#opposed to himself giving over to be submitted by them

[dxxtruction]

Something to just consider is that Armand is a collectivist. Culturally I think this makes sense, considering he would've been raised in his foundational years in that sort of culture that values collectivism over individualism. He's also had to live in several high control environments afterwards, which demanded servitude, where putting himself first would've led to trouble, up to and including death. In the Children of Darkness, for example, the very idea of seeking pleasure at all is against the commandments, and since he is forced to lead this group (under careful surveillance), he can not therefore show if he even wishes to seek pleasure, because this would disrupt the collective thought, and further, place a level of threat upon himself for disobeying the laws he's meant to be upholding. He's at threat that he can be killed for it, because that's how such laws are handled. So he necessarily can not hold an individualistic, self serving, opinion, and hope to live, and lived in that kind of envoirment for centuries. Even the TdV carries on the same sort of traditions to less strict, more secular, degrees. Seeking pleasure in TdV is rewarded, even exhaulted, but the great laws are still imposed to the level of threat which is death, and everyone is always surveilling each other on this matter. He's a collectivist, especially in situations which impose certain, or uncertain threat of violence, for going against the group, or person, as in such a situation being individualistic is perhaps the last thing you may get to ever do. Nothing personally driven, therefore, seems that worth it provided the risk.

Whether he remembers this earliest period of childhood, or not, those sorts of values (likely positive then as things like sharing, community building, reaching mutually beneficial decisions, aid, and consideration of others feelings). Ingrained into his personality, and he doesn't have the kind of amnesia where it appears his personality was fundamentally changed by it. Rather, that since it's more of a dissociative amnesia barrier protecting him from traumas, that his personality would rather be fragmented, as opposed to altered. (Meaning such values are still there, but are now also acting alongside various further alteration to what is means to be in collective. And that if such amnesiac parts ever do surface, it is only reacting as if it is re-experiencing, and in the same context to the trauma. Depending on how complex this part is it could take on further environmental inputs while in this state, developing or simply having, essentially, its own personality... but I digress).

He does things for the group, which can at times only be one person, more-so than he serves himself. Placing what serves situation and context more highly that individual personal traits and feelings. But, by thinking he has no self, he naturally falls to self justifying everything wrongful he personally does, as for the benefit of the group. It's a cognitive distortion which doesn't recognize it's own selfishness because it sees itself as being selfless regardless of actual outcome. Further, this makes it so he takes no responsibility for others actions he may have caused, or to how a situation came about because of himself, if he doesn't then apply having any self to that situation. He'll bend to opinion even if its false, and create or even take on an entire role of falsehood, if he believes it serves a mutual benefit.

He uses this as a kind of shield against the world he must fundamentally view as threatening, and imposing, with very limited spaces of safety. But doesn't impose himself in healthy ways, therefore becomes an enabler of certain toxic behaviors getting out of hand, and creating unsafe environments. Desiring such places being controlled, and predictable, environments, but not fostering what's needed for that, and certainly not in a healthy way. Rather lending to manipulating others, or using threats, or force, to make it so he's secure in this. Again, self justifying that it's for a collectivist benefit. If he does at all recognize his own selfishness it's due to how he's able to come out of his own cognitive distortions, and dissonance, and admit faults and failings. Seeing that hiding his own faults and failings from others is something selfish, and therefore that he does indeed have a self there. In doing so, developing an understanding that he acts as a self in all things, and therefore understanding the effects of his actions are actually his. (Or else falling right back into the distortions). He has to be selfish, in a way, to ever be truly selfless. If that's really his goal.

To want something for itself, as opposed to some other means. To want good, love, and safety, for itself as opposed to what it does. He has to develop a sense of his own idea of these things, in order to form a consistent and more secure identity, not founded or attached to a group or person. And further needs whatever self that is, to be embraced, by himself, and not insecure in how others would react to it. To not be afraid of this self expression and personal desire, thought, opinion, feeling, and so on. By developing his own person he'd be able to better embrace his own bad qualities, even change them. As he then feels he has such agency, and isn't just simply reacting and serving to the world around him. I think there's something in how he changes Daniel which says he is moving in sort of this direction, there's something in how it appears he's roaming around on his own right now that suggests he is on a journey of this sort. I'm not expecting greatness out of it, but I am thinking there will be progress for present day Armand in future seasons. I think he is capable of change, and is not fundamentally as he appears. (And this would align to his narrative arc in the books anyway.)

And just also like I don’t think he knows entirely where the boundaries of anything really are or should be. Between himself and others or like where right begins and wrong ends and so forth. Not a moment in his memorable life, mortal or immortal, hasn't been without the presence of vampires, and therefore conditioned more under vampiric understandings as opposed to human ones. And because he's disconsidering of self, and hasn’t exactly been modeled what these should be, he's not able to function sanely in his environment. He's not sane I think I can say. But I do think he’s someone who learns experientially, and can do that on his own, so where those must lie he’s not in total lack of awareness either.

[nanaslutt]

have this idea stuck in my head for days

tojis obviously would be very opposed to the idea of subbing but hear me out, when you ride him and it just becomes too much, he would definitely let out little whimpers and be so embarrassed :((

I am SO into this.

Contains: fem reader, switch?reader & toji, dom!toji, nipple play, riding, backshots, soooo much dirty talk, daddy kink (i had to), lots of pet names for reader, pullout method used (shocker), praise, degradation, established relationship, toji is whipped for reader, face slapping, squirting, passing out during sex briefly (he stops)

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Your thighs are burning from supporting the rapid pace of your bouncing. Chastizing your aching legs silently, calling them ungrateful in this current situation.

Toji never let you take control. He hardly let you even ride him, and when you did he he often set the pace for you by fucking his hips up into your cunt. Toji like the dominance he had over you, loved seeing you go drunk from his length alone. There was nothing inherently wrong with his preference. Sex always being very satisfying with him.

But could couldn't deny that there were times when you wanted to see his facad fall apart. Growing wetter at the idea of him submissive underneath you.

You tried proposing the idea to Toji, but he shot it down down faster than you could even finish getting it out your words.

"There is no way I'm gonna be your bitch, sorry sweetheart." He delivered the news to you shortly, ruffling your hair in the process.

You argued back, "Cmon Toji, 's not like I'm gonna fuck you with a strap or something." Pouting when his large palm finished messing up the hair atop your head.

Head turning to stare at you with lidded eyes, disbelief plastered on his face at the mention alone of you fucking his ass with a fake cock.

Arguing back and forth for a while before settling on a compromise you could get behind. "Jesus christ girl, if this is so important to you, ill let ya ride my me or somethin."

You smiled, triumph filling your body at his proposition, "but if you don't fuck me right, I'm taking over." He stated flatly, making you roll your eyes at his overconfident tone.

Bringing you back to the current situation. Toji's large frame was sprawled out on the matress beneath you, large cock snug in your cunt as you bounced up and down. The pace you set didnt even come close to his usual speed, but you were just getting started.

You were so determined to make him eat his words, and show him how good submitting even just a little, could feel.

Pausing your bouncing for a second, his rough voice cut through the hot air, "Already done?" he smirked, tone having i told you so, laced all throughout it.

You lean back, hands bracing right above Toji’s knees as you plant your feet on the bottom of his abs, resituating yourself.

just you wait old man.

You stayed silent, giving him a small smile as you started thrusting your hips against him, sliding his hard cock in and out of your walls.

The new angle made his breath hitch, your cunt feeling so much tighter in this position. Toji's tip was being forced up against your tummy when you fucked his cock into yourself.

Trying not to lose yourself at the feeling of him directly hitting your sweet spot, realigning your brain to focus on your goal.

He licked his lips, jaw opening slightly, groaning unabashedly at the feeling of you deliberately clenching your cunt around him.

"Feel good daddy?" you teased, confidence filling your voice when his eyes repeatedly rolled back in his head. The older man’s hips fighting the urge to fuck into up you, trying to respect his pretty girlfriend’s wishes for the time being.

"Sure does cute thing, makin' me feel so fucking good." Grabbing the entirety of your ankles in his palms, using them to ground himself.

You catch him off guard, leaning forward swiftly and hooking your feet on the insides of his thighs, grinding your hips deliciously against his pelvis, providing your clit with mouthwatering stimulation in the process as it bumped against his hard pelvis.

"Fuuuuuck," he grit his teeth at the arousal knotting under his abs, his cock being rubbed against your walls delectably, making him feel lightheaded.

You braced your hands on his pecs, scratching your nails over his stiff nipples intentionally.

His reaction even catching himself off guard as he fucking whimpered. Body jerking when you repeated the process a couple times. His big hand coming up to cover his mouth, face turning crimson under his fingers when you picked up your hips again, pulling out till the tip was just inside before slamming them down roughly.

"H-aah," He breathily moaned, "You like it when I play with ur nipples daddy?" you whined with a smile, fingers coming up to the pretty pink buds, rolling them between your fingers.

His hand pressing harder over his mouth doing little to conceal his whimpers. You never would have guessed he was so sensitive here, never letting your sly fingers get close enough to test it.

“Can feel you twitching inside m-me” you moan out, pace of your hips finally matching the one he’s used to.

Watching his eyes repeatedly roll back in his head while he tried his best to suppress the whines that threatened to fall from his lips, making your clit fucking throb.

Abandoning one of your hand toying with his nipples to grab at his wrist, pulling at the hand covering his mouth, “Toji ‘s okay, w-wanna hear you.”

He feels the tips of his ears heat up, embarrassed that you had to comfort him like this. Usually having to be the one to console you when you were struggling to adjust to his length. He didn’t appreciate this reverse in your respective roles.

Dropping his hand onto you thigh and gripping hard, making the veins in his hand pop, he looked away from your eyes, “S-shut up.” he groaned, lip tucked snugly under his teeth.

Not letting his words get to you, thoroughly aware he wasn’t used to letting himself feel like this, you spoke again, “Sounds ur makin are getting me so f-fucking wet.” you praised.

Veins popping in his forhead at this as now you sounded a little too much like him, “That’s enough of that,” he quickly flips you over, roles falling back into their rightful place as he started pounding his cock into your cunt from behind, pressing the weight of his hard body against your back.

“Think you can talk to me like i’m some submissive slut? huh?” he growled into the shell of your ear, tongue darting inside, licking around in your ear.

“Tojiiiiii,” you whined at his mean hips, disappointed he had cut off your fun. Still fairly happy with the progress you made in allowing him to get used to being more submissive around you if he wanted, but still missing the slightly more domineering position you held moments ago.

“Cant believe you made me embarrass myself in front of you like that.” thinking back to moments ago when you quite literally had him whimpering under the assault of your hips and sneaky fucking fingers.

“Gotta put you back in your place,” he whispered darkly into your ear.

“N-not fair,” you moaned in retaliation, voice getting cut short as he painfully forced his cock deep into your walls, kissing your cervix with the deep angle.

“I think you had your- fun” he emphasized the last word with a thrust, “want me to admit it felt good when you rode my dick, huh? thag what you want?” Deep voice moaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting his dick like you were trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

“Think it was pretty obvious when you made me fucking whimper.” he spat, biting down on your hear and pulling it between his teeth before letting it go.

Leaning his body up and taking a strong hold on your hips, gripping them hard enough to almost guarantee to leave nasty bruises.

Toji pulled you back on his dick, your fingers gripping into the sheets for dear life as he fucked you like he had a personal vendetta against you.

And right now he did.

“God this little pussy is sucking me in so good.” his scared mouth forms a grin feeling you gush around him.

“Toji ‘s too m-uch” wining at the stretch of him still. Trying and failing to warn him of how close you were.

He pulls your hips back against him harder, shutting you up. “Nahhh you can take it.” he replies.

“Fucking- take- it” fucking his words into your body with each thrust, massaging your walls expertly with his girth. Your cunt pulsing around him unexpectedly as your orgasm crashed over you suddenly.

Transfixed with the cum squirting out of your pussy while he fucked got through it, “Oh yesssss, squirt all over me baby,” he encouraged, helping the cum spray out of you by rubbing his fingers back and forth across your clit,

“Fuuuuuck, oh-my-god” your voice squealed through it as little spurts of your arousal kept dripping out around his length.

The sheets underneath your body were fucking soaked, not having time to feel bad about it before you black out, limbs collapsing limply against the sheets, losing consciousness and the intensity in which you just came.

“Ahhh shit, heh” toji giggled, stopping his thrusts and burring his cock deep inside you before he leaned over your body. He slapped your face with his rough fingers a couple times before your eyes rolled back into place in their sockets.

Gaps and whines finding your tongue when you came to, tears falling down your face at sheer intensity of your orgasm. “You okay sweetheart?” he asked, keeping himself still, buried to the hilt while he waited for your answer.

Giggling when you nodded, stupid head unable to form any coherent words. “Attagirl, thought I killed ya’ for a second, that woulda’ been a new one.” laughing at his sick joke, while he kissed the side of your face.

“Think ya can keep going?” he asked, concern peeking out through his words.

Hearing you whimper out a quiet “mhmm” next to his chiseled face, he got back into position, pushing your back down into a mean arch as he started his pace up again.

“So good to daddy baby, promise i’ll make it quick.” staring down at you with admiration in his eyes as he thrusts recklessly into your cunt.

Words being a lot more literal that he thought, as he was only a couple thrusts in and already started feeling his balls tighten. Feeling the cum traveling through his dick, getting ready to give his load to you.

“Nggghh, gotta stop suckin me in like that, makin me think you want me to fill you up.” he groaned when your overstimulated pussy tightened, protestesting at his cock’s incessant thrusting.

Mind barely registering his words but your sweet voice slurring out, “yessss gimmie ur babiesss, cum inside me tojiii” anyways.

“Dangerous words doll,” he laughed feeling his cock react strongly to your words, “Maybe another night tho, pretty head doesn’t seem screwed on just right, right now.” much to your dismay he was pulling out soon after.

Jerking his cock quickly, hot ropes of cum decorating your ass while he groaned into the air, moaning your name full of pleasure while he came down.

He tapped your ass a couple times, signaling you to relax, body immediately obeying as your arch dissipated, flattening against the bed on your stomach, groaning at how sore your pussy felt.

He collapsed down on the bed next to you, pulling your abused body onto his sweaty torso, cradling you in his arms.

Feeling toji softly kiss your head while he whispered praises into your ear, mind slowly drifting off into what would be the best night of sleep of your life.

When sex got rough with toji and you fell asleep right after, much like now, he always made sure to wipe you clean. Never failing to wake up under his soft sheets, sticky mess cleaned off your body, slick between your thighs gone without a trace like it was never there in the first place.

Toji might be a rough man, not great with words, appearing intimidating and gruff to most, but he loved you and you really felt it with the little things like this that he did for you.

Rhythm of his stroking lulling you into dreamland, waiting until your breaths to evened out before he spoke, “felt kinda good to be under yer mercy like that, kid.” mumbling his confession into your hair before he situated you into the sheets next to him, standing to gather the supplies to clean you up while you slept like a baby, completely oblivious to his words.

[6esiree]

Teasing Alastor Into Submission

Summary: You bet Alastor that you could make him submit to you and he takes you up on the offer, confident that you’ll fail.

Warnings: Cursing, AFAB Reader, Usage of good girl/silly girl, Hair pulling, Biting, Alastor gets tied to a chair, The tentacles come out (but I call them tendrils), Oral (M!Receiving), Penetration, Slight breeding kink, Smut with some feelings. Erm, there’s some fluff at the end <3 MINORS DNI!

What an utterly humiliating experience it was to surrender himself to somebody as insignificant as you—but Alastor managed to hide his true sentiments regarding the situation by focusing on your nimble fingers, an amused smile gracing his sharp features as he watched them dutifully fasten his wrists and ankles alike to an old, wooden chair. You’d found it rotting away in a random storage room within the Hazbin Hotel, but now you were putting it to good use.

“Tell me, dear, is this really necessary?” Alastor asked, experimentally tugging against the makeshift bindings. “When it comes to you, yes,” You hummed, his body stiffening as you leaned in, your hand coming down to cradle his jaw. “Pardon me?” He narrowed his eyes at you, the room slightly darkening in his state of irritation.

All of this started with a silly little bet, one Alastor wholeheartedly believed he’d walk away from triumphantly. It only made sense, given the fact that you were young, weak, and recently manifested in Hell, everything opposed to the powerful and intimidating overlord fastened to the chair before you. Still, you were determined to prove him wrong, your thumb purposely traveling across his face at a leisure pace, his cold skin igniting beneath your touch and the room eventually lighting back up.

“I bet I can make you submit to me,” Your sweet, innocent voice echoed in the back of Alastor’s mind, a phrase he initially chuckled at now taunting him as he fought against the natural urge to shiver at your touch. “Perhaps even squirm and writhe underneath me, too.”

He vividly recalled the way he had approached you: the tips of your shoes kissing each other as he towered over you, leaning down far enough so that his face was only a few meager centimeters away from yours, all while his hot breath teasingly caressed you. You tried to turn your head away, flustered over your close proximity, but he firmly grabbed your chin and made you look at him, his thumb and his forefinger gradually applying pressure.

“You can do whatever your foolish little heart desires, my dear,” Alastor had practically whispered against your lips, and oh, how he wished he would have chosen his words more carefully, especially with your hand teasingly feeling up his thigh now. “Why? Because you’re destined to fail.”

The worst part was that Alastor’s control was quickly slipping away from his claws, feeling utterly betrayed by his body as you pressed your lips to his jaw, peppering him in feather-like kisses. You squeezed at his inner thigh, too, barely grazing the tent that was steadily forming in his pants. His ears fell back and his nostrils flared, and you almost felt guilty for putting him in such a vulnerable position…until he craned his neck to give you better access.

“I am merely trying to avoid your wretched lips,” Alastor weakly defended himself, even though he hardly protested when you went to remove his bowtie, or his dress shirt, or his pinstriped coat. “This means nothing,” He continued, his exposed chest heaving, and even more so at your curious touches.

You hummed in acknowledgment, the hand on his thigh unbuttoning his pants, all while you carded your fingers through his scarred yet pleasantly soft chest. Alastor stared right at you, and he would have had an unsavory word or two for you if you hadn’t trailed your hand down his stomach and past his briefs, your thumb gingerly caressing the head of his weeping cock and generously lathering it in his precum. You didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed in anticipation.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say it,” You practically sung, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, giving it a teasing squeeze before actually pumping him. “Ha! I can easily free myself and make you submit to me,” Alastor hissed defiantly, throbbing in your palm.

“Come on, Al, nobody else but you and I will know,” You said, resorting to sinking down onto your knees when he slowly blinked at you, unamused. “I won’t tell,” You tried again, but that didn’t work either. So, you introduced his cock to your watering mouth, staring up at him through your lashes.

No, Alastor would never submit to you, despite whatever filthy, whorish advances you made towards him; but he also couldn’t help but entertain you, tilting his head and tauntingly arching a brow down at you. You rolled your eyes before parting your lips, your tongue darting out to sensually lap at the precum thickly decorating the head of his cock. The old chair creaked as you leaned in and slowly swallowed him, your eyes fluttering shut, trying not to gag at his thickness.

“I hope you know that just because I am tethered to this chair with your poorly-made knots,” Alastor started, pausing at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks and sucking, stifling his pleasured groan by harshly gritting his teeth. “That you’re the one submitting to me…like a harlot.”

You paused mid-suck, the head of his cock peeking through your cheek. A harlot? Your eyes flitted up to the man, a wicked smile playing on his lips as your stares met, your cheeks flushed in what he could only assume was anger—but that was far from the truth. You were actually aroused, especially considering that he admitted that he could easily free himself; but there he sat, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards in confusion as you resumed sucking him.

“And yet here you are, allowing me to worship you like a common man soliciting carnal pleasures,” You said after you brought your head back with a ‘Pop!’, a scowl overtaking his features. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite,” You added, placing your hands on his thighs, straddling his lap.

Alastor would have let your words slide if you hadn’t called him out, his ego slightly aching at your quick-wittedness. He also hated that you were right, and that he found himself enjoying the sight of you hovering above his weeping cock, your dainty fingers simultaneously pulling aside the thin fabric of your skirt and your underwear. Your wet, puffy cunt simply served as a testament about how much you were enjoying being in control, and oh, did that irk him.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Alastor spat, his tendrils suddenly manifesting and wrapping around your thighs, their grip tight as they split you onto his cock. “Fuck!” You cried out, your hole burning at the stretch, panic settling in your stomach as he effortlessly tore through the makeshift bindings.

“Either you’ve lost sight of the power imbalance between us,” Alastor leaned in and hissed into your ear, his claws seizing your hips and tearing into your shirt. “Or you’ve become too familiar with me—regardless of which is the case, you need to be put in your place, my naive little doe.”

You shook your head, shakily saying ‘Wait!’, but he hoisted you up into his arms, the tendrils around your thighs vanishing as he stood up. Alastor pushed you up against the wall with a ‘Thud!’ the cheap wooden paneling almost splintering behind you at the forcefulness of the act. But all you could focus on was the thick cock throbbing deep within your warm, wet, gummy walls, raking your nails down his back, whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ah, well, look at who’s writhing and squirming now,” Alastor’s words caressed your temple, a groan quickly following afterwards as he readjusted your position, planting his palms against the wall, hooking the crook of his arms into the back of your knees. “I told you that you’d fail, didn’t I?”

He pulled out of you, a trail of your slick connecting your fluttering hole and the head of his cock. You were so, so relieved, and he knew that, watching your mouth fall open with a sigh. Despite how far you had pushed Alastor, ever the gentleman, he allowed you to adjust to his size before he fucked you properly. ‘Does that feel better?’ His static-like voice penetrated your ears, his tone harsh as opposed to the delicate movement of his hips, but how could you complain?

“Oh, yes,” You tossed your head back onto the wall, your eyes shut and brows knitted together in pleasure as his cock parted your folds, your cunt slowly enveloping him in a warm, wet, tight embrace. “You’re fortunate that I’m quite fond of you; otherwise, I would have never entertained your silly little bet.”

You let out a long, filthy whine, clenching around Alastor as he started to move against you, his pelvis massaging your swollen clit with every thrust. While he was treating you quite well—for now—the head of his cock hitting up into that velvety spot inside of you, you mostly derived pleasure out of his little admission. He was fond of you—the man sinking his sharp teeth into your shoulder, dropping one of your legs to snake a hand under your shirt and fondle a breast, and picking up the pace of his thrusts was fond of you.

“Fuck, Al, that hurts!” You hissed, carding your fingers through his hair and gripping it tightly, tugging, your bedroom filled with an incessant ‘Pat! Pat! Pat!’ as he punishingly fucked into your poor cunt. You were certain that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. “I get it, okay?” You cried out, “I was wrong, I was so, so wrong!”

Fortunately, he withdrew from your shoulder, a shiver traveling down your spine at the way his tongue swiped across his teeth, savoring the taste of you. You thought that was the end of it, but then he pulled out of you and turned you around, slamming your front against the wall. ‘Al?’ You asked, wincing as he pushed his cock back into you, one hand still on your breast, the other traveling up your nape and threading into your hair, eliciting a yelp from you as he yanked your head back.

“Tell me, dear,” Alastor whispered, dipping his head to meet you at his chest, your uneven breaths tickling his face. He placed his lips against your plush ones, but he didn’t kiss you, no. “Do you submit to me?” He wickedly asked, your eyes widening in shock at the question.

When you didn’t answer right away, he pinched your hardened nipple in warning. However, it was the static he constantly surrounded himself with growing stronger in his state of irritation, the popping and crackling overwhelming your senses, that had you vigorously nodding your head with a gasped ‘Yes, yes! I submit to you—please, just make the noise stop.’ He soothingly tweaked your aching bud with his thumb and his forefinger, the static disappearing almost instantaneously.

“That’s a good girl,” Alastor hummed, gingerly grabbing your chin and tilting your head sideways, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth at the term, the hand on your breast slithering down the delicate swell of your stomach and locating your clit, his thrusts picking up once more.

As much as you had wanted to dissolve the powerful and intimidating overlord into a submissive mess, the portraits hung up on your bedroom wall shaking with every snap of his hips, you accepted that it had been nothing more than wishful thinking from your part. But you were content to clench down around Alastor’s cock, the pads of his fingers swiftly moving back and forth against your clit. You moaned in ecstasy as your cunt spasmed around him, coating him in your juices, but he didn’t let up on you.

“Say it,” Alastor groaned into your shoulder, overstimulating you as he chased his peak, the head of his cock bruising your spasming walls with his desperate thrusts. “S-Say what?” You panted, reaching down to pull his hand away from your clit, but it was no use. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling helpless. “That you’re mine, silly girl.”

You clenched your thighs together and braced yourself on his forearms, craning your neck to whisper into his ear. ‘I’m yours, Alastor, I’m all yours!’ You said between every thrust, your words making his cock stiffen inside of you. ‘You like that?’ You continued, ‘Yeah, I’m your naive little doe, all yours to breed whenever you’d like—‘ He suddenly shut you up with a kiss, his hips stuttering and his hand stilling, painting your gummy walls with thick, hot ropes of cum.

Alastor knew that he couldn’t breed you, but in his passion-addled haze, that was enough to finally have him emptying himself deep into your cunt. He clutched your waist, claws piercing you as he held you against him, making sure that every spurt of his cum didn’t go to waste. Even when he pulled out of you and had you two dressed with a quick snap of his fingers, you still felt him pooling uncomfortably in your underwear. Nothing could compare to the next morning, though.

“My, my, is everything alright with you, my dear?” Alastor’s voice penetrated your ears as you descended the stairs with trembling knees, holding onto the railing to steady yourself. He manifested in front of you with a shit-eating grin, eyes glinting with amusement. “You look awful!”

An embarrassed flush crept up your neck as you mumbled, ‘Oh, go fuck yourself,’ eliciting a chuckle from Alastor. You arched a brow at him. He usually didn’t appreciate being cursed at, but apparently the man made an exception for you—or so that’s what you thought as he bent down at your level and offered you his hand, his claws anxiously flexing, urging you to accept the gentlemanly gesture. You sighed, muttering, ‘Fine,’ with a straight face.

“Ha! Now, why would I do that when I have you?” Alastor said as you placed your smaller hand in his, briefly twirling you before bringing you into his arms. “I was only jesting,” He lowered his voice, your heart thumping in your chest. “You look absolutely ravishing, my naive little doe.”

Taglist:

@cosmiiwrites @pumppkinlynn @spookieroz @gxstiess @polyo-nym-y @cosmiccandydreamer @vvzhyxx @shinynewboots @leonotlara @bimu2ndo2 @reachthestars @eris-norwega @alastorthirsty @wood-ow1 @freakyfrye

[boyfhee]

ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again. 

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it. 

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister. 

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait. 

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you. 

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks. 

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away. 

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,” 

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night. 

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two. 

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts. 

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips. 

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension. 

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer. 

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms. 

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee. 

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips. 

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you. 

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing. 

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while. 

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out. 

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it. 

noh chaeun  4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke. 

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys. 

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh. 

sunghoon  4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful  for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out. 

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything. 

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock. 

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?” 

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. ) 

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice. 

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay. 

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones. 

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you. 

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep. 

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain. 

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked. 

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,” 

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,” 

“are you high?” 

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course. 

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed. 

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck. 

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck. 

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down. 

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot. 

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up. 

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief. 

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT 

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,” 

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries. 

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat. 

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?” 

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room. 

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered. 

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light. 

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow. 

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his. 

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips. 

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently. 

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin. 

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire. 

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again. 

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,” 

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness. 

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room. 

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—” 

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response. 

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch. 

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out. 

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question. 

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply. 

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands. 

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it. 

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips. 

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of. 

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you. 

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed. 

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it. 

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him. 

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things

[brain-amoeba]

i was sent this ask:

"Hello, you! can there be a headcannon where, (Scout, Sniper, demo, and my favorite Texan, engi) hugging S/o and the merc is like: “Oh no I’m in love with them” as their face is all red? And, S/o is sorta worried about them and asking “you good?” this scenario has been itching my brain for a few days lol

Anon jilly🦭🌺"

and i believe you may have forgotten to turn anon on when submitting the ask, so i still saw your url. out of respect for your anonymity, i will answer here instead of from the inbox, so hopefully it still finds you well! also i hope you don't mind i do a mini scenario for these as opposed to HCs, just to give yall a little more content :3

Mercs Getting a Big Ole Hug

Scout

-You two always had a strong bond, and a dynamic like childhood friends. It was always fun and games with Scout, and when the time came, he knew how to comfort you and be there for you albeit in his own clumsy and Scout-y way.

-It wasn't until he noticed the way the other Mercs looked at you did he start to see you as more than just a friend--he now became acutely aware of how soft your skin felt when it brushed up against his, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, every small detail about you, and he couldn't believe he never noticed any of this before.

-It was your day off, and as usual, you spent it with Scout. The two of you tired yourselves out playing catch outside, as well as other fun roughhousing typical of your other pastimes. While running for the ball, you tripped and fell forward, but Scout was quick enough to catch you, and held you in a tight embrace. You instinctively wrap your arms around his torso and bury your head in his chest. He maintains his grip on you, but his face is as red as his uniform--all of a sudden the outside air feels cramped and he's getting clammy. It was like getting hit with his own Atomizer: all the times he's admired every little thing about you coming together all at once to beat him over the head with the realization that he was in love with you.

-You finally let him go, looking up at him and yelping a bit in surprise. "Scout?! What happened to you? Should we go see Medic?!" You ask frantically, concern showing on your scrunched features as you took in Scout's seemingly-ill state. "N-Nah, I'm okay, really! More than that, actually...I feel amazin'." He gazed at you with a softness you hadn't yet seen before, but it sparked a warmth in your heart and your tummy that you didn't oppose.

Sniper

-Sniper wasn't exactly one for PDA, let alone physical touch. Just didn't tickle his fancy. But you, something about you gave Sniper the desire, for the first time in ages, to hold, touch, and generally be around someone of his own volition. But for some reason, he just couldn't find it in himself to act on those desires. Whether it be his own deeply-instilled professionalism or cowardice, he couldn't tell. Whatever it was, all he knew was him being afraid of scaring you off. So he did nothing. The minimal interactions with you now would suffice, and his imagination could do the rest.

-You weren't exactly having the best day. Just yesterday, you scuffed a one-on-one encounter with an enemy merc that cost your team the mission, and today's target practice was not kind to you either. You found yourself alone on the range, tears of frustration pooling in your [color] eyes as you trudged along to set up the target dummy Sniper once again. Overwhelmed by frustration, you found yourself hugging the Sniper dummy for even the slightest sense of comfort, dropping your rifle to the dust below with a thud. The real Sniper, who had volunteered to check on you, heard the sound of your rifle hitting the ground as he left the base. The impact immediately spiked his adrenaline and caused the worst thoughts to run through his mind. He quickened his pace, almost falling over in place once he beheld the scene. Sniper couldn't help but feel a tug on his heartstrings watching you embrace the dummy of him. A warm flush crept its way to his rugged features as he realized the depth of his feelings for you way-exceeded his expectations.

-It's now or never, he thought to himself, finally finding the courage to approach you. He put a large gloved hand on your shoulder, eliciting a fearful shriek from you. Your face reddened with embarrassment, stammering as you tried to come up with a good excuse for your behavior. Wordlessly, Sniper wrapped you up in a tight embrace which immediately soothed your worries. "Shhh. It's alright, roo. Don't cry, now." He spoke just above a whisper, and despite being there to comfort you, he himself was trembling with anxiety at what he's just done. When you finally gathered yourself and parted from the Aussie's embrace, your eyes widened. "Sniper! What's gotten into you?!" He looked down at you with a slight smile, as if it would conceal the way his heart pounded in his chest.

"You have, sheila."

Demoman

-He wasn't always drunk! Okay, maybe he was, but that didn't mean he was always unaware. He was especially aware of a certain little merc who always took him to bed, always got him water, and always made sure to wish him a goodnight, even when the rest left him to drink himself to oblivion. He thought of you very fondly, like a close friend more than just a colleague. You were the first of the bunch to ever show a genuine compassion for him and actually attempt to care for him even in his drunken state (and he knew that was no easy feat).

-It was another night like always, the rest of the team off taking care of their own business while Demo had some precious one-on-one time with his scrumpy, this time accompanied by you! And you were actually drinking with him! It was the weekend, after all, and you decided what the hell, why not, and let your hair down a little. While not nearly as intoxicated as your Scottish companion, you definitely felt the buzzy warmth of drunkenness sneaking up on you. You felt more bubbly, confident, and silly. You gazed upon Demo fondly as he slurred through stories of missions, both failures and successes.

-Right as he was getting to the story's climax, he raised his arms above his head for dramatic affect, and you impulsively leapt into them. "Awwe Tavichhh, I wuv when you tell stowiesss" you mumbled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as if he'd leave you any second. The sudden show of affection almost sobered Demo up a bit, but he quickly dropped his arms and returned your embrace. In his drunken state, the warmth of your body against his felt like fire, and he couldn't help but notice the way you fit perfectly into him. Demo soon grabbed your shoulders, moving you back to meet his gaze. The sudden serious look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. "D-demo! What's the matter?!" He took in your flushed face as if he were looking upon the Mona Lisa herself before finally speaking, "Oh it's nothin, lass. I just enjoy lookin' at ye."

Engineer

-You were lucky enough to get some time off when you were informed this go-round of contracts did not include you. To your surprise, they didn't include Engie, either. You discovered this when you bolted for the workshop in a panic as you realized your prized headphones were destroyed! You were about to go on a walk before fishing them from your backpack and soon met with the disappointment of your prized possession in tatters--wires frayed, and hanging down almost mockingly.

-As you busted through the double doors of Engineer's workshop, he jumped in surprise, nearly dropping his wrench. "Well howdy to yourself too, darlin'!" He regained his bearings and approached you with a chuckle. "What's got you in such a tizzy, hm?" You simply raised the broken pair of headphones up*, looking at him like a lost puppy. "M-my headphones are destroyeeeddd!" You whined. Engie, behind his goggles, looked at you with a twinge of pain in his eyes just from hearing how distraught you were. Though he was empathetic to your "loss", he couldn't help but admire how adorable you sounded when you whimpered, and got a bit of an ego-boost from how you immediately came to him for aid. Engie took the headphones from you, inspecting them closely as he set them down on a nearby workbench. "Y'know, dear, these might not be a lost cause...let's see what some good ole fashioned Texan ingenuity can do!" He assured you with a sly smile.

-You fidgeted nervously as you watched over his shoulder while he tinkered away on your poor headphones. "Can I get you somethin' to drink darlin'? Maybe some water?" Engineer didn't take his eyes off the headphones as he spoke, currently re-twisting and wrapping wires before getting to work on the broken frame of the device. "I'm okay, thank you, Engie..." Truthfully, you were just too nervous to take your eyes off of the headphones while Engineer repaired them. Of course, you trusted his skillful hand, but with them being such a meaningful item to you, you couldn't help but hover over his shoulder and watch. Suddenly, Engie spoke up again, this time with a command-- "Close your eyes, dear." Nervously, you did as you were told. Engineer turned to face you, gently placing the repaired headphones on your head. Your eyes shot open and hands immediately went up to feel the newly repaired device now muffling your hearing.

-Without a second thought, you pulled Engie into a tight embrace. "Engie, you're the best!! Thank you so much!" You exclaimed, nuzzling his chest a bit as the two of you embraced. His large gloved hand gently caressed your back, giving it a slight pat in response to your praise. While Engineer typically maintained a relaxed exterior, internally, he was practically melting. A proper southern gentleman such as himself couldn't be indecent in the presence of a lady, but the fog on his goggles and pink in his cheeks said otherwise. You pulled away, removing the headphones. You went to inspect them further, but the sight before you stopped you dead in your tracks. "Engie?! You feeling alright??" He looked like he was about to pass out--and he felt like it, too.

-Engineer simply nodded, placing his ivory-colored cowboy hat on your head in response.

*this is exactly what i envisioned for this scene btw

[eretzyisrael]

By GIANLUCA PACCHIANI

BERLIN — In 2019, Gazan activists Hamza Howidy and Amin Abed organized and participated in demonstrations against the harsh living conditions in the impoverished Strip. They were both arrested by Hamas and placed in the same prison cell. Every day, they were subjected to beatings and torture.

Last August, Howidy, 26, managed to leave Gaza after another round of protests and another detention. Abed, 35, stayed behind, unable to afford the exorbitant exit fees from the enclave, and unwilling to let his beloved Gaza collapse further under the weight of Hamas’s mismanagement and repression.

Even after October 7, Abed refused to remain silent in the face of the devastation that the terror group brought upon Gaza. Earlier this month, the well-known activist, a longstanding thorn in Hamas’s side, published a Facebook post in Arabic excoriating the Islamist group for its onslaught against Israel.

“Hamas knew from the very first moment [that Israel would retaliate], but it was ready to give anything in return for the continuation of its rule, the hen that lays golden eggs for its leaders and its investments abroad,” a paragraph in the post read.

Shortly after publishing it, Abed was assaulted by over 20 “thugs” – Hamas security members, according to bystanders – wearing masks and wielding batons and knives in the school where he was sheltering with his family. His arms and legs were broken.

“Amin [Abed] is the bravest Gazan you could ever meet,” said Howidy of his audacious friend and former cellmate, in an interview with The Times of Israel.

“He was never afraid of Hamas. Whenever we thought of organizing a protest, he was the first one to post about it, to speak up. He dedicated everything to opposing Hamas,” Howidy said. (Following his assault, Abed said in a recent interview he is now considering leaving Gaza as well.)

Howidy lives today in Germany, where he arrived a few months ago and submitted an asylum application. He receives shelter and a stipend from the German government.

Safe from Hamas’s retaliation against himself and his family – who in the interim lost their home in an Israeli airstrike and have also left the Strip for Egypt – Howidy is now a vocal Hamas critic on the international stage.

He maintains an English-language Twitter account where he documents the suffering of Gazan civilians at the hands of both Hamas and the IDF. He has also penned a number of op-eds in prominent magazines, chiefly among them Newsweek, and given interviews to international media outlets describing Hamas’s terror rule over Gazans and chastising self-professed liberals on Western university campuses for hurting Palestinians by absolving Hamas of its crimes against them.

[madockisser]

I just read How the king of Elfame learned to hate stories, the "So long as you are begging, he doesn't mind a bit." line at the end of the blurb stuck in my mind

He mentions begging in the books. Although he also begs Jude at some point iirc

Do you have any thoughts about how this almost power dynamic is important to him? Or why he'd be fond of it

I'm not sure how to word it properly, he's in a precarious position with the rest of his siblings for a good part of his life, Balekin manipulates him amongst other things.

why is cardan such a sadist?/ cardans struggle w power

hi! great question, i hope i answer it to your liking!

from what we can tell of cardan and his character, he doesn’t have much. he has his status as prince, and that is all that he can cling to. it’s his only advantage.

we know that he is not fond of courtiers, faking their admiration for him, allowing him to slap and use them; all while they can go home to someone they truly love.

all his life he assumes that cruelty gets him what he wants, it ensures that he keeps the little amount of power that he has, while his brothers scheme and kill for the throne, he hurts and humiliates those that question his power.

but any sort of dig against ppl, making them feel lesser so he can feel greater, making jude beg and submit to him so he no longer has to feel anything for her, so she won’t consume his thoughts with her disobedience, gives him that small amount of power, since a human girl opposing him, all while he sorta loses that battle against her, makes him look weak. in the eyes of his friends, family and the court/gentry

anyway, while he ofc can “fall out of favor” w his siblings, those sort of relationships w them do not matter to him, he insults caelia to her face in htkoelths, he does not care for dain, he cares a bit for rhyia, perhaps bc he sees most of himself in her, the way she is casual when it comes to her royal duties, and bc she is kind to him when the rest are not, when the rest have deemed him as balekins princely little monster, with an awful prophecy over his head.

what matters to him is his father, not that he likes him much but he still strives for what seems like attention from him. so he is cruel and sadistic for the sake of his father taking notice of him, bc thats all he knows

in twk, jude finds a crystal ball where asha neglects cardan until he hits another boy, and at that she laughs greatly and pays attention to him. being cruel is all he knows, the only way for him to be seen by his father, even if it is bad attention, atleast it is attention at all.

as for that power dynamic, again, he relishes in any chance to show ppl he is powerful, that he is important, even when he really isn’t.

so as jude opposes him, he is reminded time and time again that not only does jude have everything he wants, a loving family, but she has a strange sort of power over him, the power to make him feel not only desire but eventual care for her well being. which isn’t a feeling that he feels often

pair those feelings with the fact that she is human, and the fact that balekin encourages him to kill humans but cardan instead frees them, and takes beatings for them, he is very conflicted and angry and upset at his feelings for her.

he doesn’t want to care, it would be easier to act as those he has a heart of stone.

i assume his feelings make him feel awfully powerless, which is obviously a feeling he does not like, since he consistently goes out of his way to show his power to the court by acting without consequence and casting those that get in his way out of court.

anyway, later on he is begging to jude because at this point, i think he’s realized just how far gone he is in his love for her. he is vulnerable w her in a way that he never was w nicasia or anyone.

w nicasia he flaunted his power, pretended that he was more important and influential than he was, w nicasia he formed his group of friends that took advantage of his power and hurt him w it.

but w jude, he felt powerless bc of the powers she had over him, first off, his desire for her, second, his love for her, and third, ofc the bargain that quite literally made him her slave.

until jude, his sadistic power dynamics were used to hurt those around him, but then he learned that he’d much rather feel powerless so long as jude is there w him. he’d also learned that he can be useful, which he’d never thought before jude. he learned that he doesn’t have to hurt and lash out for a power thrill, that he can be powerful in being a good high king.

jude was the only person that taught him that he could be loved and worth something at all, without having to reach out and claw that love from someone’s hands.

jude and cardan understand each other in a way no one else in their lives ever bothered to.

and abt the begging part, im sure he also likes to simply see jude begging as well. after all they put each other thru, im sure they both like seeing each other beg.

hope this answered your question! if not, feel free to leave another ask!! 🫶🫶 and feel free to add on as always!

also i just want to add, i see everyone’s asks, and am working on quite a few, though i am still doing my reread, which is why it’s taking so long to get to my older asks! so sorry!! i answer the newer ones if they are easy to answer, w things that i already know w out having to grab my books to look for it.!

[overalls4all]

Kyle sighed as he stood in front of the mirror.

"All right, here we go I guess."

Kyle initially scoffed at the idea when the law was first proposed. Surely mandatory overalls for all men was just some kind of joke. But it seemed to find popularity. Several of Kyle's friends started wearing overalls and voicing support for the law. His manager even started giving raises to employees who worked in overalls. In spite of all of this, Kyle never imagined the law would come to pass.

That morning is etched in Kyle's mind when Overalls for All became law. He remembers looking at his phone and seeing the headlines: "Bibs Become Law - All Men to Don Overalls", "A Triumph for Masculinity", "Overalls Distribution to Begin Tomorrow". Kyle spent the whole morning pouring over social media, in shock at his freedom of expression being taken away. While many expressed anger at the new law, Kyle was more surprised at the levels of support especially from his friends and family. A post from his cousin praised the leaders for voting to protect traditional masculinity, while his friend Jake posted a photo of himself, hand over his heart, in overalls.

Suddenly a call: it was from his friend Michael. Kyle knew Michael opposed overalls, so he was eager to commiserate with him.

"Can you believe his, man?" Michael asked on the verge of fury.

"It's crazy. We all have to wear overalls by tomorrow? What about freedom of expression?" Kyle replied, his voice a mix of anger and despair.

"We can't just lay down and accept this like so many others. We have to resist! Let them know we won't just let them walk all over us. Because if we do, who knows how else they will try to control us?"

Michael's rant was interrupted by a text: All male citizens are to report to their local Overalls Distribution Center by 6:00AM tomorrow. Please wear a white shirt to create a greater uniform appearance. Please see address below for the location of your local Overalls Distribution Center. Failure to report will result in arrest and prosecution under the Overalls for All Act.

"Dude, did you also just get this text?" asked Kyle.

"We need to fight back today!" proclaimed Michael. "We need to show them we aren't weak! Can I count on you, Kyle?"

Kyle's head was spinning; it all seemed so real now. Was he really going to report tomorrow to receive his overalls? He didn't want to wear a uniform, but also he didn't want to get arrested. He didn't know what to do.

"I - I don't," stammered Kyle. Was he really strong enough to resist?

"Come on, Kyle, please," Michael begged. "I can't lose another friend to this conformity."

Michael was right. A lot of their friends cut off communication when they adopted overalls. In the Overalls for All movement, men were only to socialize with other men in overalls. They called themselves "bib brothers". They did seem pretty happy to conform, Kyle thought. It certainly seemed easier to just go along with it all.

"Michael," sighed Kyle. "I need to think about this. I mean how long do we expect to fight back?"

"I see. You're going to give in. Fine, be that way. Be obedient like all of the others. You don't deserve freedom if you won't fight for it!" Michael was shouting by the time Kyle hung up. Kyle couldn't deny Michael's words, but he couldn't deny that overalls were the law of the land now. He had no choice.

Kyle spent the rest of the day packing up his old pants. He wouldn't need them any more of course. He received texts from enthusiastic friends and family asking if he was going to wear overalls now. Kyle decided to ignore them for now. He still felt ashamed for submitting to the new law. He went to bed early that night, eager to just get the first step over with.

Kyle arrived at the Overalls Distribution Center a little before 6:00AM and already the line had over one hundred men, all in white shirts and the last pair of normal pants they would ever wear. This is it thenI, Kyle thought to himself. He could see on the faces of the other men that he was not the only reluctant one.

The line began to move. Each man was given a pair of blue denim overalls and forced to change n front of every one. In groups of ten, they were forced to watch a video explaining how overalls foster masculine traits like hard-work, respect for authority, and conformity. After the video, each man was forced to individually and then as group recite a pledge to wear overalls for life. As it came to his turn, Kyle had more moment where he considered resisting. He seeing the group of men, dressed identically, he didn't want to let them down. They were all here for a reason and that was to conform and obey. Kyle knew if he just recited the pledge, it would confirm to the group that they made the right decision.

Kyle stood, placed his hand on his bib and recited, "I pledge to wear overalls every day for the rest of my life. I will commit myself to uphold the masculine ideals of hard-work, respect for authority, and conformity. I love my overalls and I will fight until men around the world join me in bibs. Overalls for All!"

The group applauded, causing a small smile to appear on Kyle's face. He felt affirmed in conforming, and as he sat back down, feeling the straps on his shoulders gave him a rush of excitement.

After the pledges concluded, Kyle marched single-file out of the Center. Outside were crowds of men in overalls, cheering the new recruits into the Overalls for All movement. Chants of "Overalls for All" echoed through the streets as Kyle made his way home. He knew there was one thing left he to do.

Kyle sighed as he stood in front of the mirror.

"All right, here we go I guess."

Kyle snapped a picture of himself in his overalls. He posted it to his social media with the caption: Couldn't resist, and overall, I'm feeling great. Overalls for All!

Immediately, he was flooded with like and supportive comments.

Looking great man! Welcome to the club!

I'm proud to wear overalls besides you, bro!

I'm so happy for you, son. Can't wait to recite the pledge as father and son!

Kyle was beaming as he read each comment. He knew now that he made he right choice. He hadn't lost any freedom; he was freer than ever! All he had to do was obey and conform and he knew he would have the support of a community of men.

Kyle spent the rest of the day chatting with friends, raving about how great overalls feel. Kyle especially loved feeling the bib against his chest. As he was commenting on posts, he came across a story of protesters getting arrested. It appears they would be sent to re-education centers to learn the value of overalls. Kyle wondered if Michael would be among them. He hoped so; Kyle wanted Michael to see the errors of his ways and embrace the uniformity of overalls.

Kyle counted himself lucky to live in a country that valued conformity in its citizens. The nation was united like never before. Kyle was happier and prouder than ever before. He stood again in front of the mirror, smiling bib strap to bib strap, as he recited his pledge once more:

"I pledge to wear overalls every day for the rest of my life. I will commit myself to uphold the masculine ideals of hard-work, respect for authority, and conformity. I love my overalls and I will fight until men around the world join me in bibs. Overalls for All!"

[toushindai]

Hello, it is me again with a question for you regarding your Ganrauru series 😁

I was just thinking about how you have framed Rauru's relationship to power, that there is a part of him that does seek the sort of friendship and genuine connection it brings while also bristling at the idea of someone opposing him and discarding his attempts at making said peace and friendship. That being said I was wondering, given Rauru's very complex feelings and mental gymnastics around Ganondorf and his refusal to submit, in your opinion what would have Rauru felt compelled to do had Ganondorf refused his advances? What if he had continued to refuse his invitations to Hyrule? How about in the case where Ganondorf does give his false vow of fealty, but refuses Rauru's more sexual advances, seeing them for what they are? How do you think Rauru would handle this situation, and how would he justify himself in the sort of framework he has set for himself as a just king? (For the record I don't think for a second that Ganondorf would have refused, just because I see him as an opportunist and he would absolutely take the opportunity to exercise some form of power over this so-called king in his mind, even if he is deluding himself in the process and choosing to forget that Rauru is essentially keeping him like a prisoner and objectifying him. But, it is something I do think about, even in the context of canon itself. What would Rauru do if Ganondorf and the Gerudo dug their heels in and refused allegiance with Hyrule?)

Ooooh this is such a great question. Consent issues ahoy, let's get into it

I was thinking about something similar the other day from a slightly different angle; if I argue that the Gerudo's previous chieftain was leading Rauru on, maintaining diplomatic relations and humoring his overtures, what would have happened if she had eventually said "No, actually"? And I think with either negotiating partner, Rauru's first emotional response is a petty, confused indignation. Excuse me I am benevolent and my rule is beneficial, why are you not responding to me accordingly?. We see this kind of pettiness canonically, I think--Zelda introduces herself and his response can be interpreted as "No, I'm king here, you want to try that again?"; Mineru tells him he can't defeat the Demon King alone and he gives her such a look. My guy, what is going on with you.

How this plays out with Ganondorf and a protracted refusal from the Gerudo to join up is of course a slightly different question of course, and I can't really see any answer to it other than that Rauru just... will not hear a no. Hyrule just keeps pushing the boundaries of what they can get away with. The shrines are already in place on Gerudo land but what if there were, you know, a military outpost or two as well. How much control over trade does Hyrule have, and how do they exercise it? Is there eventually an attitude of, well, if the Gerudo want nothing to do with Hyrule, then Hylians shouldn't be marrying Gerudo? I'm spitballing here, but a lot of this has an air of punishment to it, yknow? Retaliating against the Gerudo for not responding positively to Hyrule's invitations/incursions, for not playing into Rauru's self-conception and thus revealing the ways in which it's not fully true. Wow, so benevolent.

I don't see any world in which Rauru escalates to armed conflict first but I see many, many worlds in which he escalates to a point that armed conflict is an understandable response from the Gerudo. I mean. Is not "I have decided I'm gonna be king of this new kingdom I just made up :) You're invited!" already pretty close to that point? If we're being honest? I do feel like it is. (And I wonder if there's any world in which he loses the support of the allied tribes, if this pressure ever could have been perceived as the imperialism it was.)

How does Rauru justify this to himself, this refusal to acknowledge the Gerudo's no, this inch-by-inch encroachment? By conflating, I think, his personal sense of injury with the threat of harm. Ganondorf does not want the Gerudo to become part of Hyrule is shrunk down to the petty, personal terms of Ganondorf thinks of me as an enemy and then expanded again into Ganondorf is an enemy of Hyrule. He's right about that last one because Nintendo is so very boring about this, but he's making a series of logical fallacies without realizing it. I don't see a lot of propensity towards self-reflection in Rauru. Not without Very Bad Things Happening to Him first. So he trusts his own feelings without questioning them.

As for what would have happened if Ganondorf had turned down his sexual advances... oh that would just be awkward for everyone, wouldn't it? In the sense that: I think that part of what keeps Ganondorf from pushing back when Rauru is being petty and imperious is Ganondorf's own recognition--conscious or not--that Rauru will not necessarily listen to a no. This is his experience of Rauru thus far, of someone who receives an implicit no and rather than respect it simply keeps asking and thinks himself right to do so (canonicallyyyyyyy). And so there is a risk for Ganondorf in saying "no": that of winding up in a situation where he has drawn a line in the sand that he cannot defend. One that Rauru will coldly step over. Rauru doesn't want to be in this situation, either: he doesn't want to see that he is a person who will only accept a "no" if he thinks it's justified. His mind squirms around admitting how coercive he's being, even to himself. But on some level he does know what sort of position he's putting Ganondorf in. He knows that Ganondorf is not in a position to say no, and that's a balm on the ego-wound that Ganondorf's political refusals have inflicted. One that reveals that the true nature of the ego-wound is not he does not think I am good but he does not acknowledge my power. (Again I gesture towards "I'm the only king Hyrule's got, who r u" and "excuse u, wat do u mean I can't defeat the Demon King")

So if Ganondorf did actually say no? In ACNOC, after that first kiss, a cold, "I don't want this, Your Majesty"? There is a part of Rauru that flares with the desire to take anyway, to say have you not come to offer me your submission?, but so early in the situationship maybe he is able to recognize that desire for the cruelty it is. ...Maybe. But god, can he afford to? Can he afford to apologize to Ganondorf for overreaching? Mm, absolutely not. Even if he ceases to try to goad Ganondorf into a sexual relationship, I think the answering dialogue is along the lines of "Then what makes you think you have the right to invade my personal space like this? Your actions belie your claim that you have come to offer submission to Hyrule." There's still very much a need to put Ganondorf in his place--an increased need, even, having just lost a bit of face by allowing Ganondorf to refuse him something.

(consent issues get louder)

At the end of UAWTATR, though, hhhhhhhh. Many times I have turned this thought over in my head. At that point. I think there might be some phrasing of the sentiment I don't want this that would stop Rauru in his tracks with the realization that hey this is WAY rape-ier than I wanna be, but I'll be honest. I haven't figured out yet what phrasing would do it. I think most protests that Ganondorf could have offered would have been met with something that boiled down to I know you don't want this, but your position relative to mine means you're going to do it anyway.

How he justifies that to himself later, I don't know. Ganondorf did try to assault him just the night before so that comes into it, probably. That Ganondorf immediately tries really hard to kill him keeps him from having to look to closely at it, either. He's still left with a feeling of nauseated shame and horror but he's got other things on his mind.

God. Nintendo cannot possibly have meant to make Rauru like this but then why did they make Rauru sO CONSISTENTLY LIKE THIS. I know I am expanding things. But I am expanding things that DO exist. Why is he like this.

[archduchessgortash]

The fact that Gortash will decide to kill your character if you choose the dialogue option to freely give him the Netherstones is one of my favorite things about him. It either supports his opinion of the player character as his equal, is indicative of rebellion against one of the core principles of his religion, or shows evidence of the Absolute's ability to influence him.

It also suggests that he's not the dom that much of the fandom makes him out to be in their headcanons.

Banite doctrine dictates that subordinates must be subservient to their masters. Subservience in this specific interaction, however, can get your character killed. Worse yet, babygurl is now the enemy. Perhaps, then, they are NOT his subordinate? 🤔

The newly appointed Archduke has generously acknowledged your character as worthy. If he does not see them as his true equal, then he at least sees them as a valuable ally with the potential to be an equal. Your character's submissiveness is an insult to him. How dare they suggest by their willingness to give up the Netherstones that he would permit them to take his own stone without a fight? How dare they be so spineless as to simply do as he says?

If that is who they are, they can roll over and die. He has no use for them.

If he truly sees your character as his subordinate, refusing to allow them to behave as one is directly opposed to his own religious doctrine. Even the Banites' own codes state that the rules of the cult are the only ones that they are obligated to follow. All others are irrelevant. If they are indeed his lesser, Gortash should accept the stones and let your character tag along as cannon fodder, but he doesn't. Is it a subtle rebellion against Bane, or could it be the Absolute exerting her influence to bring the Astral Prism to her directly?

If Gortash is brought to the morphic pool, the Absolute makes it clear that she was in charge, at least from the point of Orin's attack on Durge. She let Gortash and the others believe that they controlled her while she used them to grow more and more powerful. It's fun to think that the genius mastermind was ultimately no more than the Absolute's pawn. How many of his decisions were influenced by her? How much of the Golden Reign of Gortash would even have been Gortash at all? 🤔

The Absolute is as interesting to ponder as the scrunkly Banite himself.

From a personal perspective, the fact that this man expects his allies to stand up to him is one of the reasons that I like him. It also supports my theory of him as a switch, not a dom. Anyone who flat-out submits to him is not worth his time, beyond the time spent to end them, that is. He's a little like Brynhildr. She would only wed one who was without fear.

As popular as top Gortash is, I don't personally see it as particularly in-character for him. The delivery on some of Gortash's more dominant lines is certainly attractive in its tone, so I can totally see why fans would want that. However, in the circumstances in which the lines are spoken in-game, they don't inspire me to fall to my knees. 'You will follow, and you will show due respect' is so very throat-punch worthy.

Ballsy of Gortash to think he can talk like that to someone who has been utterly annihilating his religious hoax... and happens to have recently ganked an immortal paladin.

Plus, the avatar of Myrkul.

And possibly every living Bhaalist in the city, including his high priest and his chosen.

Maybe an undead dragon.

Perhaps even the son of Mephistopheles in his own house.

Gortash wants to say, 'Yes, dear.'

I love that you have to call Gortash's bluff not once but twice, or you're not worth keeping alive. He is surrounded by sycophantic Banites who will do anything he wants because of the way in which their hierarchy is structured. It must get pretty boring after a while. His dislike of Orin isn't the only reason he's so thrilled to see Durge.

I think the last thing he truly wants to hear is a, 'Yes, sir/master.'

[bonefall]

does grey wing still get to say The Line™? (kill me, and live with them memory. then tell the stars that you won)

I want him to keep the line, and then add onto Clear Sky's response. In canon he backs off after this and it's ridiculous; like a lot of other things I really despise the direction DOTC went in as opposed to the lore set up in the field guides.

Just for the record, here is the scene right from the book. Clear Sky stops the First Battle because of Gray Wing's line and it is essentially the "start" of his redemption arc;

Clear Sky stood over Gray Wing. “Just give in!” Gray Wing lay on the ground, gasping for breath. His flanks heaved desperately as he stared up at his littermate. “Never.” He aimed a weak blow at his brother’s muzzle, but it missed clumsily. “Give in!” Clear Sky growled threateningly. He lifted a paw. Thunder froze. Gray Wing pushed himself onto his paws, his legs trembling. “Kill me,” he rasped at Clear Sky. “Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.” Clear Sky held his gaze. “Don’t make me do this, brother.” His mew quivered. “All I want is for every cat to be safe. To have borders to protect us and make sure we have prey.” Gray Wing staggered closer. “You want to tell every cat what to do,” he wheezed. “You always have and you always will. You’re so greedy for power, you’ll kill your own littermate to get it.” Clear Sky let his paw drop and turned away. “I can’t...” His gaze flitted over the bodies littering the clearing. Cats fought on weakly, staggering more unsteadily with every blow. “Stop!” Clear Sky yowled. “This battle is over."

-The First Battle, Chapter 20

Instead of StarClan furiously interrupting the battle, Clear Sky gets a brief moment where he pauses and calls the battle off. This doesn't live long; Chapter 21 that follows is us zipping into his ridiculous head as we get to watch this waste of ink;

Think about how he just wanted to help his clan guys :(

Think about how sad it is that he did something mean to his son and he feels soo guilty :(

Not even remember killing Rainswept Flower, he was 'so mad he didn't know what he was doing like someone else was fighting for him' :(

GET DEFENDED BY GRAY WING. AGAIN. THIS IS THE ENTIRE SERIES, CLEAR SKY DOES SOMETHING ABHORRENT AND GRAY WING GOES "hes not that bad be nice to him :("

So, basically. Neat line. Too bad the rest of DOTC is around it.

In my take, StarClan is the one who stops the battle. Clear Sky hears the line and sees Gray Wing refusing to submit, "Kill me and live with the memory, then tell the stars that you won."

And responds, "I'll drown the stars in their own blood if they stand against me!"

At that point, Thunder leaps in, ready to fight him to the death in defense of Gray Wing, taking the sentiment of the rest of the scene. A crack of thunder and a shining light is what ends the battle, not Clear Sky calling it off.

[written-in-flowers]

I was wondering if you can write another nsfw with Otto Hightower. I loved the last one you wrote! maybe a targeryan reader who likes to tease the man until he explodes 🤭 Thank you so much!

A/N: Thank you! I planned on writing both of yours together, but I really wanted to take a different direction with this one. I honestly had no idea so many people thirsted for old Otto over here, and somehow I ended up thirsting too lol

***

Otto sat at his chair in the small council room. It'd been a rough start to a long day. A lot of important matters about succession, inheritance, costs, and alliances came up at the table today, and he'd prefer not to even think about it. Aegon was Visery's son. He told the king it was high time he put Rhaenyra aside and name the boy his heir. The realm will stand behind a man; not a woman. He stared out the window across from him, waiting for the last of the members to leave the chamber, before he noticed you standing there.

You wore a jade green gown with small green beads making flower patterns on the bodice and waist. You'd pinned up your hair for the day, letting it tumble down your back away from your face. He noticed the pearl that hung right over your breasts, shiny and gleaming in the light. You'd worn it for him. It gave him an excuse in case someone caught him looking at your chest. It'd been difficult to pay attention with you looking as beautiful and radiant as you do. He was meant to be conducting important business, yet couldn't stop himself from imagining them in his hands.

"Is that all you think of when you see me, my Lord Hand?" you asked teasingly, walking back over to him.

"I have no idea what you mean, Princess," he said innocently.

You stood near him, your body inches from his, and looked down at him, "About having me in any manner your perverted mind could dream up?"

He chuckled, and turned in his seat to face you. Placing his hands on your hips, he gave a soft squeeze as he said, "I think of you in many ways, Princess. You completely submitting to me is only one of many."

You ran your hands through his hair, and pulled it back by a few strands. "But what about you submitting to me, my lord?" you said between kisses, "What if it is you who gives himself over to my whims completely?"

"That is not something I'm opposed to."

He brought you into his lap, and wrapped you in his arms. Otto assumed you'd already sent the guards away, but time will still be limited. It was only a matter of time before your children or his daughter or someone comes seeking you both out. Otto planted soft, hungry kisses along your neck, and down to your exposed collarbone. The soft scent of lavender clung to your skin, which drove him wild. It was the same powder you'd dab between your thighs for him. He'd grown to associate the two together: your sex and your scent mingled together in his nostrils. You softly moaned in his ear when he gripped both your breasts; he tried his best to feel them through the layers of fabric separating you both. His cock stirred in his trousers once you began grinding into him. He felt between your bodies to feel your sex, the folds molding to his digits easily. This made you whimper, and he continued kissing against your throat.

But, it was you who took the reigns. You slipped off his lap and onto the floor at his feet. Otto rested back in the chair to watch you push aside his clothes to reach the lacings of his pants. Delicate fingers deftly undid the flap hiding his cock from you. Those same fingers them slid inside to withdraw the semi-hard member inside; they slid over the smooth skin that turned pink as more blood pumped through it. He saw how you stared at his length, longing to suck and taste it. But, instead you stroked. He gripped the arm rests of his chair as you began lightly moving your hand up and over it. Your thumbs massaged the underside, earning a soft groan when they reached his tip where you squeezed gently. He imagined you doing so much more to him. You laughed when you caught him staring at your cleavage again.

"Do you wish to see them?" you asked cheekily, already pushing your dress down your shoulders.

"Yes...Yes, please."

His jaw dropped when you revealed them to him. You hadn't put on a bodice today, leaving less for you to remove. He reached forward to grab them, teasing your nipples and pinching them gently. You continued stroking him while he did this, biting your bottom lip and whimpering at his touch. Such a responsive woman. Such a naughty princess. He continued teasing your nipples from a distance as you drew closer between his legs. You finally placed the flat of your tongue under his tip, slowly swirling and flicking it before sucking just the underside. Both your hands on his base, your thumbs teased the top curves of his ballsack which left a tickling sensation he liked. He licked his thumb to rub over one of your nipples.

"Only you get me this excited," you said, licking up and down his shaft. "Only you make me feel this way."

"Is that so?" he leaned forward a moment, and took one of your nipples in his mouth. Your moans became music to his ears, "Because I feel the same, Princess." He brushed his tongue over each one before letting you get back to working on him. "If only you'd been wed to me when...when you were younger...the things we've could've done...the places we could've done them...your body belonging to me...and mine belonging to you, oh..."

He stopped when you finally took him in your mouth. Otto felt your tongue rubbing the veins while your lips sucked the rest. He rested back, enjoying the sight of you and your bare chest. It amplified when you moved forward and placed him between your breasts. You held onto them, squeezing his member with them while you sucked the reddening tip. He never thought he'd ever witness such a vision before now. He didn't reach forward or move to stop you. Otto shut his eyes and let the sensations flow through him. He didn't care if somebody walked in right then and saw you both. He'd deal with the fallout later. Right then, he wanted you. Soon, your spit and his leaking tip left droplets between them. He put the picture to memory for more private times.

"We cannot linger long, love," he breathed when you fully stuck him in your mouth, going all the way to his base and humming softly. "Perhaps we take this to my-Y/N!"

You'd stood to sit on his lap again in reverse, moaning when he slid inside you. Hands on his knees, you gave shallow strokes as you bounced on him. He looked down to see your sex clinging to him every time, going in time with your moans and whimpers. Otto pulled you back to his chest, and immediately grabbed for your breasts. He couldn't help pushing into you, but the position made it difficult to do so without falling off the chair. He rolled your nipples between his fingers as he fell into the combination of emotions taking over him.

"Is my lord going to cum for me?" you teased, keeping his hands on your breasts as you grinded on him back and forth. "Are you going to spill it over me again?"

"Ye-y-yes," he muttered, eyes closed and forehead on your shoulder as he concentrated on you. "My little harlot is fucking me so well, and her cunt is so tight."

"And your cock is so-"

You didn't get a chance to tell him about his dick, because he lifted you up and pushed you onto the table. Otto began pounding you properly now, and you laid there flat on your front as he did it. Eventually, you began quaking underneath him, huffing his name and wiggling for more friction from him. Otto groaned deeply when he felt your pussy tighten and release your juices over him. He let you work it out on him before he lifted you from the table. You held your breasts and opened your mouth right when streams of white fell onto them. You let it fall onto the tongue, and remnants fell onto your tits. You cleaned each other up like always: you licked up every drop you could from him, and he did the same in return. Of course, when he did it, you only orgasmed a second time because once his tongue touched your sensitive nub, you didn't want him to stop.

"Come to my chambers tonight," he requested as he kissed your swollen sex, "And let me fuck you properly, Princess."

"I cannot, I'm afraid."

"Why not?" he frowned, unable to stop himself from continuing to taste you.

"My lord husband is returning from Driftmark," you said, propped up on your elbows and watching him. "He'll expect me in our quarters when he returns."

He snorted, "As if Laenor has any interest in your parts...not like I do, at least." He made a point by taking your soaked clit in his mouth for a greedy suckle that made you squeal. He growled into you as he sucked up your juices, making you grind into him.

"Otto," you giggled at his greed, sitting up so he was forced away from you. "We must keep up appearances, shouldn't we?"

He sighed, defeated, and began straightening himself up. "I suppose you are right," he said, grabbing at your sex now that you'd covered your chest up again. You both laughed in another groan and kissed deeply. "But, forgive my greediness," he said, sliding two fingers into you so you gasped, "Once I've tasted your sweetness, I'm unable to stop so suddenly."

"You can have my 'sweetness' another time, my lord," you said, forcing yourself to remove his hand and slide off the table. You gave him one last kiss, "In the sept tomorrow morning then?"

"The sept," he nodded in agreement, kissing you again before letting you go.

He tasted you on his fingers as he walked out of the room behind you.

[ultfan]

@wrinkled-sheets-and-sunlight continued from this ask.

With Gundham's 'habit' of using sex as a show of dominance -- something Teruteru, Kazuichi, and even Fuyuhiko could attest to first hand-- it really was no surprise he'd found a way to get Nagito on his knees for him. It's more of a surprise that it hadn't happened sooner, really.

What was also a surprise was that Kazuichi had wanted to join in-

Okay, no it wasn't. Ever since coming out as bi and learning how to calm the hell down when it came to literally everything, Kaz had found he was more than a bit of a whore. Gundham had been a hatefuck even before he had come out, of which had helped him realize that he wasn't as straight as he had convinced himself to be.

He liked being at someone's mercy, what a fuckin' surprise.

Sometimes he did like to be in charge, if only a little bit, and watching as Gundham shut and locked his dorm door after a rather blunt proposition to the other two boys (First catching Nagito after class, and then Kaz on their way to the dorms, the mechnic simply knowing what was about to transpire) he decided he totally got where the breeder was coming from with the whole 'I'm better than you, you're the dirt beneath my boots, worship me' Thing.

If he wasn't sure of his part to play before, he definitely knew what he wanted now.

Snaking his arms around Nagito's waist from behind, Kaz pressed his already half hard member against his backside, those sharp teeth giving the faintest of nibbles at the pale skin where shoulder and neck met. "Soooo, what're we gonna do to 'im?"

Gundham gave a chuckle at Kaz's eagerness as coat and scarf were removed, a plan able to fully form in his mind now that he knew Kaz would be his partner in this instead of Nagito's. For now, at least. Gundham wouldn't be surprised if the mechnic broke down and begged to be fucked somewhere down the line, almost hoping it would come to pass. How pretty he sounded when was pleading to be touched...

"I was thinking we would allow our guest to choose, seeing as it was not our original plan for a third. Not that it's unwelcome, mind you." The reassurance was quick, Gundham not liking the nervous look that fell across Kaz's face, like he had inconvenienced them or something.

"What say you, Cursed One?" Low in tone, heavy boots made their way to the pair in slow, calculated steps, Gundham's hand reaching up to grip at Nagito's chin to force his attention his way. "The Tamer of Automatons is quite clever with that tongue of his, though mine is not to be disserviced either." Purred, Nagito's head was titled up as Gundham leaned just a breath away from his lips, all the while Kaz pressed nipping kisses along his throat. He wasn't breaking skin, not yet, but it was a show at just how dangerous those teeth could be.

"Or perhaps you wish for one of us to fuck you, the other taking this pretty little mouth of yours. Or you us? I would not be opposed to having you on your knees before me, and neither would Kazuichi, I do believe. Though I am not one to submit so easily, if that is the path you wish to tread. Kazuichi on the other hand..." Sputtered protest rang over Nagito's shoulder, even if it was true, quickly silenced with a pointed look of darkened eyes, that had Kaz swallowing hard.

"Well? What do you wish of us?"

                     the proposition had initially surprised him, but it was one komaeda was eager to accept. honored, to accept even. excitement stirring up within him even before souda had been invited to join in as well. something that komaeda also wasn't opposed to in the slightest. to have one of them interested in something like this was one thing... but both of them?

                     he felt so lucky!

                     breath hitches in his throat as he feels souda pressed up against him, body tensed in anticipation. just the feeling of lips and teeth on his skin is enough to get him worked up. how hard he's already gotten would be embarrassing were he capable of being embarrassed by such a thing. thankfully for him, he's not. even though that, too, would probably be a turn-on...

                     eyes stay locked onto tanaka as he removes his coat and scarf, eager to hear the answer to souda's question. but rather than receive one, the onus on answering is given to him.

                     the pounding in his chest increases as his chin is grabbed; his eyes locking with tanaka's, his eagerness shining clearly within them. he swallows visibly as his options are listed, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. he could never make one of them submit to him, of that he's certain. if they were some nobodies, sure, but that wasn't the case. they were chosen people — symbols of hope — the ultimates specially chosen to attend this academy. to attempt to take control in a situation like this would be impudent — it was ridiculous to even consider.

                     ‶  i couldn't possibly ask you guys to service someone so unworthy.  ″ it wasn't his place — but he doesn't sound disheartened by it. no, he was quite content with this role in this world. the one only he believed that he had. he smiles, almost softly, his hand coming to rest on tanaka's shoulder for the time being.  ‶  i wouldn't mind you both using me for your own pleasure. actually — i insist!  ″

                     it's not as if komaeda is one to hand things over easily; not often, at least. he likes to challenge, he likes to see them overcome the odds and come out the other end even better than before. as much as he claims to want to be useful to them all — for them to use him — a stepladder could hardly be called a stepladder if you didn't have to climb it.

                     ‶  please, feel free to do whatever you want to me. though, i can't promise i'll give anything up for free either.  ″ a laugh mixes with his last words, light and airy —  almost a little mischievous. naturally, he knows he can be moved around by either of these two no problem. he's weak and frail, easily picked up — pinned down — thrown around — you name it. still, it's fun to play a more teasing role every now and then.  ‶  haha, but i'm sure the ultimate breeder wouldn't have any trouble taming such a lowly beast, right? well — i guess that goes for the both of you, huh?  ″

[hiswordsarekisses]

Most of my Christian walk I focused on the last part of this verse about resisting the devil in trying to resist Satan's attacks and accusations. One day my daughter pointed out to me that we have to pay attention to the first part of the verse first because it is most important and it literally tells you how to do the second part. "Submit yourselves therefore to God" is the actual “victory strategy!”

We cannot resist Satan in our own efforts - but that is exactly what happens when we do not first submit to God.

The key to a successful walk with God - is complete submission to God from your heart. We cannot depend on our own human resistance to the devil.

We have to let go - first of all - giving God everything. That includes everything that may give the enemy an entrance or access into our life that he may use to attack us - and anything that may be hindering or even blocking our spiritual growth. We should always even ask God to expose, and make us aware of the things we do not realize are giving open doors or windows - or causing us not to grow! Because sometimes we do not even realize!!

We have to surrender our own preconceived ideas on how to overcome sin or Satan and rely only on God's Word. His Word and prayer are the only weapons we have and they are the only weapons we need, along with the love of the truth. I literally pray every day that God will put the love of the truth in my heart.

I had to learn to actively set my attention on spiritual matters throughout my day - His Word, His music, etc. Keeping my attention fully on God, with God honoring things.

This is why I tend to post so much, because I’m constantly in the Word throughout the day - in my personal Bible, my Bible app, my strategically filtered newsfeeds, playlists, etc., and when something ministers to me I am compelled to share it, because my thinking it that it’s likely to help others as well.

“For though we live in the flesh, we do not wage war according to the flesh. The weapons of our warfare are not the weapons of the world. Instead, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We tear down arguments and every presumption set up against the knowledge of God; and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” Corinthians 10:4-6

Our main source of attack and conflict in life is not with other people, but against spiritual forces of evil (Eph, 6:12), For that reason, worldly weapons will never defeat our real enemy and demolish Satan's strongholds.

Only the weapons that God provides will do that - and they will help us with things like resisting the devil, ungodliness, and false teaching.

The love of the truth, the Word of God, and prayer are powerful weapons from God against spiritual enemies.

They will literally force demons out of our lives, wash us clean, and literally transform us.

It’s tempting to listen to, and rely on human wisdom - which can seem helpful at times, but not lasting - and it won’t have the spiritual power that comes from God's Word (which is ALIVE and transforming).

Only the power of the Holy Spirit can destroy sin's power in people's lives, and rescue them from Satan's sneaky schemes.

Our spiritual warfare is often fought on the battleground of our minds, and this requires bringing all our thoughts and desires into line with the character and purposes of Jesus, which we find in His Word. When we don’t do not know His Word it leaves us wide open to ungodly thoughts and battles that seem to just take over our lives.

Some of our thoughts originate from our own desires and imaginations - or they can come from worldly influences - but many come directly from evil forces trying to influence our thinking.

These ungodly thoughts, fears, and temptations will literally resist, oppose and set themselves up “against the knowledge of God!” (His Word!!!) But we do not have to let them hold us captive! We do have control over what we think!

It is not a sin to be tempted or have a thought. Jesus himself was tempted (Matt. 4:1-11). But giving in to temptation is a sin, and dwelling on the thought can lead to sin.

If we deliberately and foolishly expose ourselves to images and situations that we know will bring ungodly thoughts and desires, we have already crossed a boundary line and set ourselves up for failure - God promises a way of escape - but if we choose not to take His way and the escape He shows us - it is definitely sin.

When a thought or temptation comes into our mind, we have to immediately take hold of that thought before it goes any further into our spirit and consider how it measures up to the standards of God's Word. We cannot dwell on the thought - we have to catch it and replace it with the truth of God’s Word.

I will say “No!” Out loud, and then I will say out loud “God please take that out of my heart and replace it with Your character!” And I speak His Word that applies against that thought out loud as well. (Of course if I’m in public I will either speak under my breath or in my mind!) it’s no good scaring people lol!

I always ask for His strength, especially if I’m having trouble with being bombarded with a certain thought, or a train of thought.

Like: "God, here it is; take it. You already dealt with this as you suffered for my sin. I need your help with this issue, and I submit my thoughts to you."

Philippians 4:8 says that "whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable - if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."

These kinds of thoughts will actually guard our mind against ungodly desires and help us say "No!" to the devil, temptation and sin.

This is how we “set our mind” (and thoughts) on God, His Word, and eternal things, rather than on earthly things.

We have to be careful what our eyes see and our ears hear, because these are the absolutely powerful doors to our mind.

“Those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh; but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. The mind of the flesh is death, but the mind of the Spirit is life and peace” Romans‬ ‭8‬:‭5‬-‭6‬‬

[ginza-division]

Masa's Thoughts on Ueno Division

Aranai Norikoru

"Ah, the rebellious, miscreant young girl who, in years past, caused a sea of turmoil and anarchy to wash over the country of Japan. She had just started her path of destruction around the same time I created The Crossroads. She had all of Japan under her boot, but it seems the Lord finally saw fit to punish her when she bit off more than she could chew. It is nothing less than what she deserved. I would have been pleased to hear that she had been locked away for life along with her miscreant friends, but that was not to be, unfortunately."

"Still, despite the fact that she claims to no longer have ill intentions, I know that she still harbors a darkness inside her soul. Normally, one such as her would have a place in my Church, but... no, I don't think she would fit in. Besides the fact that she is allied with the heretical Shisuta Heisha, our place of holiness has no place for a malevolent reprobate such as her."

Shisuta Heisha

Masa's face turns into a scowl as he looks at the photo of the Catholic sister. His disliking for her is apparent for all to see.

"Ah, the heretic, herself. You and your wretched mother have caused me no end of trouble. I was all set to lead this dissident country known as Japan into a new age. I would have made it a place united under one religion, one purpose, and one God. And any foolish blasphemers would be made to either submit and renounce their wicked ways, or they would have been cast out, for both my Church and the Kingdom of God would have no place for them. It would have been beautiful!"

"...But. That dream, that vision, that... reality. It was never to come to fruition."

Masa suddenly snarls and growls at the photo.

"And all because of you and your damnable mother! She opposed me, and told those foolish clergy members not to make me the new Archbishop! And they believed her! She ruined everything!"

The priest angrily punches a nearby table, making a crack in it, while also making his hand bleed. He breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down. It takes a minute, but he manages to regain control of his emotions.

"...As much as it would be easy to have you and your mother killed, no... That would be letting you off too easily. No, a more suitable punishment would be to have you experience when the good Lord took your child from you: pain, anguish, and fury over not understanding what you had done wrong. ...Yes, the D.R.B. will be the perfect battleground between the two of us. And we shall see who the Lord favors more: you, a heretical sister, or me, His most esteemed servant. It will be a battle worthy of Armageddon."

Kisouna Yuzairu

"...Perhaps the only tolerable member from this team. Her hatred for disorder, chaos, and tyranny is comparable to, dare I say, my own. I also do not have a love for evildoers or evil in general. However, sometimes I know that to create lasting peace, you must be willing to do some things that fall... outside of the moral line. It was for that reason I created the Crossroads, as they have no issue with what must be done."

"Besides that, I must admit I admire her drive and ingenuity. She seems to have an earnest desire to see justice done. A woman like her would be of great benefit to the church. ...But considering she is a sworn friend of Heisha, I doubt that she would join me willingly. What's more, I don't know if she will be happy with some of the work that goes on behind the scenes here in Ginza. So... as much as it disappoints me, I'm afraid she will have to suffer along with the rest of her team in the D.R.B."

Sakurai Clan

"Despite how popular and familiar this team may be with the Divison Rap Battle, I am not at all worried. In fact..."

Masa gives a small chuckle.

"...I am actually looking forward to it. You may have had a bit of success so far, Shisuta, but that has sadly come to an end. As stated, the crimes and sins your mother has done will be paid for fully. If you wish to blame someone, then blame her for the punishment you will receive when we meet."

Masa laughs softly, before blowing into a full-grown guffaw as he departs the scene.

[beholdenning]

Zelkov rarely settled down to sleep on purpose, usually falling into naps and bouts of sleeping on his desk while he worked on a hobby, but this was different. He was tired enough to actually sleep, and he still had a purpose in it.

He snuggled Denning, holding their back to his chest as if he was cuddling a huge stuffed animal. However, Denning and their comfort were important than a pillow. He yawned, kissing their shoulder. “Is this alright?” Their legs were a little entwined, and Zelkov had pulled blankets over them both for warmth.

Denning’s form in his arms was soothing, even if it was Zelkov who was curled around him protectively.

It didn’t take long for Zelkov to actually fall asleep, breaths soft against Denning’s hair, even in sleep wanting to comfort them and refresh them.

Night comes, sleep does not. It never does, not truly, the closest being periods of recovery after injury, spent in a half-conscious stupor as hide slowly mended itself. Even that is never an unwilling thing.

Oddly enough, he finds himself oddly willing as opposed to simply pliant tonight, wrapped up in another— Another for whom sleep only comes fitfully, oft involuntarily, undoubtedly human and mortal, born rather than made.

There is a degree of delicacy in it, in how Zelkov cannot help but submit in time, in how he willingly lets the morph witness that vulnerability. Yet Denning is the one being held like— A treasure? A gift, a prize...

No, not that, not quite. Lips press against their shoulder, and Zelkov asks, once again, ever probing for answers, ever looking to handling them suitably, ever seeking to mold his hands to Denning than the other way around. Ever giving them affection they are not sure they've earned. (Perhaps that is why they are so willing to give their everything for him to wield.)

Their legs tangle together like roots at water, like flowering vines. It is true that they are being held like something precious. But it is not covetous or admiring or proud...

(they're being held like life.)

Denning sighs, gently, bobs his head to show that yes, this is agreeable, clasps his hands over the other's to keep him there. He exists serenely, evenly, falling back into the other’s light, letting it envelop him, letting it near-consume him and all he is in the dark, letting his senses narrow solely to the rhythm of mortal life, growing slow, quiet, diminuendo, legato. The quiet is not silence, between the warm hum of Zelkov's presence, the rise-fall, the stir and soft sound of his breath in peaceful slumber. The night is set adrift, hours floating away outside a snug hollow, a sphere of something like sunlight. Pale fingers lace into darker, just to hold like how he is being held.

This quiet, filled by another...

Yes, he quite likes this kind of quiet.