahariel wanted to stay and die with their clan rather than leaving bc they were in love w tamlen. ymmv

zevran of course could do just fine with anybody but i have a difficult time seeing with with nobility, ESPECIALLY human nobility, bc. yk. but i think alistair's general silliness plus his deep and recent grief works well with a cousland who has just lost everything and a cousland who has practice being noble works well as like. a partner to make the possibility of being king feel like scary and less like a cage.

not that zevran is not silly!! he is definitely silly! i just have my thots and feelings and i think some romances match up better with some wardens. i have the same opinion for all the games that have multiple origins (so, everything but da2).

further rambling about this under the cut (it's long)

back when i first played origins, i had this all planned out. i was gonna play once as each origin (though there was very little point in doing the circle mage twice) and i mapped out ahead of time which origins i thought would go best with which romances. (originally i did amell/alistair and then cousland/alistair and was gearing up to do a mahariel/zevran before i got burned out and put it down for the next 10+ years.) with the final additional disclaimer that obviously any warden DOES work with any romance when you believe in yourself and your mind palace, i've modified my opinions somewhat and they now look kind of like this:

brosca - would do great with zevran or leliana because of shared experiences re: people treating them like they are expendable and seeing the worst parts of society. i think either dwarf would do okay with morrigan (shared interest in the blight as a fact of life, not judgy about magic), though i have an easier time seeing morrigan with aeducan simply because she likes someone with manners and that doesn't feel like brosca's style lol, but i can't see a brosca with alistair at all...i think he'd be too close to nobility for them not to have a little bitterness and resentment when he expresses dismay at how things are going for him?? because. yk. things are not great for him, but he lacks the perspective of like. fucking dust town.

aeducan - they would work great w/ alistair for the reasons listed above, because they understand grief and betrayal and how nobility is its own sort of burden, but i think they'd do BEST with leliana, bc leliana having rubbed shoulders with nobility would lead to them to having similar life experiences and things to talk about (girl aeducan and leliana girl talk about shoes lol), AND bc leliana definitely intimately also knows betrayal that wrecks your entire life, and they can help each other figure out what comes after that. would do okay with morrigan as well for the reasons listed above. i have a harder time seeing them with zev because of the nobility thing...i don't think it would actively put him off necessarily just that he would find it easier to relax (as much as he ever relaxes) around someone of a similar like. social class. like, before all this, aeducan could have fucking hired him lol

cousland - would work very well w/ alistair and leliana for the reasons listed above, but also not a bad match for morrigan, because again, morrigan really likes when people have good manners, and cousland if one of the wardens more likely to have those - assuming the cousland in question isn't weird about mages, which i feel is a definite possibility. this is the romance i think works the least well with zevran though because like. cousland has elven servants at their HOUSE. zevran may not be actively put off by nobility but he definitely takes note of how the warden treats other people, esp people below them, and a cousland who isn't class and race conscious (and IS cousland really gonna be class and race conscious?) risks some, uh, blunders.

amell & surana - either mage warden would do best with morrigan i think, bc she can teach them to shapeshift, which is such a closely-held and important part of her identity, and it's very wonderful that it can be something she can share with a romantic partner (true of magic in general, also). either mage would also do okay with alistair, simply because of the natural tension born from the bond between a former circle mage and an almost templar (though imo the alistair/mage romance is not nearly as fun in that area as the cullen/mage romance from da:i), tho ofc if alistair becomes king he can't get hitched to a mage. for the specific difference between and amell and a surana, i think the former would do slightly better w leliana (higher potential for shared religion, amell is from a noble family but cut off from them so they both have that thing of knowing how all that works without truly being a part of it) and the latter would do slightly better with zevran (elves who got pulled away from their families at a young age!), though those would be my last picks for either of them.

mahariel - my first pick for mahariel would be zevran by a mile, because zevran has a bit of a fascination with the dalish (although what city elf wouldn't). and imo as i said earlier mahariel was probably ready to throw in the towel after tamlen disappeared. both them and zevran lose romantic partners under traumatic circumstances, become suicidal after, and are then confronted unexpectedly with seeing tamlen and taliesin again later...i think they'd have so much in common. second pick for mahariel would be morrigan because both of them have a strong connection with nature and don't really feel comfortable and at home in cities. leliana is third (she and the dalish share a love of oral tradition). i have the most trouble seeing mahariel with alistair but IT COULD WORK i feel like mahariel is in general more chill about humans than a tabris would be because mahariel doesn't have to take shit from them day in and day out

tabris - ZEVRAN ZEVRAN ZEVRAN. for the reasons stated above. they both know what it is to be expendable and a girl tabris especially understands what it is like to be sexualized by people you have no interest in, but in particular human men. i also enjoy a tabris who Does Not want to get married because they're too busy grieving for their mom to care about romance and so they go into this thing with zevran almost as clueless as he is. tabris is also the protagonist who has the biggest potential to have a hate-on for humans which makes zevran the obvious choice from the process of elimination alone. THAT SAID, a hate-on for humans could lead to an interesting relationship w alistair, esp if they wanna put him on the throne because they genuinely believe (or want to believe) he could do better by their people. i also think a tabris could do well with leliana bc iirc isn't their mom in leliana's dlc?? and i know their mom is someone they hold close to their heart, and also the main source of their bitterness re: humans, so it'd be nice for them to have something like memories of their mom to share with leliana. bonus points for a girl tabris w/ leliana bc being a woman is just like that. i am the least compelled by a morrigan/tabris romance but it's not like there's nothing there!! just that the others are better.

anyway my final lineup would look like, in order from most to least preferred...

brosca - zevran, leliana, morrigan, alistair

aeducan - leliana, alistair, morrigan, zevran

cousland - alistair, leliana, morrigan, zevran

amell - morrigan, alistair, leliana, zevran

surana - morrigan, alistair, zevran, leliana

mahariel - zevran, morrigan, leliana, alistair

tabris - zevran, leliana, alistair, morrigan

or, alternatively...

zevran - tabris, mahariel, brosca, surana, amell, aeducan, cousland

morrigan - amell, surana, mahariel, aeducan, cousland, brosca, tabris

alistair - cousland, tabris, amell, surana, aeducan, mahariel, brosca

leliana - aeducan, tabris, mahariel, brosca, cousland, amell, surana

YES there is an obvious bias for zevran and morrigan and ig also tabris DON'T. worry about it. thank you for coming to my ted talk.