#everything takes So Fucking Much and the only way i can do anything is to not think about anything bc that will get me

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you pick it up obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 6 (use whole signs and sidereal)

🐻‍❄️ I said it before that moon in 6th house people can be great leaders, and since then I met 4 new people with moon in 6th and I've come to the conclusion that rather than being the leader, these people work better as the right hand person of a leader. They're much better at following the instructions rather than giving them.

🔵 If you are a girl, and you have mars aspecting Saturn and vice versa, I would HIGHLY recommend you guys to marry a non binary person. This placement can cause unpleasant situations to arise if you don't take the right measures. So I won't say, don't marry, or your married life will be bad, but rather, marry someone who is comfortable expressing both their feminine and masculine side.

🐻‍❄️ if your 7th lord of d1 is in the 3rd house of d9 and the planet is a natural malefic like, Saturn, mars or sun, then it can make you fight with your siblings after marriage. I know 3 people with this and now none of them talk to their siblings. So i would recommend you guys to not listen to your spouse when it comes to your siblings. If you have a good relationship with siblings then first, talk to them rather than believing someone who you just met.

🔵 In vedic, sun is considered to be dead when it's in the 12th house, and the common interpretation is that they cannot be good leaders but I view it a little differently. I know a lot of people with this who are SOO GOOD at leading people BUT they have zero self confidence and it genuinely pisses me off so much because one of my friend has this and I always push her to apply for HOD positions but she's like "no, I can't do it" like GIRL, ATLEAST TRY FIRST. So if you have this, just trust yourself and apply for that position. All I'll say is "A real loser is someone who is so afraid of not winning, they don't even try"

🐻‍❄️ I know quite a few people who say that mars in Aries/ scorpio is better when it's in the chart of a man but I don't agree with that. Maybe I'm being biased because I have it but I think that women handle this placement better. Men already have so much fucking audacity and with mars being so strong it just gets multiplied by 100. I feel like these are the men who make podcasts about how a woman's purpose is to be a submissive breedable bitch for a man. Whereas, some of the most successful businesswomen have their mars in Aries/Scorpio/ Capricorn (the effect is multiplied when it's in the 1,4,7, 10 house). women are literally taught to put everyone else's needs before theirs but with mars being so strong they don't give a fuck, because now they embody those traditional "masculine" traits like being a selfish asshole.

🔵 Honestly, the real men, the ones who embody all the good masculine traits are those who have Jupiter in 1,4,10 house. I can give 100 examples from my personal life but, all I'll say is that Keanu Reeves has this....they are the ones who are actually the protectors, providers, brave, strong and dominant in a gentle way. Also, I'm like 100% sure that Carlisle Cullen would have this if he was a real person.

🐻‍❄️ Also, 7th lord of d9 in 1st or 4th house of d9 gives you a future spouse who represents your "ideal type". As I've said many times before, I only know 2 happily married straight couples 🥲 and both of them have this, so in one couple, both the wife and the husband have it and in another, the wife has it. I also know a lesbian couple and both the wives have this. I didn't cross check it with celebrities since most of them put on a facade.

🔵 Jupiter in 6th house....these people have such good luck. It's like, they get everything so easily and the worst part is that they don't know how to work and yet they keep on getting promoted because of nepotism and corruption, and the person who says anything against them gets fired. I wish I was making this observation based on one person, but I know FIVE people with this and it's the same case with all of them.

🐻‍❄️ Mercury in 10th is a placement that I've been seeing quite a lot these days, literally every chart I see has this. These people can be GREAT therapists and journalists from what I've seen, or they may also be the "mom" friend in their group. They're also very social and love interacting with people, they may be the most beloved in their friend group like "if you don't go then we won't go either" type. I'm a little jealous of them tbh, love their ability to light up the room with their presence.

🔵 Venus in 8th, I feel like this is going to be a little negative 😭. These people are very much into the hook up culture, especially men. I feel like they would be happier in a polyamorous relationship. This is also the placement that I do not like seeing in d9, I don't fuck with people who have this but I know many people who are okay with such unconventional relationships, and if you're one of those, then good for you. You don't have to fit in boxes made by other people. If you like something, then you like that, period. (If you're not like this, good, don't start ranting in the comments, it's annoying)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2025

[sleep-0-deprived]

⋆˚࿔Brahms Heelshire thoughts~!𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Taglist: @asher-is-hotxp @unstab1eperson2 @kimisbunny @yyuinaa @silvern1006

A/N: jus some thoughts N’ personal feels bout one of ma fav boys, N’ written specifically for @creepy141dollie <33

𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚

Personally I like thinkin Brahms S’ a big Ol baby, he’s touch starved at’ death N’ when you’re his new baby sitter all he can wonder as’ why’re you a boy? Where’s his nanny at…he’s silent as always creeping through in the walls just watchin the way you do things- he can’t deny how good ya are at all tha domestic stuff, house hubby material S’ what he first thought when he seen ya. You’re a sassy man he can tell that much bout you from the way you scold him and push out your bottom lip when lookin up at him, he doesn’t know how you made it past his old fashioned parents- maybe ya charms work on everyone.

Brahms S’ a total creep, he gives no privacy he stalks ya like a dog, he lurks even when ya ask him not to, he is obsessed all tha time- his infatuation holds no bounds N’ he isn’t afraid T’ watch your most intimate moments in tha shower or when you touch ya’self, Brahms hates when you lecture him, talkin bout how you wont let his cock near you sayin stuff like, “I only reward good boys” even tho knowin you, you’d start T’ feel bad N’ give into him by the end of the night— how could ya not with the way he begs you, his voice cracks N’ you can practically feel his tears behind that porcelain mask.

Bein his babysitter means giving up your life- he’s crazy N’ he’s toxic for you but you can’t bring yourself to leave him…you jus feel bad- he holds you an’ praises you like a god when he wants but he screams N’ throw fits over you when he’s upset— Y’ know you should runaway but you jus can’t- you’re in too far now anyway S’ why even bother to try N’ leave him? Ever since you took that job everything feels cold- the air, Your body N’ it’s all porcelain like, just like his mask. You used T’ love shopping but the most you do is go out into town T’ pick up groceries then ya go back to Brahms…that house has made you isolated from th’ world N’ Brahms doesn’t care at all, he jus wants you to himself.

Brahms is a manipulator, he uses your soft spots to get his ways, he promises all ya wanna hear jus to get you T’ stay. Brahms acts all innocent like he isn’t tha reason for your change in personality N’ he isn’t the reason you’re starting T’ slowly lose that sass, he’s worn ya down into a tired parent like person. Brahms uses his tears T’ wrap you around his finger knowin you can’t resist the way he clings to you like a god, Brahms worships the ground you walk on when you give him what he wants which is to ultimately have you forever.

Brahms S’ pent up all the time, sneakin off into your room when he needs tha love, not Carin bout anything jus getting your shorts down enough T’ shove his dick in ya while you sleepily hiss into the pillows whining bout how he’s bein rough- Brahms whimpers- he try’s ta be quiet but when your hole sucks him back N’ he loses it like a puppy poutin and moaning away on top of you clutching onto you hard while his hips erratically fuck you in ya sheets

Brahms fav position is cowgirl tho it should probably be cowboy W’ you on top- your hand gripping his shoulders working up N’ down taking his cock with ease while his eyes hold contact W’ yours- his breath is shaky N’ he can’t control how weak he feels but somethin bout his fave being covered starin into your soul the whole time has ya buckin down on his cock wildly “please- please, I need you, only you- just you- please” your body melted when those words left his mouth oh so pathetically- how could this be the same man who broke you down? How could he.. before you know it his semen S’ floodin inside you filling ya all full.

[dreamerimpossible]

His reaction when you say someone else's name during sex.

Warnings: +18 content, unhealthy relationships, mentions of violence, dark content, toxic behavior, threats.

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Masky, Hoodie, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby.

Jeff the Killer

He covers your mouth and proceeds to fuck you even more violently than before. He chokes you and thinks he's suffocating the person you named. Your legs will shake after that. When he's done, he looks at you angrily; you know he's about to make a jealous scene. There's screaming and abuse. Neither of you can control yourself. He kills the person. You make a scene too; he continues it: there's a lot of stuff lying around. You have hate sex. He makes a jealous scene, then remembering what happened, you get angry and continue the argument. Just a big vicious cycle.

Masky

He stops. He looks at you through his mask. I'd like to say he'd fuck you more violently and get even, but he'd probably get really angry, and that would make him not want to have sex anymore. He yells at you and blames you. Lots of threats and reminders that he has you in his hands to do whatever he wants. He's a scary man. The only way to get him to stop acting like this is to tell him that you don't care if that person dies or not. The next morning you find something meaningful from the other person on your nightstand; you have to hold back your scream; otherwise he'll think you lied to him. Depending on how you react, that will be his reaction. If you have no reaction at all, he'll relax, thinking it was just a little slip-up on your part.

Hoodie

He plays with you. He records you and degrades you. He leaves videos for the person you named to see. The videos are embarrassing, you repeatedly moaning “Hoodie” until your throat hurts and your voice cracks. Your naked body with bruises and scratches. You with your legs spread wide open as Masky and Hoodie take turns fucking you. You in the woods in handcuffs as you sat naked in the grass while he masturbated and you waited for his cum with a fervor absolutely unknown to you. You're begging Hoodie to touch you while he makes you say the dirtiest, most lustful things you've ever heard. You in different positions... I think you get the idea.

Laughing Jack

He'd be amused. He's a sadist. I doubt he'd be interested in sex without some extra incentive. So that just makes things better. Maybe he'll kidnap the guy and tie him to the bleachers as the only spectator of his circus show and force him to watch as he uses you sexually and plays with your body no matter what you say. It all ends in a sordid game of laughing jack, and you frankly think it would have been much better if he just felt jealous. But you know what he's like; you know the boundaries of his sanity have been pushed and taken with him, so you'll probably ask for more and more pain and be glad that the guy is so disgusted watching it.

Ticci Toby

He stops abruptly. Someone could get hurt. You didn’t know who: him, the guy you named, or you. You didn’t know; it depended on how well he processes things. You back away from him slowly, with fine rigor, not letting him see that you’re scared of him. You could see him making confusing decisions in his mind. You can’t do anything but wait and pray that he doesn’t show you his bad side. You avoid explanations; you avoid everything. Any sound. You don’t have to prove that you exist in that room. He doesn’t calm down, but he leaves; he was so angry with you. He doesn’t come back for a few weeks. When he comes back, he expects you to still be sorry and ask for forgiveness. You do. You don’t know if it’s out of fear or love, but you do.

[dwaekkicidal]

Hyunjin and toys was so gooooood!!!! I can’t wait for Lee know 😋

Toys with Lee Know

wc» ~900

cw» fem!reader, sex toy usage, vibrator (f receiving), anal, cockwarming, slight mention of overstim, mentions of oral (m rec), think thats it

cw» idk if i like this or not lol. but i hope you guys like it

'Toys' Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

His favorite: Rabbit Vibrator.

Soo many toys come to mind when I think of Lino, but specifically, I think he would eat up those rabbit vibrator toys. They’re pretty “tame” compared to the other toys he likes, but I think he would love being able to be sweet and slow about it- but also be able to be a complete asshole with it (which unfortunately for you is his fave way)

Minho’s hips rolled forward overwhelmingly slowly, his cock hitting as deep into your ass as he could manage. Your poor hole was swollen and sensitive, thanks to the thorough fucking your boyfriend has given you. Your cunt is equally as worn out- your lips puffy and clit achy as the thrusts and vibrations never end. If you knew anything about Minho- it was that he loved to have you like this. He loved taking you apart piece by piece just to build you back up. And take you apart he did.

“Just like that, Jagi.”

You can barely hear his voice over the sloshy sounds of your filled holes and your cries of overstimulation, but that’s one of his favorite parts. So much so that he occasionally drops your wrists from his free hand in favor of pushing his palm against your mouth, muffling your moans so that he could hear each and every drop of your combined releases drooling out of your hole.

Both of your first orgasms were shared romantically, hands tangled and bodies pressed against each other. But the 2nd and so on were pulled from your bodies like this- you in his lap sitting pretty and absolutely stuffed to the brim. Your pretty ass was cockwarming him while he had his fill of abusing your pussy with one of his favorite toys.

The little bunny ears of the vibrator always slotted perfectly around the sides of your clit no matter how slow or fast his wrist pushed- he made sure of it. When he wasn’t spreading your leg open or holding your wrists down, he was spreading your folds with his middle and ring fingers so that he could make sure you felt everything.

“No more…” He hums into your neck in response, biting down on it softly as he fights the devil on his shoulder.

“One more.” It’s more of a statement, but the tone in his voice lets you know it’s up for debate if you can’t take it. A whine leaves your throat as you tilt your head backwards, giving him more space to work with on your neck and giving him the answer you know he wanted to hear. A wordless ‘Do as you please.’

He tries so hard to fight back the smirk, but it appears all too easily when he angles his wrist slightly and pushes. He pushes so eagerly that the veins in his arms pop out- something you can only feel from the way your nails dig into his arms. Like this, the tip of the toy nudges right against your g-spot, making your eyes roll into the back of your head and your jaw drop to your chest.

Despite the blurriness in your eyes, you manage to watch as Minho fucks the toy into you over and over again- making sure to roll it forward as he pushes in to imitate the way his hips would fuck into you.

A gasp leaves your throat when you feel the knot suddenly snapping in your stomach, you were so out of it that you hadn’t even noticed how close your orgasm was. But he knew- he always knew. And part of you was happy he knew because he bottomed the toy out the second your orgasm hit, moving his hand to push the bunny ears down against your clit with his thumb with enough pressure to make you cum hard.

Instinctively your hand shoots out to his that was around the toy and you tried desperately to push it off. The vibrations combined with the pressure make your orgasm so much stronger than you were used to, making your body twitch uncontrollably. He only huffs out a laugh and snatches your hand with his free one, intertwining your fingers together and preventing you from pushing him off of you.

As you come down from what was probably the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, he loosens the pressure on your clit and pulls the toy out of you. He turns the vibrations to one of the lowest settings and teases the length of it along your folds, rubbing you with it and making you shake in overstimulation. Your leg kicks out and he laughs again, this time caving and pulling the toy away from your body to shut it off.

Your eyes open and close slowly as you try to regain complete consciousness and Minho sits behind you patiently, caressing your head and your arms as he helps urge you back to normal. Once he’s sure that you’re fairly back, he eases you off his cock and helps you sit upright on the bed.

“Min… You didn’t cum yet?” He shakes his head and pulls you into a kiss, wrapping one of his veiny hands around the back of your neck to pull you into him. “I can go again- wan’ you to feel good too.”

“Mmm.” He pulls away and looks off for a moment before smiling at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb until it reaches your bottom lip. ‘Think you can put that pretty mouth of yours to use instead?”

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[mminghaos]

pure hate sex with bsf Woozi coz you seemed to not tell him you've been crushing on him since you were in diapers. but it's hate sex, coz still now you are unable to tell him that and he just hates you coz he too loves you so much

hate me later , lee jihoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: you and jihoon are both too stubborn to admit your feelings, so instead, you take out all your pent-up anger on each other.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex (don’t do this!!), hate sex, choking, degration

requests open, do send some in !!

"you're so fucking annoying."

jihoon growls into your ear, the rhythm of his hips unforgiving. his hands grip your waist, fingers digging in as he pulls you onto him from behind.

"and yet, you're always here," you fire back, trying to maintain some semblance of control, though your voice betrays you with each breathless gasp. "guess i'm just too irresistible for you, huh?"

his hand makes its way to your neck, putting just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. "don't flatter yourself," he snaps, his tone venomous. he keeps his pace steady, the pressure building in your chest, but the words are cutting through you like knives.

"i fucking hate you,” jihoon spits out, his voice seething with anger, with disdain, like he can't stand the sight of you, can't stand the sound of your voice, but can't stop fucking you either.

his thrusts become harsher, as if he's trying to punish you for existing, for making him feel this. "you always make things so difficult — fuck — you’re everywhere. can’t seem to get away from you.

the words hit harder than his thrusts, like a slap across your face, and yet, you're still here. you hate him, but the way his cock drags in and out of you sends waves of heat coursing through your body, making it impossible to resist. "i hate you, too," you spit out, your chest tightening as the pleasure mixes with the anger, making you dizzy. "but you can't stop fucking me, can you?"

jihoon's eyes narrow, a bitter laugh escaping him. "you think i want this?" he growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he forces you down onto him. "you're fucking delusional. i don't want anything from you."

you feel the bitterness in his words, the contempt radiating from him with every movement, but it only makes your body ache for more. the contradiction makes your heart race, and you try to keep the anger in your voice, even though your body is betraying you, shuddering under each punishing thrust. "you don't hate me," you challenge, your voice low, almost pleading, despite yourself. "you can't hate me if you keep coming back."

"you don’t know anything." jihoon hisses, his grip tightening until your skin feels like it's burning under his touch."i can't help myself. i fucking hate that you make me want to break every rule."

his thrusts become even more forceful, brutal, each one driving deep into you, sending waves of pleasure that blend with the pain from his grip on your hips. its in intoxicating mix, like a drug you can’t quit, no matter how much it fucks with your mind.

“you’re just everywhere, can never get away from you. everything about you drives me insane — makes me sick.” jihoon growls, his voice strained, as if hes trying to convince himself as much as you. but his words falter for a moment, and in the brief pause, you can feel the truth crack through. his thrusts dont slow, but the tension in his voice wavers, just enough for you to catch it. “i hate how much i… how much you— fuck.” he bites down on the words, cutting them off, as if saying them would shatter the illusion he’s do desperately trying to mantain.

you know he doesn’t truly hate you — deep down, you both know it. and you don’t hate him either. but for now, pretending is easier than confronting the feelings tangled up inside of you.

you gasp for air, your body trembling beneath him, the rage and the heat swirling together, threatening to consume you. you want to argue, want to push back against him, but everything inside you is telling you to let it happen, to let this twisted thing between you two finally unravel.

and god, you’re so close.

your walls tighten around him as you let out a shaky moan. “what’s the matter, jihoon?” you gasp out. “can’t even lie to yourself anymore?”

"shut up," he snarls, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, like he's fucking the words into you. "i'm too fucked up to leave you alone.” he slams into you again, his cock hitting deep, and you can't help but cry out, the pleasure mixing with the anger, overwhelming you.

your body responds involuntarily, the tension coiling tighter with each desperate thrust. the familiar heat pools low in your abdomen, spreading through your veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve.

"jihoon," you whine, his name escaping your lips in a broken moan, barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding. the need, the frustration, the hate — it all blurs into one overwhelming sensation, pushing you closer to the edge. your arms grow tired, and you fall forward onto the mattress, clawing at the bedheets.

his grip on your hips is bruising now, fingers pressing so hard you're sure you'll feel him long after this moment. his breathing is ragged, shallow, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

"fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his rhythm faltering as he teeters on the brink, barely holding on.

you can't hold back any longer. the pressure in your core builds to an unbearable peak, your body trembling as you're pushed over the edge. the wave of pleasure crashes into you, powerful and all-consuming, your muscles tightening around him as your orgasm shatters you, pulling a loud, breathless cry from your throat. your vision blurs, your mind blanking out everything but the pure, unrelenting ecstasy that ripples through you.

the way you clench around him is too much for jihoon. with a low, guttural groan, he slams into you one final time, his cock twitching deep inside as he finds his release, spilling into you with a shudder. his body tenses above you, the last of his control slipping away as he lets himself fall apart.

his breath is hot against your neck, panting heavily as he collapses against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. his arms remain locked around you, fingers still digging into your skin, as if letting go would mean losing whatever fragile connection this is.

the room falls into a tense silence, filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint thudding of your heartbeats. the anger, the frustration, the unspoken feelings — they all hang heavy in the air.

jihoon stays still for a moment, his body still pressed against yours, his breath warm on your skin. he finally speaks. “i still hate you.” he mutters, his voice low and strained, though the words lack the venom they carried before.

“yeah,” you reply, your tone laced with sarcasm. “we both know that’s a lie.”

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Until i found you." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

You always felt lost, adrift, until you found him. Oddly enough, Daryl always felt the same way, until he found you. From the moment you two met until your life together in Alexandria–quite a story.

A/N: Just a short imagine. Hope you like it!

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to fight, to survive, to protect. But in the past, Daryl was a reckless young man with nothing to lose, without big emotions, bottling everything up so as not to feel too much—Until he found his person, a purpose, a reason to want to see the sun rise one more day, until he found you. You were always a flight risk, scared to feel too much too, until one night, you flew away from that place called "home", landing in that seedy bar forgotten by God himself, the place where you met him.

Daryl was attractive, very attractive to a point where it must have been forbidden to look like that, with his broad shoulders, his long dark hair that made him look like a goddamn rock star, with his strong arms that his shirt showed off mercilessly. But young Daryl Dixon looked lost. Adrift. Without a sense of direction—just like you.

“I’m actually running away from daddy.” You answered his accusatory question, so calmly that it caused some astonishment in Daryl, although he didn’t show it. “Daddy was forcing me to marry the son of a mobster or something like that, a rich guy who would forgive daddy the debts he started to have after his gambling addiction started, so his little princess ran away from home taking with her his only chance to get out of that debt alive. However, I don't hate my daddy or have any kind of daddy issues, but I hope he gets what he deserves for trying to sell me like a fucking thing.” You smiled, mocking him, challenging him to say something witty after that revelation. “What do you think about that, Daryl? Pretty surprising, huh?”

“Shit… M'sorry. That sounds pretty fucked up.” He said breathlessly, looking at you with an almost sad expression. Then, Daryl fell into a heavy silence, but he could tell you were feisty, fighting to keep yourself alive, like a force of nature. “Well, if it helps, there’s a couch in ma apartment. S’old as fuck, but it does the job.”

The way you looked back at him was almost overwhelming, so deep as that color of your gaze, but you could say Daryl meant it. The color of his eyes, blue like a new kind of ocean, were beautiful and transparent, but dangerous with that warning that you could drown in them if you weren't careful.

But to his surprise, you agreed.

“Yeah. I really don’t have anywhere to go and you don’t look like a serial killer… well, maybe a little.” You chuckled, earning a scoff from him that made you laugh some more. “But I studied to be a vet, so if you try anything, I’ll just tell you that I know exactly where to cut you to make you bleed out. And I also have a hell of an aiming: I swear, if there is ever an apocalypse, this will save my life.”

Daryl blinked.

“Ya shittin’ me.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile.

“No, pretty boy, I’m not kidding.”

He scoffed, just to hide the slight nerves that being called that made him feel.

“Okay. Let’s go then.” Daryl stood up, taking a few bucks to pay for his drink and yours before you could do it yourself. “This is on me. Ya can pay the next one.”

Saying no more, he walked away first, leaving you alone and thinking what he meant by that. But when the girl in the bar gave you a silent look, like she was screaming at you while asking you if you were really going with him, you shrugged before grabbing your backpack and leaving the bar, too.

You two were like an unlikely duo, but maybe that's why you both looked good together. Even Merle, the asshole, said that when your one-day stay turned into a week, although to shut him up you told him the apartment needed some color so you didn't mind painting the walls red with his blood, with the gun you stole from your father. He loved you after that. And eventually, you got a job, helped pay the bills, and even cooked for everyone—forming a very strange family.

You and Daryl were quiet, always watching each other when the other wasn't looking, but it all felt like tiptoeing, on shaky ground, silently so as not to scare the bird. However, your “relationship” started with some drunken kisses, drinking Merle's alcohol to get the courage to take the first step. And you two continued like that for a while, without a title, moaning and grunting in each other's lips, in his room that was yours now.

Until one afternoon, a song popped in the radio.

Oh, I used to say, I will never fall in love again, until I found her. I said I would never fall, unless it’s you I fall into…

And like that click that two pieces made when they fit together perfectly, your feelings made more sense then, as if the panorama was clear, as if life had decided to unite all those words that didn't make any sense separately, but together, they explained everything, about you, about Daryl, about the fear of falling in love, until life, God, or whoever you believed in, left in front of you that someone you desperately needed, who, despite his own pain, showed you that people deserved to be loved completely or not at all.

There was no middle ground, because love didn't work halfway.

And you found a shelter in his arms, a real home with him: especially after a new world arose when the dead began to rise too.

Now, you are 6 months pregnant, with a bladder that is used as a soccer ball, and a baby (that was being cooked in your belly as Daryl used to say) who woke you up at odd hours demanding something to eat: so you have to listen.

When the moon takes its place at the top of the diamond sky and while the wind brings the last airs of the cold winter, the candle in the center of the dining room table keeps you company, and it's as if the silence mixes with the chorus of thoughts traveling at a thousand miles an hour inside you, along with the images your mind tries to make when you think about what the baby will be like when she or he is finally born. And it's terrifying to think about that again, but there's also a liberating emotion that allows you to stand firm on the ground, tall and strong despite your fears, with a fighting spirit that holds you up like gravity to the earth.

But between the shadows of the house that the candlelight tries to fight, you can see Daryl coming down the stairs, wearing those loose grey sleep pants even when he kept saying he looked stupid in them, shirtless, with those broad shoulders and the tattoo on his chest. It is a hot picture, kind of dirty because he is hot, older but too hot still, maybe that's why you let him get you pregnant.

However, when Daryl reaches the dining room as you finish the second brownie, you can see clearly his brow furrowed even though some of his long hair covers part of his forehead.

“Sup?” You joke, with a small nod.

“Sup? Really?” His voice is always low, deep, but in the middle of the night, it grows even deeper. “The fuck are ya doin’ here alone?”

“I’m eating, isn’t that obvious?” Using your head, you point towards the new brownie in your hand, trying to contain your laughter at his constant overprotectiveness. You loved that, but sometimes he treated you like you were suddenly made of porcelain. “And you?”

Daryl scoffs.

“Me? Jus’ woke up and saw that ma very pregnant wife ain’t where she should be.”

You chuckle.

“Daryl, I’m pregnant, but I still can use my legs to come down and eat in the middle of the night when the baby demands. If you have any complaints with she or he, please put them in writing, but I can tell you that there is a waiting list of approximately 3 months.”

He tries, he tries really hard no to laugh at the silly joke, but in the end, Daryl chuckles as he pulls the chair to seat on the corner of the table.

“I see ya’re feeling better, sweetheart, considerin’ how grumpy ya were this afternoon. But if ya get hungry when ya’re in bed, ya can jus’ tell me, y’know? I can bring ya up whatever ya need. And where ya got those damn brownies from?”

“Carol made them. Even when you told her to stop feeding me so much sugar.” You take a bite before answering, earning another scoff from him. “You look very domestic with those pants; you know?”

Daryl lets out a small growl of frustration.

“I look stupid, but this is more comfortable than sleepin’ with jeans.”

You nod, thoughtful.

“You can always sleep in boxers.”

Hearing your words, Daryl chuckles.

“Ya are pregnant and yet ya’re tryin’ to get into ma boxers.”

You chuckle, too.

“I was just making a comparison!”

“Oh, yeah?” The corner of his lip curves into a smile. “Then ya got to know I don't sleep in ma boxers anymore so ya don’t try to ravish ma body in the middle of the night. Yer poor husband jus’ wants to sleep while ya try to make him uncomfortable when ya pressed yer body against mine all night.”

Half surprise, you laugh.

“I get cold at night, you asshole! That's what I get for having to carry your baby.”

Daryl chuckles, placing his elbow in the table to hold his chin in his hand, closing his eyes as he tries to fight off sleep.

“Jus’ finish feedin’ the baby so we can go back to bed.”

You take another bite before talking again.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m stayin’.” He says, barely a second after you finish speaking.

You shrug even though he's not looking, eating another brownie that probably won't let you sleep, but the baby kicking your organs won't either, so. And for a moment, lost in your own thoughts, you miss the way Daryl opens his eyes after a while, taking in all of you.

You're wearing a loose white t-shirt, but somehow, that piece of clothing, which doesn’t show your figure at all, makes you look younger, like the person he met in the bar that night—your hair is tied in a half ponytail, the rest of it falling over your shoulders and back. But Daryl loves that until that day, you stand out in that world too, and it’s like seeing a brilliant sapphire among a pile of discolored rocks. And for a moment, an overwhelming nervousness takes over Daryl when you lock eyes with him.

“What?” You chuckle.

“Ya’re beautiful.”

He just says it like that, and you smile a little bit, trying to hide your shyness.

“Thank you, love.” You say softy. His voice is deep but is soft, honest, like the beginning of your story, and with your plate empty, you wipe any crumbs from your mouth before standing up. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed."

There, when you both reach your bed, you stroke his hair, his hand on your belly. Daryl stays in that position almost all night, eyes closed to focus only in the sensations, remembering the first night when he fell asleep with his head on your chest, with your hand caressing his scalp, a gentle massage with your soft fingers. And now, he can still feel that and the baby's movement.

Yeah, you were a flight risk, until you found him.

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 1400 words, desi-coded reader|

previous series masterlist

Sometimes you wonder if you are a character trapped in a story. Ant in a glacier, you shout and kick but are ultimately powerless, swept along by a narrative you are but a puppet to. It’s nothing new, you’ve felt this way every day for the past almost 30 years; days that keep passing by while you remain where you were.

Your author could have written you a story where you’re a princess and the dashing knight falls in love with you. Or perhaps where you’re a powerful elf magician who conquers the universe. Hell, even a side character in Mob Psycho 100 gets a nicer life than you. 

It only follows that your author is bored and talentless and cruel, because why else would they torment you like this? Why else would the love of your life come back to haunt you?

“... hey, honeycheeks?” Satoru opens an eye. For the past few days since he appeared he’s taken to sleeping (or quietly hovering horizontally) on his side of the bed next to you. “Why are you still up?”

Lately it feels like everything you do is done through you, rather than by you. You have to do something, feel something, assert your freedom of action. Make you feel like a person again. 

You scream for a full 20 seconds before Satoru, aghast, claps a hand (that passes right through you) to your mouth, worried that the neighbours will start banging on the wall, a stray ‘shut the fuck up!’ wafting in through the window. You haven’t slept well since he got here, except, you know, when you passed out. If your current mental state is anything to go, he needs to get you to bed before you lose it completely. 

“No– get off– I have to–are you real, Satoru? Are you? Am I?” 

Satoru’s never been able to hide his thoughts from you, so you can see clear on his face the fear and worry about you. A tinge of pity too. You’re behaving so erratically, so unlike the calm rational lady he remembers you as, one who took all of life’s curveballs in stride. Has he hurt you that much? What does it say about the kind of person Satoru is if his reappearance hurts you more than his disappearance? 

The ghostly form is warm, warm as the sun’s heat on a winter day, and he opens his arms to call you to its warmest core– his heart. You lie back down, pulled into the bedsheets and you shock yourself when you reflexively pull the blankets over both your heads. Like you used to. Like you haven’t forgotten.

Satoru glows too. Gentle light of fireflies and starlight. All humans do, you remember reading in your physics textbook: all heat-emitting bodies emit light energy as well. Satoru is all soul and no body to bar the glow– he lights up your little cave under the blankets. 

“I’m real, my love.” 

Why does it wrap thorns around your insides? Why do the tears burn down your neck, refusing to obey your composure? Why are you losing your grip on everything?

“I’ve always imagined that you’d come back.” Your whispers slip out before you can help it. “You’d stand on the doorstep with a huge bouquet of red roses and chocolate-covered-strawberries. I’ll open the door, and be so shocked! I’d say, “So you think you can just buy me flowers and I’d forgive you?” and you’d get on your knees and beg me to take you back, or at least let you inside the house. Our house. Then I’d say, “Fine, but you have to leave after tea!” And you don’t. You just never leave. Ha ha–” your suddenly realise what you’re saying, though not enough to regret it. “– I know, it’s cliche, don’t tease me… But I knew you, Satoru. I knew it’d never happen; I knew that you were done with me for good.”

And after a full year, Satoru Gojo’s blueflame eyes wet again with the unbearable weight of the past. 

“But if I knew that you’d come back like this–” you bury your head into Satoru’s unruly cloud of hair. His fingers grasp you tight into his embrace, shoulders heave with every sob that wrecks through his body. He can’t look you in the eye. How could he? He’s done so much wrong, so much that cannot be fixed, left so much unfinished. “–I’d have wanted you to stay away.”

“You gave me some of my best memories.” He weeps. Ghost tears fall that do not wet your bosom. “Some of my best days in life. I– I came back– I couldn’t–” 

He chokes and waits for the uncontrollable hiccups to die down, a tic of his whenever he cries too hard. The first time it happened was when you pushed him down a slide he was a bit scared of, and he kept hiccuping and heaving until his distraught nanny took him to his pediatric doctor. He was 2 then. He would’ve been 29 now. 

His voice steadies enough to talk, chest still shaking as he cries. He can’t help it. He’s given up trying to. “I don’t know much, but this much I can figure out. I’m done for, I’ve passed away. I’m sorry, my love, I tried not to, but I died. I’m sorry. It was a fight and I couldn’t win this time. Don’t worry, it’s over now, my students defeated the terrorist, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, love. Everything will go back to how it was–”

“–it won’t,” you cry. “Not without you.”

“There’s no point mourning the dead, I was loved enough in my life. I mean,” he finally has the courage to look at you, allowing a watery smile. There’s tears even in his teeth. “I got to be loved by you. What more can I ask? And that’s what I figured out, I think. Tell me, love, what do you see when you look at me? What am I wearing?”

“Huh? You look just like the day you left. 5 years ago.” 

“Am I jacked like Musclemon?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, silly, you look exactly like the day you left. Tall lean muscles, sure, but I won’t call you Musclemon. The chocolate bear hoodie you were wearing, grey sweatpants, the blindfold I gave you.” 

The last one was specially hand-made by you. You had to call in a favour from your blacksmithing friends to create a light-weight lead composite shield, which you then tailored foam and padding to create the most opaque blindfold possible. To help him sleep better at night.   

“That’s now how others see me.”

“Others can see you? Who's ‘others’?”

“No, no, not everyone. Just some people I couldn’t say goodbye to. Get closure properly, you know. As far as I can tell, it’s Suguru, Shoko, the children. They all saw me as how they remembered me.” He said. He’s always loved to explain, despite the fact that he’s crying right now. “I don’t know if this happens to everyone or just me, but at the time of death, your soul goes to wherever they find comfort. Mine was split into a few separate pieces, but those parts are done. I talked enough to everyone, bothered them till they told me to go, ha-ha… Suguru’s waiting for me to leave with him.”

“Suguru’s soul?”

“Yes.”

“Leave where? When?”

“I don’t mind, I’ll go wherever he takes me, I trust him. And I’ll go when you tell me to. When you’re done with me.” He whispers. Secrets beyond the grave that he entrusts with you. “But if you keep me with you, if you don’t tell me to leave, I never will. Not this time.”

You must be imagining it, but Satoru seems to get heavier, even though all he is is a ball of cloud. Almost like he was actually lying tangled with you. Must be your imagination. 

Clearly, neither of you are doing very well, or at least well enough to trust your senses. Come tomorrow morning, the barriers will come up again, the awkwardness of proper social conduct seeping through with the sunlight, childish words will go unsaid. 

“I loved you, Satoru. I love you.” It’s the truth, no point in hiding it. It’s destiny beyond himself that his soul came to you. “But more than that I miss you.”

Maybe if you prayed very, very hard, you could convince your author to write you a better story. 

a/n: reader also sees gojo with the engagement band on his finger she just can't get herself to say it out loud

gojo sees himself as nothing eslse but two glowing blue eyes

geto saw gojo as the 17 year old student he left him as. just to clarify, gojo's soul was "split" or in better words, different versions of his souls talked to his loved ones after his death and those versions have found peace and moved on. since geto is the only one dead in that line-up, in a way, he's waited for a year for him to die and join him. geto was prepared to wait as long as he needed to (he hoped that it would be long). reader's version is the only one that's left unresolved. do you think gojo wants to be resolved/freed?

[admirationandromantics]

Could you please write something about Chris or Josh with a virgin reader? How they'd react when they found out? How their first time would be like? Both of them strike me as virgins as well but idk🤷‍♀️

Yes, I also imagine both of them as virgins. Josh seems like he’s been all talk, no action. And Chris? Well, I feel that one is obvious. Anyways, I’ll do both in this post, and for the sake of the writing, the reader is the only virgin, not the guys. They’ve both had sex before. Just because it’s easier to work with. Anyway, enjoy <3 

Chris

He’s not surprised when you tell him, he did not think you were, but the reveal gives him a little comfort as well. Why, you ask? Because he doesn’t need to match himself up to someone else. He’s confident in his ways, and that he can make you feel good, but at the same time, this guy will never stop being insecure, and that small part of it relieved him a little. 

What he also does feel anxious about is the fact that he’ll be your first. And what do people say about their first time? Awkward, weird, nothing went as planned… He wants to make sure that your first time goes well, and that it was a good experience. “I promise, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy” “Yeah, yeah. But I’m gonna make you happy for another reason than that too” 

If you are the VERY romantic type, he’ll set everything up. A nice dinner, candles, music etc. He wants you to remember this, and trust me, remember you will. 

One of his goals is to drag out the foreplay as long as possible, wanting you to be drenched and needy for him. Better to go too slow than too quick. This makes the makeout session last way longer than necessary, and you’re starting to get impatient. “C-Chris, I need you now” “No, no, just a little bit longer” he whispers, hand in your hair, pulling you towards him. 

It’s firstly when you start unconsciously grinding on his thigh that he finally understands how down-bad you are, and he starts working on your clothing. He’s fast and gentle with his hands, easily unclasping and removing your bra. 

The cold air hitting your nipples while he admires you, hands groping and lips sucking. You can’t do anything but throw your head back, gripping his shoulders for support as he continues his assault. 

You guys move on, getting each other's clothes off, and him getting on top of you, fingers digging into your heat as you whimper. He continuously asks if you’re okay, if you’re in pain or uncomfortable. 

“You sure you want to keep going?” “Y-yes” “I can stop if-” “I swear, I’ll kill you if you stop now” “Oh? well then” a smile creeping on his lips as he drags out his fingers. 

He positions himself, using your juices as lube as he slowly moves up and down, getting ready. “Okay, we’re gonna take this slow, okay?” You nod, taking a deep breath as he fills you up, small moans leaving your mouth. He leans over you, meeting your lips in a sweet kiss, swallowing each of your sounds while pressing into you. 

“How’re you feeling?” “Fuck, just give me a couple of seconds” you whisper, adjusting and comprehending. He smiles, nodding and spending the time kissing your upper body, everything from your lips down to your breasts. 

After a while, you give him the signal, urging him to start moving. He obliges, always watching your reactions attentively to be sure you’re okay. 

As the night draws to a close, you spend the night in his arms, sleeping and cuddling. Of course, when you were done, he had a glass of water ready for you, packing you deep into the sheets and caressing your hair. 

Josh

Josh is not surprised that you’re a virgin. His suggestive comments here and there getting you so riled up that he only made the assumption. He does not feel that much pressure, only wanting your time with him to go well. 

He can be really romantic, each touch he makes both attentive and calculated. When you’re making out, he’s respectful until you ask him not to be, causing a rougher man to grope and bite you. He still doesn’t go the full way, wanting to be careful and make sure that some type of trust is established before going to second base. 

One day, you’re laying on his bed, a movie playing in the background when your attention turns to each other. This leads to a long make out session, clothes thrown across the room, but still not going further than your underwear. 

You’re hot and bothered, wanting him to take you right now. You smile as you feel him growing hard beneath you, reciprocating that craving. Thighs around his torso, ass on his pelvis, you lean down, leaving kisses on his neck and asking. “Josh, I want you” “Right now? Are you sure?” “Yes” 

He spins you around, making you gasp from your back hitting the mattress. His hands wander over your chest, going behind and unclasping your bra. You sit up a bit, helping him take it off, throwing the garment on the floor. 

“And you want to do this?” “Yes, I do” “Right now” “Are you not up for it?” “Holy fuck, I’m holding back with every fiber of my being” “Stop holding back” 

He watches you while pushing himself into you, making sure that you’re not getting hurt, and can stop at any time. He captures your lips in his, both of your moans filling the room every time you stop for air. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight” You can only whimper in reply, feeling him fill you up, struggling to control himself as he wants to ravage you. He gives you time to adjust, letting you signal to him when he can start moving. 

When you’re done, he holds you, praising you and asking how it was. He’s attentive and sweet, asking if you would like a bath or a shower.

[hypertechnica]

i’m not saying that what Odo did in s6 while the dominion occupied the station WASNT fucked up beyond imagination, but am i the only one who thinks it completely makes sense why it happened (and why Kira forgave him?)

to be clear, i absolutely think the show forgave him too fast - it should have been a full arc on screen, not in a single off screen discussion in a closet. that was a massive writing failure. but! i don’t think that the arc is usalvageable at all.

(CW for discussions of grooming)

from what i knew of the dominion collaborator arc before i watched it, i assumed Odo had taken an active role in betraying the federation basically because he was lonely and horny and prioritized his own feelings over his values. i didn’t see that at all.

Odo’s betrayal lied within his inaction - his refusal to help kira and the resistance when she needed him most, ruining their plans and in the end costing thousands of lives. Kira (and everyone else) had every right to never speak to him again - so why did she?

Odo, to me, seemed completely dissociated the entire time his betrayal took place. where just before he had been talking of wanting to rip out his strong feelings for Kira, he then takes on an eerie apathy towards everything, stating things “used to” matter and that he felt nothing. he doesn’t even know how much time is passing. the crux of this, of course, is the link - Odo stresses that it’s an experience that can’t be compared to anything solids can do. Kira just “doesn’t understand.” that she can’t understand. what is so life changing about linking that makes him do a full 180 on everything he’s ever stood for? it’s basically just goo sex, right? right?

the Voice of the Link (the female changeling but i refuse to call her that because it’s a stupid fucking name) is manipulating him with his desire to link and to experience his culture. but linking is more than a metaphor for sex, it’s quite literally the emotional fusion between beings. the show compares it to sex, yes, but the emotional intimacy of the act transcends humanoid notions of sexuality in a way Odo had never experienced at this level before. the Voice already had power over him. she’d been building his trust and teasing him with hints at their culture for seasons at this point, it wasn’t a huge step to fully let her enter his mind. the Voice wanted Odo to join the Great Link - but she also wanted that minefield to be destroyed. Odo says she didn’t find out about their plans, but was he correct? what are the Voice’s true motives? she says she doesn’t care about the details of the war, that she just wants to be with Odo for companionship - i don’t buy it. she has to know about the resistance. she’s too smart to not have figured it out. it’s two birds with one stone - fully sway Odo to the side of the dominion, and ensure that the minefield is destroyed.

they’d linked before, but never in totality or for that length. she knew he’d be vulnerable to it. that he would lose himself to the overwhelming emotional intensity and melding of their minds. Odo was an extremely young changeling with little to no experience linking, and was thrust into an out of body extremely emotional and sexual experience literally transcending the boundaries of self with a thousand+ year old founder who knows exactly what buttons to press. of course he would lose his sense of self and detach from reality! she’s literally both attacking and assuaging every vulnerability Odo has in an extremely precise manner!

Odo wanted nothing more than to be able to link with another changeling but the power imbalance was too great. he was putty in her hands. it was really uncomfortable to watch and i dare say it was an act of predation rather than “Odo was horny and folded immediately” or “Odo was lonely and prioritized that over his friends.” yes, he was both of those things, but in the context of his relationship with the Voice… good lord. i wouldn’t even be surprised if Odo genuinely didn’t know the extent of the damage he caused until after things were over - he was completely and utterly gone.

it makes no sense for Odo to suddenly abandon his entire moral and value system just because The Link Is Cool and Awesome and i’m Learning About my Culture and then change his mind once more once shit starts hitting the fan. he’s not that gullible. he can’t rip out his feelings! but he can be coaxed into a state of derealized semi consciousness by continuous linking and isolation from others.

by linking with the Voice he lost track of where he ended and she began. his ego had been destroyed. he was nothing, and nothing mattered but the link. the totality of it. his loneliness was amplified by a thousand degrees every time they separated, she knew how to make him feel just right, she knew how to make him lose his independence completely.

but the spark within him, his love that he’d tried to get rid of, the kind that didn’t require becoming nothing but a drop in an ocean, saved him from her. Kira helped him remember himself and what he believed in right before it was too late.

Odo is far from a defendable character in many cases. he’s a very very flawed person. but i would argue this isn’t his worst moment. his extremely authoritarian tendencies and the amoral decisions he’s made while in complete sound mind are honestly more culpable to me than what happened to him in s6. the scale of the disastrous consequences resulting from his betrayal make it way worse obviously, but he was literally getting groomed and NOT in his right mind. he seemed almost drugged to me at points.

so he SHOULD have gotten another arc afterwards explaining all of that in detail instead of “well, he talked it out offscreen with Kira. he’s forgiven now!” BRO HE INDIRECTLY KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE dissociated or not he SHOULD face consequences for that!! make him grapple with it!! make him realize the extent of what happened not only the consequences but the the way he was taken advantage of! its literally existentially terrifying in every way! and of COURSE in that context Kira would forgive him. trust would have to be rebuilt, of course, but it’s one thing to actively put the entire alpha quadrant at risk for some strange, it’s another thing to have your vulnerability taken advantage of and be put into a dissociative state.

tldr: the Voice is a great villain and Odo has never done anything wrong ever in his life

[velvet-n-lace]

NSFW Alphabet (Leviathan Edition)

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 1.9k words

Pairing(s): Leviathan x Female MC

A/N: Levi has two-dicks in this one; you're welcome :)))))

Original Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Levi gets flustered when he has to ease the pain or clean you up after you collapse from your orgasm. He would do so awkwardly with tissues and repeat reassuring phrases, all while his nose bleeds from all the blushing.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Levi sometimes has trouble finding something worth admiring about his body, but over time, he’s come to appreciate himself and everything you love about him. He likes his oddly slim and fit body, considering he spends most of his days in his room. Levi loves your whole body, especially the parts that arouse him, like your ass, thighs, and breasts. You can catch him staring at them with a blushing face so often.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Buckets. Buckets of the saltiest cum you will ever taste, it’s like seawater. Levi can cum twice as much thanks to his tentacle-like cocks, lookin’ like they came straight out of a hentai manga. It is another body part he is proud of, but he’s a little embarrassed. He loves it when you make both of them cum anywhere on your body; it’s his own way of marking you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Levi is a certified little freak, so before he got intimate with you, he would find ways to keep your scent with him at all times. He did so by stealing your panties and sniffing them as much as possible. Levi couldn’t resist always having a piece of you with him. When he came on them, they would always end up clean after a laundry wash and back in your drawers as if nothing happened. This is only one of the freaky things he’s into…

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

No experience whatsoever. Levi only knew how sex worked through the hentai he’s watched and the ergoes he’s played late in unholy hours. Because of this, what he’s into and wants out of you is almost straight out of an idealized and fictional version of sex. But of course, he’s a demon with two tentacle cocks and a scaly tail, so it’s not idealized or fictional anymore ;)

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Whichever position gets him the most overstimulated, so the best way to do that is to have both his cocks inside you. It’s a difficult task for you, but it’ll feel like cloud 9 when he’s two cocks deep inside both holes. He can hold you down by his tail while he fucks you from the back. Any position where you take control is also a huge turn-on for him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He does his best to be serious and almost brooding when making love to you, but ultimately, he becomes a blushing mess and constantly breaks character. He can get stubborn and would take charge to keep himself calm. You can always reassure him, and eventually, he forgets his worries.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

So, Levi had some trouble grooming himself before he met you, but he’s put in the effort ever since. Now, he at least tries to smell nice and look cleaner when you’re around. His carpet and drapes are the exact shade of purple, and he will occasionally shave if he wants to.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Very intimate, he would repeat a slew of “I love you” and “You love me too, right?” Even if pleasure is what he wants, love is always attached to whatever he does.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Levi often has to use two pocket pussys to jack off, or he humps his pillow or blanket. If he has your panties by his side, he would sniff them as he jacks off. His cocks have minds of their own, pulsing with life and filled with salty cum. They writhe and twist to make Leviathan's orgasm stronger. He also tends to watch some hentai as he jacks off, or he just thinks back to something you did today that turned him on; the thought of you is good enough. His load is huge; he would need a box of tissues or a warm bath to wash it all off.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

There is a lot, and maybe that’s cuz he watched too much hentai, and there may even be some “messed up” things he’s into, but he’s too nervous to admit it. For now, he’s into roleplay, cosplay, shower sex, double penetration, and definitely some degradation. If he wants to be the one in control, he will use his tail on you as his cocks pump you with his demon seed, just like in his games~

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He prefers your room because you will only have eyes on him. He can do his room, but it makes him a bit self-conscious when all his figures and posters stare down at him. He also does it in the bathroom when both of you have shower sex or when he rubs one more before washing off all the jizz on his body~

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything you do can give him new ideas to fuck you or to be fucked by you. Sometimes, his envy could make him do things like suggesting a new position or a new kink. The more you tease him, the more he wants to be in bed with you. The fear of losing you to one of his brothers haunts him, so he would do anything to have you all to himself.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Levi is willing to try many things, but if you're not down for them, he won't bring it up and would apologize for suggesting it. In return, he would never allow sharing you with anyone else; sharing you will NEVER be on the table. Any position requiring too much stamina would also be a bit much.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a novice in giving oral, but he’s been improving. His slimy tongue can help reach the most pleasurable spots like it’s a third dick. He takes his time and constantly needs orders if you want him to go fast or slower. He LOVES receiving it, though. If you could take one cock in your mouth and just jack the other one off, it’s good, but taking both at the same time is the best feeling ever. If you could deepthroat, he would be writhing in moans until his load fills your mouth and covers your chest. If you can give it to him while he is gaming, he will go crazy~

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Levi is gentle at first. Two cocks are a lot to take in, so he’s careful when it comes to inserting them and thrusting in and out of you. Levi can go as fast as possible when you get used to them. He is at his roughest when that jealousy takes over like he’ll be leaving bruises inside your pussy.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He absolutely hates them but needs them cuz it’s more of a hassle to deal with two cocks getting erect in the middle of class. Levi would have to drag you into the bathroom stall and relieve himself.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He’s down to try freaky stuff with you but wants to keep it all between you and him. If anyone found out about what he’s into, it would be a HUGE reputation drop; at least, that’s how he sees it. Even the tiny kisses you give him in public make him a bit nervous, but he does his best not to be overcome by that desire.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Levi is the type of guy who gives it his all in the first few rounds. Either he goes for a few when you are the one domming him, or he goes for one or two when he tries taking control. He tries putting his effort into thrusting the most, and he lets his tail hold you in place as he pounds you like a fuck doll.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Levi owns two fleshlights, a dildo, and a hitachi wand, and he often uses either one of them every night. He loves using them on you, especially the dildo, for a risky triple penetration session or the wand to overstimulate your clit. Or maybe he’s fucking himself with them while he fucks you; the more stimulation, the more wild he will get~

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Levi’s definition of teasing you is texting you screencaps of hentai manga and sex toys he found online with captions like “can we try this?” or “can you do this to me?” He also sends you pictures of him in lewd cosplay with just as lewd poses. It was like, over time, he learned how to tease you. Of course, that gives you a reason to tease him back!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Levi gets loud the more pleasure he gets. He makes all kinds of strange sounds like he’s imitating some hentai character, but no, he just naturally moans and whimpers like one. It’s both unsettling and mesmerizing to listen to, knowing you are the one making him moan like that. He constantly needs to cover his mouth and hold his chest when those sparks of pleasure hit him in the right spots.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

The roleplay and the cosplay kink come hand in hand. Levi loves it when you cosplay as a sexy maid or any of his favorite characters. Fucking his waifu irl has always been his ultimate dream, and knowing that you are the one under that cosplay makes him fall in love with you over and over again. The roleplay can stick for a while, but then both of you would just drop it the moment he moans your name instead of the character you’re cosplaying as~ He can cosplay your husbandos too :3

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Okay, so we already talked about his two tentacle cocks with minds of their own. They are a dark shade of black and blue like his demon form, they cum huge loads, and it’s one of his favorite body parts on him. Even so, they are not huge, they are average-sized, which is something he apologizes for at times, but good lord, two tentacle cocks are enough for your human body to handle.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's super high, especially when you drive him up the wall with your cuteness and sexiness. He’s been learning how to keep his desires steady, plus his super high moments were mostly back when he thought there was no chance with you, but it still doesn’t stop him from having such a high drive for you.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

With his lack of stamina, he can fall asleep quickly. As long as you are by his side when he sleeps, he will feel comforted and content with his performance in bed. Seeing your face before your eyes close is like something out of a dream.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

been going through a lot and didn’t open tumblr for a fat minute so your blog was a little neglected, sorry for the mass spam of reblogs and likes. i hope your new puppy is doing good and your chronic pain isn’t too much of a bother with the cold, ik mine is smh. and if you’d like to treat this as one, here’s a freebie :)

Don't worry, it's always delightful to open my phone in the morning and see people are finding stuff they like over here!

The Menace is good. He found the intersection between fuck around and find out yesterday trying to take Porkchop's bone yesterday. Like a good big sister, she didn't bite him or snap. But she did get BIG LOUD and scare the shit out of him... Her sisterly tolerance does not extend to her bones... He can take her kibble, treats, and water no biggie but bones are where she draws the line.

Bruce looked up from the pile of papers in front of him and rubbed his eyes. It was a long day. Snarls on snarls. And it wasn't helping that he missed you.

When you were around, it felt like everything went smoother. You could get people to just do things. A big smile and those eyes and people would just melt and do what you wanted. People could write HIM off as a stupid party boy, but you?

There was no one that you couldn't handle. It was a hard-learned talent. And you were on the other side of the country... Inconsiderate, really.

"Hey, B!" Dick chirped, throwing his bag into a chair.

"Hey, Chum," he said straightening and putting on a smile, "Good day?"

Dick shrugged carelessly and shoved dark hair out of his eyes, "Boring, mostly."

"School can be like that," he said. "Wanna go down to the Cave?"

He nodded brightening and grinned, "Bet I can beat you this time!"

"We'll see," he said getting to his feet and lunging like he was about to run, sending Dick flying out of his chair and towards the stairs, giggling and taunting the whole way.

_____________________________

The woman he saw at a distance made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

She watched him, warily but didn't speak. Or move towards him. Her long dark coat in the wind and her hair twisting into dark loops. If it weren't for the glint of her eyes behind the mask, he'd think she was a ghost.

"Ma'am," he tried, "Are you-"

But before the sentence can leave his mouth, she's gone. Flipped over a railing and into the dark abyss below. He raced forward, alarmed- only to find nothing.

Nothing but a pink envelope on the ledge. He reached for it, taking it in trembling hands. Only to find a cream-colored card inside with two words, You're it.

It?

What did it mean? Pink Envelopes and cream cards dropped all over the city. Addressed to him. Some of them as Batman and some of them as Bruce Wayne. Sometimes empty and sometimes with those same cream cards- taunting him.

Had he caught you in the act or had you wanted to be seen?

Who were you? What were you? and more importantly- what were you doing? It was driving him crazy. There was no pattern. There was no- anything. No DNA, no prints, no pattern.

And somehow, even worse- No crimes. Afterall, it wasn't illegal to leave someone a note where they might find it.

[iminyourwallsbabe]

Thinking about Viktor's life story, it's really crazy.

Like I was listening to St. Chroma the other day and that song is about making a life out of nothing starting at the very bottom and making out of there yourself. But what I like about it and why I don't think it's corny like a lot of other songs like that, is that it's so fucking stubborn. Yk? It's like FUCK YOU, I can do this and I dare you to try and hold me back cuz it's not fucking happening.

You know who that sounds a lot like?

Like let's just think about this. He's a boy from the undercity, his parents are probably dead, he has a disability he probably had to deal with and make accommodations for by himself. Given what happens to most people from Zaun and how they live, the odds say he was cooked from the start. He could've been dead or in jail by then. The second someone instilled the idea in him that he could be more than that though, he took it and ran with it. He was like, alright, if I have it in me to go after anything, I'm gonna be a scientist.

So from that point on, he put in the work. Probably twice as much work as someone from Piltover would have to do if Jayce's recreation of his life was any indication. He was probably doing all of this hungry, in pain, and with a million other ailments. I think for him though, instead of doubting whether or not he could he wondered how long it would take. Would be doing this for decades? How much of his life would he spend trying to make it there? Would he live to see it all amount to something? That's why when Jayce presents his ideas and he gets ahold of his notes, Viktor immediately gets in on this. It could be a world altering discovery, it could be bullshit, he doesn't have the time to pass up the opportunity. If he wants to be anything more than an assistant, he has to be bold. He has to have the audacity.

That's really what it is at the end of the day, that's what got him where he wanted to be. The fucking audacity. I mean think about it, this guy from the undercity that people probably don't trust already is about to go behind the council's back to do some potentially life threatening experiments with the guy who blew up a building and almost killed several children. Who does he think he is?

This is why he tells Jayce "When you want to change the world, don't ask for permission", because the truth of the matter is, and this applies to real life as well, the people sitting in the chairs in the council are not going to let you manifest any dreams that don't fit their world view. You can keep fighting them about it until your face turns blue, but more than likely, they're not budging. If you're really about it, you just have to do it.

This mentality bleeds into everything he ever does. There's so many times in just the first few episodes where he's asked "are you sure about this?" and he straight up just says "lol no this could probably kill us but fuck it, we ball". He doesn't wait for anybody, not society, not safety, nothing. He's the definition of a man of progress, it's his entire life. But it's not just the world he wants to make better, it's a personal thing as well.

Every step of the way, he wants to become something greater. He started out as a regular undercity boy, then he became a student, then he worked his way up to becoming the assistant to the dean of the academy, who it may serve you to remember is the head of the council. Then, he became a real scientist, just like he wanted. That wasn't enough though, it wasn't enough to just *do* science, he had to do something with it. Keep pushing it until it could do the most good it could do. Then, he got sick. Or his sickness caught up to him at least. His time was limited. It only made him more focused on progress. How much can I do with what little time I have left? Can I extend that time? Can this magic or this shimmer make me the healthiest version of myself that there can be?

That's why it was so devastating for him to lose Sky. She was the first person to directly be harmed by the thing he created, at least the first person he saw. She lost her life in his pursuit for greatness. Say what you want about how obsessed he is with the idea of evolution and growth, but you can't say he was ready to give up the people he wanted to save in order for it to happen. At least, not yet. That's when he thought it was the end of the road, that he'd gone too far. He had to stop here. His solution to that was gonna be doing a backflip off a building, but you get the idea.

That's really why the second season isn't super surprising in retrospect. I mean we can blame the hexcore for some of it, I think it took some of his humanity but a lot of those ideas were his own. And I think he meant what he said when he said his path and Jayce's path diverged when he was brought back to life. He was supposed to die, the hexcore was supposed to be gone, this pursuit was supposed to be over. He felt like Jayce just didn't know when to stop and it was interfering with the well being of humanity. And I think he took that and his own failures to heart, prompting him to find a way to try and take that out of the equation.

Anyway r.i.p Viktor you would've loved Chromakopia

[erimeows]

Dinner With Havoc

It’s another late night. Riza Hawkeye is sitting on Roy Mustang’s living room couch, translating a coded letter onto a piece of paper that she knows will be burnt later on with a ballpoint pen. The lamp sat on the end table beside her bathes the living room in a warm, amber glow, casting long shadows over the stacks of documents cluttering the glass coffee table in front of her.

“I just ordered takeout from Panda House,” Roy calls out, his voice carrying from the kitchen. His head pops through the doorway so he can look at her, a small smile on his face. Riza opens her mouth to ask if he’d remembered her order. Before she can so much as speak, Roy continues. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, I know your order. They said it’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

Riza lets out a quiet sigh, her pen pausing mid-stroke. 

‘He knows my order. Of course he does.’ 

Every so often, Roy asks her to join him at his house to catch up on paperwork, decode urgent letters, or plan for missions. Part of her wants to believe it’s an excuse for them to spend time together, but he’s never said or done anything to suggest that. Riza knows better than to assume- especially with Roy.

“Right,” She responds, and then clears her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

Roy pops back into the kitchen to finish making them a pot of coffee to share. 

Riza stays on the middle of the living room couch. In front of her is Roy’s glass coffee table, lined with stacks of papers. Most of them are letters from Maes, that of which are in code. Riza’s here to help Roy decode them faster- just in case they have some sort of urgent information. 

Roy reappears in the living room with a mug of coffee in each hand. His is in the red cup, loaded with milk and sugar. Hers is in the blue cup, straight black, just how she likes it. He gently pushes the mug into her hands and sits down next to her. There’s one cushion in the middle, the only thing keeping them separate. Riza wonders if he wants to close the distance between them as much as she does- if he wishes the couch were just a little smaller to allow for a brush of their shoulders or a bump of their knees.

Riza doesn’t know how long she’s been in love with Roy. Maybe it’s always been that way. Her feelings for him are like a fact of life. When they were young, she was drowning in keeping up with her father’s care- when they were older, they were in a war- and now- well, now they’re too fucked up for Riza to know how to handle the overgrown mess that is their relationship. Maybe he returns her feelings, that much is possible, but even if he does, he’s too damn stubborn to say anything. 

This is exhausting. The warm glow of the lamp Roy has turned on highlights his stupidly sharp, beautiful cheekbones and the different shades of black and brown in his raven hair. He’s wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The top buttons are undone and his collar is crooked.

It feels… Intimate. Far more intimate than what’s appropriate between a colonel and his lieutenant. They’re here, alone in Roy’s house, about to eat takeout together, both of them out of uniform and sitting on his couch in arguably romantic lighting. 

“I appreciate your help,” Roy speaks between sips of his coffee. “Really.”

“It’s my job, sir,” Riza cooly answers as she takes a drink of her own coffee. She sets the cup down on the corner of the table and continues translating Maes’ coded letters. “It’s no problem.”

“Still. Coming to my house to do extra work isn’t part of your job description and… Well, I appreciate everything you do. I just want you to know that. Honestly, if I were you, I’d be tired by now.”

Riza struggles to continue, her pen hovering over the page. Her chest tightens as she processes his words. He always manages to say just enough to make her hope for more but never enough to make her believe it’ll actually happen. 

“I’m used to it,” She finally says. “There’s always work to be done.”

When the takeout arrives, they eat together in silence. Riza swears that she feels Roy staring at her, but when she looks at him to meet his gaze, he’s staring down at his food. 

It must just be her imagination. It always is.

By the time they finish the last of Maes’ letters, it’s nearing midnight. Roy leans back on the couch, letting out a sigh as he surveys the completed stack of translated letters. 

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says, his voice laced with gratitude.

“It’s part of my job,” Riza repeats the words, thinking that if she says them enough, the truth will cease to bother her. 

As she gathers her things and prepares to leave, Roy follows her to the door. 

“Drive safely, lieutenant.”

“Of course, sir,” She replies before stepping out into the cool night’s air.

As Riza walks to her car, she feels the weight of the evening- and every other evening like it- settle over her. She’s tired, so incredibly tired of wanting, and loving, and waiting for something that might never come. She doesn’t blame him, not really. They’ve both seen too much, done too much, to believe they deserve each other, even if he does return her feelings. Still, the ache is there, deep and unrelenting.

When she slides into the driver’s seat, she grips the steering wheel tightly, staring out at the darkened street. 

‘This can’t go on forever,’ She tells herself. 

Tomorrow, she decides, will be different. It has to be.

~

Jean Havoc has come to the conclusion that his job is becoming exhausting. Not because of the job itself, but because of the ongoing spectacle of Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye pining after each other.

At first, it was endearing. Now, it’s just painful. Watching two people who are so obviously in love refuse to admit it is like enduring a slow, never-ending soap opera.

“They’re exhausting, aren’t they?” Havoc murmurs, his gaze fixed on Roy and Riza through the glass window of the colonel’s office.

Riza stands at Roy’s desk, her expression stoic, while Roy- clearly smitten- stares at her with a dopey smile.

Breda, Fuery, and Falman stand beside Havoc, all watching the scene unfold. Their lunch break has just ended, and while Havoc was about to return to the office to work, he is now too distracted by the mushy scene in front of him to do so.

Interrupting feels wrong, anyway. What’s going on in there is… Intimate. Really, they shouldn’t even be seeing it. 

“Yeah, it’s painful to watch,” Breda answers while placing a hand on his hip. 

“Maybe they’re dating and keeping it a secret,” Falman weighs in, and though Havoc would like to think that’s true, he knows that it’s not. “It’s none of our business.”

Havoc has had enough crushes to know when other people are experiencing it. What Hawkeye and Mustang have is not an actual relationship, it’s blatantly obvious mutual pining with a dash of unresolved romantic tension. 

“They’re not,” Havoc takes a cigarette out of the pack in his front pocket, puts it between his lips, and lights it. “Trust me, I can tell.”

“How do you know for sure?” Fuery asks. 

“It’s the way he looks at her,” He explains. “Like she’s something he can’t have. And when he’s not paying attention to her, she looks at him the same way.”

“God, you’re cheesy,” Breda cringes. “So what, who cares? The colonel and his lieutenant have a crush on each other, it’s a tale as old as time. Fraternization laws are probably all that’s keeping them apart. They’re too smart to go for it.”

“I don’t know… They do a lot for us, wouldn’t it be nice to see them- well- happy together?” Fuery interjects. “Even if it’s not technically allowed…”

“Exactly. Just because none of us are in successful relationships doesn’t mean that they can’t be,” Havoc answers. “It’s not like they’re not accustomed to keeping secrets from the government by now.”

“Well, sure, but what they do in private really isn’t our business,” Falman sighs and crosses his arms as if he’s in deep thought. “There’s not much we can do to help them if they won’t communicate, is there?”

At that, Havoc smirks.

“Maybe there is something we can do. Colonel Mustang does seem like the jealous type, doesn’t he?”

~

The next day practically flies by for Riza. Normally, she might be irritated by the mountain of paperwork she showed up to, but today, she’s grateful for it. The constant keeps her hands and mind too occupied to linger on the night she spent with Roy Mustang and the emotions that resurfaced from it.

After her team’s lunch break, she slips into the staff lounge to refill her water bottle. To her relief, the room is empty. Solitude is rare here, and she’s grateful for the fact that she won’t have to force small talk with someone she doesn’t particularly care for. 

Riza moves to the cooler and fills her bottle, the soft trickle of water and the clicking from the analogue clock on the wall the only sounds in the room. But as she’s screwing the lid back on, the door creaks open behind her. She tenses, bracing herself to make polite conversation. Turning, she sees Jean Havoc step inside, his familiar grin already in place.

A sigh of relief falls from between her lips at the sight of him despite the nasty scent that comes from the cigarette held in his mouth.

“Havoc,” She greets with a faint nod, turning back to the cooler.

“Hey, Hawkeye,” He says as he makes a beeline for the cabinet near the water cooler. 

He retrieves a box of donuts Fuery had brought in earlier that morning, placing three of the frosted desserts onto a paper plate. 

Riza starts to head for the door, eager to return to her desk before anyone else comes in. Havoc’s voice stops her midstep.

“Hawkeye, wait,” There’s a note of urgency in his tone that makes her pause. She turns, raising an eyebrow at him. He continues. “We should go out on a date tonight. Just the two of us.”

Riza blinks. Of all the things she expected him to say, this wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. Though Havoc has had a perpetual string of failed dates, Riza was under the impression that he was interested in her best friend, Rebecca Catalina.

“Excuse me?” She asks, unsure if she heard him right.

Maybe staying up with the colonel to work is having some negative effects on her brain… She really should be sleeping more.

“As friends,” He quickly clarifies, much to Riza’s relief. “I know about the fraternization laws and all that. I just figured, well, you work so hard, and it doesn’t seem like you get a chance to go out much.”

Riza isn’t sure whether to be flattered by his thoughtfulness or annoyed that he’s apparently taken notice of her lack of a social life. Part of her suspects that he’s up to something if the way he won’t look her in the eye is anything to go by, but… What could he possibly be up to that involves a friendly date?

“Oh,” Riza says. 

It’s not the first time someone at work has asked her out, but those invitations always seemed romantic, and she always turned them down. This, however, feels different. Not bad, per say, just different.

“We could both dress up,” Havoc suggests with an enthusiastic grin. He takes his cigarette out of his mouth with his spare hand and burns it out in a nearby ashtray. “Go to that steakhouse on Main Street. You know, the fancy one with the valet? We’ll order some expensive wine, maybe even dessert if we’re feeling frisky. It’ll be great!”

For a moment, Riza allows herself to imagine it; the cool glow of the restaurant, the valet parking her car for her, drinking something that isn’t plain water or coffee, and the rare luxury of an evening that isn’t tied to training or obligation or Roy. She’s driven past that restaurant countless times on her way home from Roy’s house, always wondering what it would be like to step inside but knowing that no one would ever be able to take her because of her duty to watch Roy’s back.

Alas, the reality of her life quickly sets in. Dinners like that aren’t cheap, and she lives frugally on the off chance that her and Roy’s plan to make him fuhrer goes wrong and they have to escape the country on short notice. 

“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I can’t justify spending that kind of money so last minute on-”

“It’s my treat,” Havoc interjects before Riza can even finish the thought.

Riza hesitates. There’s something disarming about Havoc, something that makes it difficult to say no to him, just like the rest of Team Mustang. 

“Very well, then,” She finally agrees, a small smile tugging at her lips. “What time should we meet at the restaurant?”

“How about six?” Havoc suggests.

“Six it is,” Riza agrees and turns to the door once again. “Now, let’s get back to work. The last thing I want is to cancel our date because I’m picking up your unfinished assignments.”

Havoc chuckles, trailing behind her as they leave the lounge. 

“I’ll make sure my desk is spotless, lieutenant. Wouldn’t want to ruin our big night.”

As they part ways, Riza can’t help but smile to herself. She doesn’t know if tonight will be as ‘great’ as Havoc insists, but at this rate, anything is better than spending another night the way she usually does.

~

Later that day, Riza is left behind in the office with Roy. It’s quiet and dull, with Roy sitting at his desk pretending to do paperwork, and Riza actually doing work. He seems distracted. She’s not sure why and knows better than to ask.

The others, as per usual, filtered out a few minutes ago.

“Lieutenant, I need you to carpool home with me,” Roy says, breaking the silence. “I’ve got a mission report from the Elrics that I need help deciphering. They’ve gone and turned another town on its head. If what Fullmetal has written is to be believed, I’ll need your help cleaning up after him… Again.”

Riza pauses, her hands gripping the report held within them a little tighter. He always assumes she’s free, as if her life exists only to orbit his whims. As annoying as it is, she can’t deny there’s some truth to it- most nights, anyway. When she agreed to watch his back, she agreed to devote her life to helping him always. Yet, she can’t help but feel… Frustrated. Greedy. She wants more than he’s willing to give and she’s tired of it. It’s more her fault than his, for getting her hopes up, but she’s getting tired of spending all of her time and energy chasing after him.

Tonight is going to be different. Tonight, she’s going to do something different; go out, eat a wonderful dinner, spend time with her comrade, and leave Roy and any thoughts of him behind in this dusty office. 

“Unless that’s a direct order, I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you, sir.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before guilt tugs at her chest. She’s not used to telling him no. She only has a few friends- Team Mustang and Rebecca Catalina. She doesn’t date because of her marred back. She doesn’t have any hobbies that don’t revolve around work or Black Hayate. Most of the time, it doesn’t feel like she deserves to do anything for herself, so she easily goes along with Roy’s requests to see her after hours to work on God knows what. 

Roy looks up from his desk. 

“Really? You can’t?” He leans back in his chair, studying Riza as if her refusal is some kind of puzzle he can’t solve. “Why not?”

Riza straightens the crooked books on the nearby shelf to make herself seem busy. Her mind races. A part of her wants to lie, to avoid the truth entirely. But then again, what’s the harm in what she’s doing? Roy doesn’t meddle in her personal life- at least not publicly- and a small, spiteful corner of Riza’s mind wonders if maybe, just maybe, the truth will make him get the wrong idea… If it’ll make him jealous. Even just a little.

“Havoc and I have dinner plans at six,” She explains while moving on to pick up a miniscule piece of trash- anything to keep from having to look Roy in the eye while she does this. “Maybe this could wait until tomorrow?”

For a moment, there’s silence- thick, loaded silence. When Riza finally dares to look at Roy from her peripheral, his eyebrow is raised.

“You’re going out to dinner,” He repeats, as if the concept is completely foreign to him. “With Havoc.”

“Yes, sir,” Riza answers.

Roy leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His voice shifts- quieter, now, and full of a baffled sort of disbelief that offends Riza on Havoc’s behalf. “Alone?”

The question hangs in the air between them. Awkward. Silent. Almost as if he doesn’t believe it at all- as if it’s some sort of fucked up joke she’s playing- as if he expects her to say ‘gotcha’ and for them both to laugh. Of course, the gotcha moment never comes. “Yes. Alone.”

“As in, no one else will be there? No Fuery, no Breda, no Falman? Not even Catalina? I thought he was into her.”

“Precisely, sir.”

Roy tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing just enough to suggest he’s trying to decide whether or not he believes her- because, apparently, her going to dinner with Havoc is just that ridiculous of an idea to him. 

“Alright, then,” He says after a moment, though his voice doesn’t portray any of the nonchalance he’s clearly aiming for. “Tomorrow, then. We can go over the report first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That works for me,” Riza says, but she can feel the tension between them. Her gaze flickers to the clock. Her shift ended five minutes ago. Thank God. “It’s past five. I should go, if that’s alright with you, sir. I need to get ready.”

Roy nods. His eyes still haven’t left her face. 

“Drive safely, lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” 

She pauses, momentarily. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, something that lingers even as she steps toward the door. He’s still looking at her- she can feel it. His eyes pierce through her, enough so that Riza wonders if he knows part of the reason she’s telling him any of this is to make him jealous. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t object, nor does he question her any further. It’s not his place to do so. They both know that. So, Riza leaves, her steel-toed boots clicking against the polished floors of eastern headquarters as she does. 

With every step that she takes through the hallway, she grows heavier with a mixture of regret and anger that pools in her stomach like tar. She shouldn’t have told him. She should’ve just gone on the dinner date with Havoc and returned to work the next morning like nothing had happened. Instead, she’s gone and made it convoluted by making Roy think that her and Havoc are going on an actual date…

Outside, the cold air bites at Riza cheeks, but it does little to quell the heat rising in her chest. As she walks toward her car, she finds herself glancing back, half-hoping, half-dreading that Roy might come after her.

He doesn’t.

~

Rebecca comes to do Riza’s makeup for her despite the short notice. Riza has never been very good at doing it by herself, as independent as she is. She sits on her living room couch with Rebecca across from her, smearing a pale, cool cream on her face with a teardrop-shaped sponge. 

It’s almost six o’clock. Riza is both grateful that Rebecca lives nearby and grateful that instead of laughing or making fun of her, she happily agreed and drove straight over upon receiving Riza’s call. 

“I didn’t know you were into Havoc,” Rebecca starts as she finishes blending the foundation and concealer, putting them away before grabbing a tube of lipstick. It’s a deep, dark, unnatural red that Riza wouldn’t normally choose for herself, but Rebecca insisted it would complement the dark green dress she did choose- mostly because it’s the only formal dress she owns that suits the chilly winter weather. “Can’t believe I’ve known you for this long and never figured it out. To be honest, I thought you were still into that colonel of yours.”

“I’m not into Havoc, and this isn’t a date,” Riza clarifies, and then puckers her lips so that Rebecca can apply lip liner, followed by the dark red lipstick.

She doesn’t bother addressing the accusation regarding Roy, because truth be told, she is still very much into the colonel. 

“Right, because a man offering to take you out to the nicest restaurant in town with just the two of you doesn’t seem like a date at all.”

“I know, I know,” Riza replies, a bit flustered. Rebecca is right- if Havoc hadn’t stated his intentions, Riza would think the same thing. Guilt gnaws at her when she remembers that she probably led Roy to believe it was a date as well. “But he told me it wasn’t a date, just a friendly outing. If anything… He’s probably taking me out so I’ll put in a good word to you.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Rebecca sighs and puts the lip makeup away in favor of an eyebrow pencil that she aggressively drags across Riza’s eyebrows. “So, what does your colonel think of this ‘not date’, then? Or did you not tell him because you knew he wouldn’t like it?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with him,” Riza argues. She shuts her eyes so that Rebecca can put on eyeliner, dark green eyeshadow, and mascara without her ruining it by flinching. “And to be honest… I don’t know what he thinks. I didn’t tell him the details, just that Havoc and I were going out alone tonight.”

“Trying to make him jealous, huh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Riza sighs. “Whatever I feel, whatever he feels, none of it matters. He acted sort of weird about it when I told him, like he was surprised, but… He made no attempt to stop me.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. You don’t sound like the intelligent, observant, practical Riza that I know,” Rebecca lightly scolds while applying some setting spray to keep the makeup in place. “The Riza that I know would be smart enough to see how he looks at you. Why don’t you just say something?”

“And get rejected? Even if he returns my feelings, it would be stupid for us to be in a relationship. The fraternization laws exist for a reason.”

“Riza, life is too short in our profession to keep everything bottled up the way you two do. Either of you could die tomorrow. Maybe… Maybe one day, you’ll get tired of waiting for him to make the first move.”

“What if I already am?” Riza frowns. Rebecca blinks and stares at Riza with shock lacing her expression. It’s clear that she doesn’t know what to say. Riza doesn’t expect her to know how to fix this when she herself has no idea. “...Never mind. Thank you for coming to do this on such short notice. I should finish getting ready and get out of here before I end up being late.”

“Of course. I’ll head back to my place, then,” Rebecca stands up and packs the makeup away before heading to the front door. She opens the door, turning back to look at Riza. “And Riza?”

“Yes?”

“You’re too hot for either of them, anyway. If things don’t work out with Roy, we can go on a date next time!”

“Thanks,” She chuckles. “I may have to take you up on that.”

“Have fun- but not too much fun- okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

With that, Rebecca exits the apartment, leaving Riza to give herself a once over in the mirror. 

What an unusual day…

~

The cold wind blows Riza’s perfectly curled hair out of place as she steps out of her car, adjusting the front of her dress. She rarely dresses in anything that’s not her military uniform or a t-shirt with cargo pants, but tonight is an exception, one she’s still not entirely sure about. 

Across the parking lot and a few feet away from the front door of the steakhouse, Jean Havoc waits, leaning back against the brick wall. He’s dressed in a neatly pressed suit with a dark blue tie. He has a cigarette tucked behind one ear and a grin on his face as Riza approaches him.

“Looking sharp,” He compliments easily, to which Riza smiles.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Well, I’m glad we could hang out,” He says before walking towards the door and holding it open for her. “Shall we?”

Riza nods, walking past Havoc and into the restaurant. He follows close behind. Inside, the warm, muted lighting casts a soft glow over the polished wood and white tablecloths. The low hum of conversation mingles with the smooth tones of a classical music band playing in the corner. It feels a world away from the stark, utilitarian atmosphere of the building that they spend their days working at.

The hostess escorts them to a small table near the window. Havoc pulls out a chair for her, and though Riza rolls her eyes, she takes the seat.

“This is definitely… Different,” She says, glancing around the elegant dining room.

She feels somewhat uncomfortable at a place like this, wondering if the knee-length satin dress she wore is appropriate, if her hair still looks decent despite the wind outside, if her makeup is smudged. Riza isn’t normally one to care about such superficial things, but she also isn’t normally at the nicest restaurant in town. Having grown up with very little money and going into the military as soon as she was old enough, she never got to experience things like this. To this day, she’s unsure of the proper etiquette, of the dress code, of whether or not she should even exist in a restaurant like this one. 

“Different’s the point,” Havoc replies, dropping into the chair across from her. If he can sense Riza’s unease, he’s kind enough not to mention it. “No paperwork, no mission reports, no Mustang. Just good food and good company.”

The mention of Roy makes Riza circle back to the colonel, as much as she wanted to avoid thinking about her predicament during her and Havoc’s dinner. She doesn’t know what he’s doing right now. Maybe he’s sitting peacefully at his home, working without her, already over her refusal to spend the night going over mission reports with him. Maybe he’s lamenting the fact that Riza is out with Havoc right now instead of with him. Riza doesn’t know. Roy is a whirlwind of emotions and confusion and unpredictable chaos. 

When the waiter arrives, Havoc orders a bottle of red wine for their table without hesitation. 

“I hope that wasn’t too expensive,” Riza halfheartedly scolds as she stares down at the menus on the table.

All of the bottles of wine are on the pricier side, but some are worse than others. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Havoc dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “Tonight’s on me.”

As they wait for their drinks, Havoc begins recounting a string of his most recent dates, which were all either horrible on their own or ruined by the girls inevitably refusing a second date. By the time he gets to the one where he sneezed on his date’s dress from across the table at the same time that he spilled white wine on her, Riza finds herself struggling to contain her laughter.

“And then,” He says with a dramatic wave of his arm. “I tried to save it by saying, ‘at least it’s only chardonnay- it’s less noticeable’, as if she didn’t reek like a winery and have a fat glob of green snot on her sleeve. You can imagine how well that went. Hell, I was so embarrassed that I asked to get transferred to eastern headquarters so I’d never have to see her again. That’s how I ended up meeting you guys.”

Riza chuckles, shaking her head. 

“And I thought the colonel had bad luck with love,” She wistfully sighs, thinking back to the string of dates that Roy has been on over the years.

Most of them have only been for intel, but some of them have been genuine attempts for him to find love that have never worked out. He doesn’t talk about them, but Riza knows that he’s never been on a date with the same girl twice.

Almost as if on cue, she sees the hostess walk two people past their table. One, a tall, beautiful woman with short blond hair similar to Riza’s and dark eyes. They actually look quite along, the main difference being that the woman is wearing a backless dress, something Riza wouldn’t ever dream of. The skin on her back is blank and unblemished, a beautiful canvas framed by ruby red chiffon. 

The other, Riza immediately recognizes, even though she only sees the back of him as he walks by. Raven hair, broad shoulders, a familiar black coat and white scarf, and the waft of his cologne are enough to give Roy Mustang away. He looks over his shoulder, gazing at Riza and Havoc momentarily. His eyes widen when he sees them. He quickly looks away.

Roy and the woman are sat at their table by the hostess, across the restaurant from Riza and Havoc but not completely out of sight. Roy looks totally miserable. Riza isn’t sure if that makes her feel better or worse. Did he figure out that this is where Havoc had planned to take her and show up to disturb their dinner? Or is this a coincidence?

Havoc shamelessly looks behind him to see what’s captured Riza’s attention, his smile falling when he sees Colonel Mustang and his gorgeous date. Riza isn’t sure if this date is for intel or if it’s… An actual date. Either way, she doesn’t like it. The shock and disappointment is so potent that she can’t mask it, even when Havoc looks over at her. 

“You shouldn’t worry, y’know,” Havoc shrugs. Riza is curious about whether or not he’s picked up on what’s going on between her and Roy. He answers her question with his next statement. “He may be a bit of a bullheaded idiot, but he’s only got eyes for you. Any other guy would be thrilled to be on a date with that girl over there, but Mustang? He looks like he’s seconds away from using his alchemy to light himself on fire.”

Riza doesn’t know how to respond, but the words from Havoc are comforting enough that she’s able to will her gaze away from Roy and the woman he’s with- at least for now. 

When their wine arrives, Havoc pours them both a glass. Then, he lifts his from the table in a toast. 

“To escaping work, even if it’s just for one night! Maybe if we get drunk enough, we’ll have a good excuse to ditch come tomorrow morning,” He snickers.

Riza lifts her glass and clinks it lightly against his.

“To that.”

Their food arrives shortly after. The conversation turns into silence as they both dig into their food, both of them clearly starving from a day’s work with nothing but coffee, water, and Fuery’s morning donuts to sustain them. Riza does everything she can to avoid looking back at Roy, even when she swears she feels his charcoal eyes burning a hole through her and Havoc. 

By the time their plates are cleared, Riza feels something she hasn’t felt in weeks; at ease. There’s no weight pressing down on her shoulders, no lingering thoughts of work or the war or Roy to distract her from the present moment. She hadn’t realized just how much she needed this until now. She wishes she spent time with her friends more often. Seeing both Rebecca and Havoc today has lifted her spirits more than she thought it would. Maybe, she thinks, she could get the entirety of Team Mustang together soon for an outing.

The waiter returns, asking if they’d like dessert. Havoc immediately looks to Riza, raising an eyebrow. 

“What do you think? Need some cheesecake in your life? How about a creme brulee?”

She shakes her head, already stuffed full from the steak, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and wine. 

“I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

“Well, that just means we’ll have to come back again the next time one of us gets a fat paycheck,” Havoc grins as he flags the waiter down for the check. He grabs it before Riza can even think of protesting against it. “Don’t even try. I told you, I’ve got this.”

“I don’t usually let people pay for me,” Riza mutters in slight discomfort, and it’s true. Even when the colonel orders them takeout, she always pays him back for it. “Next time, it’ll be me covering the tab. Understood, Havoc?”

“Fine, fine, if you insist.”

Havoc quickly pays the tab and pushes all of the remaining dishes to the side of the table so that the waiter can grab them with ease. The two of them walk out of the restaurant, side by side. When they reach the parking lot, they stop. 

“Thanks for tonight, Havoc. I wish I had evenings like this more often.”

“You deserve more of them,” Havoc replies. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, lights it, and places it between his lips. Smoke quickly billows into the cool night’s air. “And hey, if you ever need another night off, you know where to find me.”

Riza nods. 

“I might take you up on that.”

Havoc nudges her shoulder and shoots a wink in her direction.

“You better.”

With that, Riza returns to her car and starts the drive home. Again, she half-dreads, half-hopes that Roy will follow her- and again, he does no such thing. 

~

Riza goes into work early the next day. Though she enjoyed her evening with Havoc, by the time that she returned home and got into bed for the night, Roy was back on her mind. She found herself wondering how the rest of his miserable-looking date had gone, if he’d have rather been at his house with her eating Panda House and looking over mission reports. 

Guilt and anxiety well up in her chest as she enters the doors of his office. 

The blinds and curtains are pulled shut, shielding what Roy is doing from the outside world. With no light pouring into the small room, it’s mostly dark save the small amount of light that comes from the lamp on the corner of Roy’s desk. He’s sat on the edge of it with a stapled stack of papers in one gloved hand. 

Riza shuts the door behind her and approaches him.

“Good morning, sir,” She greets the colonel cordially, standing up straight beside him. His eyes stay trained on the paper, and she notices that the bags beneath them appear more prominent than usual. His hair is a mess, too. “What are you working on?”

“The mission report, remember?” He grumbles. “Look over it with me. I may have to have you make some calls to do damage control- those boys have really fucked shit up this time.”

“Of course, sir,” Riza agrees, not unfamiliar with having to work with Roy to fix the results of the Elrics’ antics.

They both stand there, staring at the front page of the report, but it’s clear that neither of them can really focus on it. A minute passes, and then two- long enough that both of them could’ve easily read the first page by now if they were paying attention. She checks the clock. It’ll be at least an hour before the rest of their team shows up for their shift. Dammit.

The room is so tense that Riza can barely breathe. When she glances over at Roy, he’s staring straight at her, and when she meets his eyes, he doesn’t bother pretending that he wasn’t.  

“How was your date last night?” Roy suddenly asks, much to Riza’s surprise.

Honestly, she suspected that going out with Havoc and not giving Roy the full picture before doing so might cause a temporary rift between them, but she never suspected that Roy would actually talk about it any more than they had the day prior.

“I don’t know, sir, how was yours?” Riza bites back before she can think better of it. She thinks back to Roy sitting with that girl who looked just like her, almost as if he was mocking Riza from across the restaurant. “You really seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I hope you’re joking,” Roy scoffs and turns around to toss the mission report onto his desk.

“Not at all, sir,” Riza flatly replies. 

“Alright, lieutenant, you got back at me for holding you at an arm’s length and made me jealous,” Roy sarcastically congratulates her, slowly clapping his gloved hands. The agitated, exhaustion-laced gesture pisses Riza off to no end. She can’t believe that, after all these years, he’s finally communicating how he feels and… It’s like this. “You got what you wanted. Good job.”

“Oh, please. You’re far from right if you think what I wanted was for you to tear into me this morning,” Riza rolls her eyes and steps away from him. “You go through women like Havoc goes through cigarettes and you’re going to lose your shit because I hung out with him for one night?”

“You’re more dense than I ever would’ve thought you were if you can’t see the difference between what I do and what you did last night,” Roy pauses, unable to meet Riza’s fiery gaze, almost as if he’s reconsidering what he’s about to say. He speaks again, his voice quieter now. “None of those dates, with any of those women, were ever real. But last night, you and Havoc… You… I could tell you enjoyed yourself more than you’ve ever enjoyed spending time with me.”

The softly spoken confession is enough to somewhat quell the anger and resentment that threatens to spill out- at least for long enough for Riza to take a deep breath and re-evaluate the situation. She regrets not telling Roy about Havoc’s intentions in the first place. Seeing him jealous and hurt, while it confirms his true feelings for her, is less than ideal.

“That’s not true,” Riza sighs. “And Havoc and I… I should’ve told you yesterday, but him and I are friends. It wasn’t a date.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say that earlier?” Roy demands, wide-eyed.

“Well, forgive me, I didn’t expect you to show up at the restaurant we went to like some sort of stalker.”

“What, like I did it on purpose?” He stammers. His cheeks are red with what Riza assumes is embarrassment and frustration. “It was a total coincidence!”

“Yesterday when we talked, you didn’t have any plans and wanted me to come to your house to help you with a mission report. Then, when I have a dinner scheduled with Havoc, you miraculously have a date that you just so happen to show up with at the very restaurant that Havoc and I were eating at?”

“After you left work yesterday, I was trying to follow you out to stop you from going,” The admission makes Riza’s heart skip a beat. So, he’d tried to follow her after all… “But she stopped me as I was on my way out and asked me on a date. She’s Fuhrer Bradley’s new secretary and I thought I could get some useful intel from her. Her family owns that steakhouse, so that’s where we went.”

“You could’ve at least had the decency to look like you were having a good time. That poor girl.”

“You proved your point, alright?” Roy groans, now holding his head in his hands. 

“Prove a point? Is that what you think this is?” Riza raises her voice without realizing it.

“What else could it possibly be? You had to have done that to fuck with me, right?”

“Are we really going to talk about this? After all the time we’ve spent avoiding it, me going out with Havoc is what finally gets you to talk?”

“You never said anything, so you can’t act like-”

“As if it was my job and my job alone to be the one to say something about- about whatever this is?” Riza angrily paces around the office now, her steel-toed boots clomping heavily against the hard floors. Roy just stares at her, listening. “You clearly knew how I felt- you could’ve said something, too.”

“Do you think I enjoy this? This- this thing that’s been festering between us for God knows how long? Do you think I enjoy only being able to spend time with you when we’re here or at my house under the ruse of it being about work?” Roy stomps up to her and places a hand on her shoulder, effectively turning her around to make her face him. Upon seeing the tears welling up in his charcoal eyes, Riza softens. She wants to reach out to him, to pull him into the hug that they both so desperately need, but she hesitates. “I want a normal life with you, Riza. I want to do the things that normal people do, to be able to take you out like Havoc did last night. Do you know how terrifying that is?”

“Of course I do,” She answers, exasperated. “Being in love with you after everything we’ve been through is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done!”

“You love me,” Roy says the words like he’s just had the breath knocked out of his lungs. “I love you, and you… Really love me?”

“I love you,” Riza confirms with a slight nod. “I’m in love with you.”

Before she can say anything else, Roy wraps his arms around Riza’s body. She melts into him, burying her face in his shoulder and letting out a shaky sigh of relief. All these years, everything they’ve done, have all been building up to this and it’s finally happening. 

After a few moments, Riza breaks away, afraid that someone will walk in and see their embrace. 

“Go on a date with me tonight, Riza,” Roy catches one of Riza’s hands within his own, holding it tight. His gloved thumb gently traces nervous shapes into the center of her palm. “No meeting up at my place in secret, no shitty Panda House takeout, no paperwork. Just a nice, normal date. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

Riza swallows, her heart fluttering in her chest. This scenario is one she’s fantasized about an embarrassing amount of times, but she never thought it would actually happen. Now that it is, she finds herself dumbfounded.

“What if-” She cuts herself off and looks off to the side to avoid Roy’s puppy dog eyes. “What if someone sees us? Your position is fragile. If someone sees us and says something-”

“We can go somewhere private. I’m done worrying about that shit- just look where it’s gotten us. So much wasted time.”

“Okay, then… How about a picnic at that lake a few miles south of here?” Riza proposes. “I walk Black Hayate there all the time. It’s usually pretty barren.”

At that, Roy smiles.

“I’ll start packing a basket when I get home. Pick you up at eight?”

Riza nods.

“I’ll see you then.”

~

A week later, Jean Havoc leans against the window of Roy Mustang’s office, looking in through the glass. His friends, Fuery, Falman, and Breda are by his side, watching along with him. 

“Hey, is it just me or is something… Different between them?” Fuery nervously asks while watching the scene that takes place within the confines of the office. “Do you think they’re okay?”

Havoc takes a long drag from his cigarette with a smirk taking over his face. Roy and Riza are there, with Roy sitting at his desk and Riza standing by his side. Instead of sneaking glances at each other when they think the other isn’t looking like they were just a week ago, they’re chatting happily about god knows what, practically beaming at each other. 

“You know, I swore something was off, but I thought I was just being paranoid,” Falman weighs in. “I’m glad someone else said something.”

“Yeah, I knew things were off when Colonel Mustang didn’t tear me a new asshole for spilling my coffee on his coat this morning,” Breda makes the observation with a somewhat uncomfortable expression as he places his hands on his hips and furrows his brow. Roy and Riza appear to be in their own little world, seemingly unaware of their subordinates gawking at them. “What do you think is wrong with him?”

“You know what I think?” Havoc starts. “I think my plan to get them together actually worked!”

“Your plan?” Falman questions, looking a little scared. “What do you mean ‘your plan’? Havoc, what did you do to them!?”

“Well, it’s sort of a long story, but after our little talk last week…”

[goawaypleasenowareyoukiddingme]

Venting Into the Void

Tw: Mention of rape, abuse, and Vivziepop.

Vivziepop claims to care about SA survivors but has a soft core rape porn playlist on her Zoophobia account. She defends fetishizing rape with a passion and talks over SA survivor voices. There are many times where consent is not taken seriously in her shows. Verosika raped Moxxie, Stella raped Stolas, Stolas sexually harasses Blitzo, Angel Dust sexually harasses Husk, all for laughs.

Vivziepop doesn't care about rape at all, and yet so many people want to pretend she does. It's sad. Her shows are so popular and you can't escape them. If you go to a convention, fanart of her works are everywhere and cosplayers too. Granted you don't have to like Viv to like her works but honestly, her shows aren't that great to begin with. The writing is inconsistent. It treats the audience like they're toddlers by telling and not showing.

And yet despite being capable of bashing a topic like "Charlie has Daddy issues" non stop with other characters saying it rather than showing it. There will scenes that require much more information, nuance, and care like the Loser Baby song. A song that fails to convey the message she tries to portray. It also sucks that Joel Perez sees no issue with people romanticizing the relationship between Angel and Valentino.

He will tell people critical of this to go watch Bluey rather than actually using empathy and critical thinking skills. On the plus side it seems Alex can understand valid critique of the show, as he was alright signing a critical video with Limus. Good on him. I'm glad despite Vivziepop clearly being an abusive person, that Alex will do as he pleases.

It's sad when people like Salem, Michael, and other employees get abused by her, and in Michael's case silenced. I hope that Vivziepop's victims get to live good lives. I just really wish more people could open their eyes and see that Vivziepop isn't a good person, that she doesn't deserve support. She's a privileged ritch woman that gets everything handed to her.

She doesn't need to be coddled, she already has enough yes men surrounding her. She'll never grow as a person for this exact reason. She throws away anyone who's even slightly criticizes her and keeps people who blindly agree with her. Also people still call her work independent but it's not anymore. Hazbin is a part of A24 and Amazon Prime. And Helluva has animation outsourced.

Independent animation has lee way for lower pay because it comes out of the creator's pockets typically. But Vivziepop doesn't have an excuse. She can pay her employees much more. She's seen on Instagram constantly taking vacations and splurging her money at restaurants. She actively chooses to not pay more. I can't escape Vivziepop related stuff in real life in convention situations and I can't escape it on the internet either.

Many artists that I genuinely like draw fan art of her shows. And I can't just unfollow every artist that makes that content as some of them are my friends and it seems like almost every single artist is doing it anyhow. I'd be following significantly less people if I were to stop following people who make Vivziepop work fan art.

I wish I could stop seeing related works to her on my timeline, it drives me crazy. Also Sam wrote that Valentino could be redeemed in season 2 so that only furthers the fact that Vivziepop truly doesn't give a fuck about representing rape in a caring way. Given that Vivziepop has drawn pedo, zoo, and other gross artworks, I wouldn't be surprised if she had committed some kind of crime herself.

It doesn't help her case when she promotes real animal abuse in Japan and is a pro-shipper. I saw someone say she's just a quirky millennial and harmless but she's anything but that. She hurts real people with her actions, she's kind of a monster.

Danm this was long but I just needed to anonymously get this off my chest. Sorry if there's any spelling or grammatical errors in this, it's just a vent not a professional article.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

They ate their breakfast and when the kids were done eating they ran to play somewhere else in the house.

Lucifer handed Adam a contract with a list of his responsibilities.

Adam: Wow.

Lucifer: I know it's a lot for one person and I can totally get someone else to do the outside portion. Nifty did it all but if there's anything on there you can't do, aren't comfortable with, or it's just too much nows a good time.

Adam looked it over and it wasn't anything too crazy, clean the house daily, floors 3x a week, dust daily, skim the pool, cook 4x a week minimum, and run errands.

What made it a lot was the fact the house could home 30 fucking people.

Lucifer: And you have the option to move in if you want, if it would be more convenient.

Adam nodded, it made sense he would be spending all day here he might as well live here. And this way he would never miss picking Abel up because he would live here too.

Adam: Alright I would just have to get our things.

Lucifer: Of course.

He showed him around and gave him keys to the house and a Range Rover Evoque. To do errands in. Lucifer even gave him a credit card to buy groceries and anything that Adam and his son or the house needs. With a $30,000 limit.

Lucifer showed him where the supply closet was for all the cleaning stuff and it was a big room in and of itself.

The only thing he asks is that Adam wears an apron. Which is fair he'll be working and it's better than a maids outfit.

Lucifer: My gardener Angel is here 2x a week, you may not even see him. And this is my home office should you need me for anything.

Adam: Okay, so when do I start?

Lucifer smiled: You can start today if you want unless you had plans.

Adam: Nope, but I will go to the house and get our things.

Lucifer: Sure thing.

So Adam drove to his place in the Range Rover and packed up everything him and Abel would need right now. Clothes, toothbrushes, toys, and he couldn't forget Abel's stuffed plushie lion named Muffin. It was a wonder he slept without him last night.

It was hard leaving this place, but Eve's parents hated them living here and he needed to take care of his boy. He was going to give him the life he deserves.

And Lucifer was helping him do that.

Okay! So, idk if you're familiar with any works I posted to AO3, but I have a coffee shop au called Freshly Brewed and I've been thinking about it lately..

I'd love a fluffy Rp of it 😩

I've seen a few things of yours but not that!

But, there's one thing to know about me, I love coffee shop aus!

I'm ready for some fluff if you are 👀