#situation and it would have been interesting if not for the underlying like... 'you never know! there IS a big chance that they are sexist

[vintagegeekculture]

LeVar Burton’s 1997 Novel, “Aftermath”

A lot of Star Trek cast members have turned novelist, but the absolute best one is the one by Levardis Robert Martyn Burton Jr., Aftermath, written in 1997. I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that the best one was by the Reading Rainbow guy. It is so much more than just “well, I’m a successful actor, I think I’ll play novelist now.” 

Aftermath is essentially if Jordan Peele directed the next Mad Max movie: a post-atomic war book, it is about how a second civil war split the US, causing a racial strife situation where black people are hunted for their organs by roving gangs. It fits perfectly with the anxieties of today, about division, classism, collapse of society, a sense many nations are fundamentally unstable at their core and due for a split, and centered on unending racial strife that never gets resolved.

But this came out in the 1990s. To say this was ahead of its time is astonishing. To live in the 90s and see that where that era would all end up requires some extraordinary, clear, and uncommon vision.

For those who didn’t live through the 90s, the closest thing I can compare to the 1990s to was the Victorian Era. There’s a great anecdote about a patent clerk who quit his job in the 1870s because he thought everything had been invented already, so what was the point of his job? That was the typical mentality. Like the Victorian Era, in the 90s, there was an illusion that society and technology had reached their final and ultimate form, that society going forward would be just more of this but with minor variations for all time. Of course, underlying the Victorian Era was a sense of malaise and dread right under the surface, a paranoid sense something was wrong, but people couldn’t put their finger on what it was, just like the 90s. Also like the 90s, there a contradiction building between what you’re told and what you see around you. That unsustainable contradiction eventually exploded in the self-destruction and horror of World War I, which nobody in the Victorian Era anticipated and in fact, many thought was absolutely impossible.

In the 90s, we believed that everything could continue the way it is just now forever. The Cold War was over, racism was over, and everything seemed absolutely immutable. Nowadays, we scoff when Margaret Thatcher said of the liberal world older, “there is no alternative,” but it seemed a description of reality.

So, here was LeVar Burton writing a book about an atomic war (a thing we all thought couldn’t happen anymore) and a US civil war, and it sounded crazy. It was completely out of step with the currents of the time. This one probably went into the discount bin alongside TekWar Part 7, the George Takei memoir where he never mentioned being gay in 280 pages, or the unread Grace Lee Whitney book where she essentially accused Gene Roddenberry of sexual assault.

Aftermath really gives me a sense of who LeVar Burton is as a man, and he’s a far more interesting and strange person than he appears. I think, in his heart of hearts, he wants to be an intellectual provocateur who pushes buttons and asks hard questions, with a hint of black panther racial militancy and pride. He wants to be Slavoj Zizek mixed with Samuel L. Jackson. Which makes it all the funnier that he’s associated with the most family friendly entertainment imaginable and the cause of intellectualism and literacy – remember when he was everyone’s first choice to host Jeopardy! after Alex Trebek died? I bet during his book tour for Aftermath, where he read selections where cannibals eat black people in post-atomic America, there were little kids coming up to him for him to sign copies of the Hungry Little Catterpillar.

In other words, LeVar Burton wants to be edgy and freak out the squares, but he’s just too nerdy and beloved and fundamentally sunny inside to ever be seen as a provocateur and bad boy telling hard truths. I bet it drives him crazy, but it’s really, really funny to watch.

I mean, if you look at interviews with LeVar Burton or work he’s done, you can tell there’s this desire to be edgy. Like when he tells crowds “You don’t have to take my word for it…but I’d be pretty damn pissed if you didn’t!” Or how, when he appeared on Smosh, that he insisted on playing the villain. The best thing I can compare this to is how Disney teen idols sometimes go wild with g-strings and hypersexual lyrics so everyone can see they’re grown up….but imagine if some pop star tried this and the reaction was everyone going “nah, we don’t buy it.”

Would Aftermath be different if LeVar wrote it today? The ending was optimistic, and since so much of the book’s vision of division and societal collapse and racial strife came true, it is much, much harder to be optimistic than it was in 1997. But I think LeVar would still end the book the way he did, aspiring edgelord and all. Like I said, people don’t buy his edge because he’s just too positive deep down. As LeVar wrote in the new forward: “I believe the future is ultimately in our hands, and that science fiction literature can inspire us to change the future and avoid disaster.” 

[writersmorgue]

FIC IDEA! Katsuki asks Deku out with wording that to the reader is OBVIOUSLY romantic but just subtle enough that it is PLAUSIBLE for Deku to have misunderstood the situation. Katsuki immediately starts taking him on outings and being more physically affectionate and cooking for him all the time and Deku appears to reciprocate and at least half the class ALSO thinks they're dating. This goes on for at least a couple months.

Then, someone flirts with and touches Deku in some way that is obviously romantic (maybe tucking his hair or touching his face, maybe kissing his hand, maybe just straight up kissing him?) or even explicitly asks him out and gets a flustered "maybe" kind of response from Deku and Katsuki sees and is obviously very upset. He storms off and Deku follows him to find out what's wrong.

When he actually outright asks "hey, Kacchan, are you okay? What's wrong?" Katsuki is floored and responds "Are you gaslighting me or are really just this stupid? Even if you're poly or whatever, if you want to see multiple people you have to SAY that. You have to negotiate that shit, you can't just do whatever you want!"

And Deku is like "what??? are you talking about??? what multiple people??? I'm not dating anyone, it was just harmless flirting??? why are you acting like this??? do you want to be my boyfriend or something???"

And Katsuki is even more floored and upset and screams "I AM your fucking boyfriend! But maybe I shouldn't be!"

-

Shindo's fingers are soft on Izuku's chin, pulling his gaze up. His pupils are blown from something he and Sero had been passing around. The smell is acrid to his senses, but honestly, he's not sober enough to care.

He'd been surprised when Shindo had shown up to Mina's mixer, though he probably shouldn't be. He seems to be seeing the man everywhere these days.

He can't help but think of Kacchan, the way Yo looks at him. That heat in his eyes. Though Kacchan would never look at him quite like this, with this level of lust.

His cheeks burn with the thought, and he brushes Shindo's fingers off.

"Ah, the rumors are true? Thought maybe I'd have a chance, but it seems little murder lord actually grew some balls." He pouts, retreating his hands to his slack pockets.

Izuku frowns, brow pinching, "Kacchan- we're not like that."

"You're partners, everyone knows that."

"Hero partners," Izuku corrects, "He asked me when we graduated."

Shindo huffs, smirking, "He asked you to be hero partners, and nothing else?"

Izuku rolls his eyes, tapping his foot to the beat of the music more aggressively as frustration rises in his gut.

"He asked if we could be partners and if I wanted to find a place with him after graduation. We got a one-room because it was cheap, so naturally we're close by proximity." He grumbles, crossing his arms.

Shindo nods, but Izuku can sense the underlying doubt.

"Right, so you sleep in one bed, co-parent a cat, go to fancy restaurants alone on Valentine's Day, share an office at work, and travel everywhere together-" Shindo stares at him flatly, "-as friends."

"YES." Izuku throws his hands up, compelling the girl dancing next to him to slowly inch away, "Is that so hard to believe? Kacchan isn't interested in anyone, anyway. I think I'd have figured out something like that in the three years we've spent basically every day together."

Shindo rolls his eyes, "Deku, I think you underestimate how dense you can be. Your roomie trying to set me on fire with his eyes right now."

"We're not together. Kacchan is only focused on being a hero. We both are." Izuku grits, shoving his pointer finger into Shindo's stupidly buff chest.

"Are you sure?" Shindo raises an eyebrow, gaze flickering to the side,

"Yeah, so maybe leave it alone?!" Izuku gripes, jolting when Shindo suddenly grabs his hand and lifts it, slamming it back on the wall behind him.

"Then let's see what Kacchan has to say about me shoving my tongue down his Deku's throat, hm?" He purrs, leaning in closer.

Izuku's breath hitches, the sweat beading on his neck from the writhing bodies surrounding them suddenly ice cold, "Wh- who said anything about-"

Izuku barely has time to blink before Shindo's hand is ripped from his wrist, and he's thrown back into the beer pong table twelve feet away.

Kacchan barely spares Izuku a glance before he's lunging at the crumpled pro hero. His ears are practically steaming with all the rage emanating from his body

"Keep your slimy little hands off of my fucking boyfriend or I will explode your sad little dick and shove the remains down your damn throat, do you fucking understand?" He shouts, crouching down to pull Shindo up by his shirt collar.

Shindo barely flinches at the threat, opting instead to lean his head around Kacchan's hulking form and wink at Izuku, mouthing a smug little 'I told you so.'

Izuku doesn't even feel bad when Kacchan breaks his nose.

It's only on the way home from the party, when Kacchan rests his hand protectively on Izuku's thigh and apologizes for making a scene, that Izuku realizes how dumb he is.

[authorluvgxbby]

The Delinquent Next Door - Part 4: It’s A Date!

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: With your world turning upside down, you begin to slowly connect the dots of who your neighbor really is. It seems that no matter where you are or what situation you’re in, it all relates back to Hanma Shuji. Things are moving a bit too fast for you...so, how will you manage?

Pairing: Hanma Shuji x Neighbor! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence/violent behavior, slight trauma mentions/suggestions

A/N: *gasp* THANK YOU SO MUCH! 😭  Honestly, I was about to abandon the whole thing, but since I've been getting a lot of questions about it, I'll be posting the rest of it every week or so. This part was kinda short, so I apologize in advance. Enjoy!

Part 1      Part 2      Part 3     Part 4  

Two days have passed since your near death experience with Hanma. 

Guess you could basically check off almost being murdered off your bucket list.

What a wonderful world we live in. 

After the experience of the unsavory adventure, you began to contemplate the events of that night, while trying to piece together the…interesting background of your neighbor. 

His infamous reputation as the most feared gangster in Kabukicho was very odd, seeing as how a normal individual, such as yourself, wouldn’t have a clue about him, yet those small fry gangsters knew him like he was some historical figure out of a history book. 

I mean, since when do gangsters do homework on other gangsters? Maybe there’s some sort of class specifically for delinquents or something?

You shook your head. 

This is crazy.

To be honest, you had to give him some credit.  Despite the ridiculous and underlying comical nickname as a “Grim Reaper,'' you understood why people–delinquents–feared him so much.

That night when witnessing the fight between him and those thugs was something you certainly would never forget. Not because of the shock or the adrenaline pumping through your body due to the obvious danger that was present in the situation but because of the fact that Hanma, at the time, wasn’t the same person you met. Or, in your eyes, wasn’t just the average asshole next door neighbor that you had bumped into. 

That night, you saw a completely different side of him aside from his crude and playfully cocky behavior. 

He wasn’t the idiot you saw trying to bulldoze his door because he was lazy. No, he was a guy who would have beaten the crap out of anyone that looked at him wrong without hesitation and a really, really, really scary delinquent. 

Certainly someone you wouldn’t want to piss off. At least, not too much. 

Just gathering that much pretty much made it clear that Hanma wasn’t exactly normal.

As a matter of fact, it’s almost impossible to consider him ‘normal’ after witnessing how he basically took life as a joke with little to no care for his own safety and well-being. Which makes him ten times as weird as you thought he was.

What kind of neighbor knows how to beat the literal shit out of people? No–what kind of person takes pleasure in violence? 

None of which you or anyone else knew, that’s for sure.

Nonetheless it seems that everywhere you go, trouble follows behind you, and so does Hanma Shuji. 

I should move….and get out of the neighborhood while I’m still in one piece.

“Hey…”

But that wouldn’t really benefit me much. It was hard enough finding somewhere cheap to live.

“y/n!”

You snap out of your thoughts, turning your full attention towards your concerned best friend.

She frowns. “Are you alright? Are you still in shock from what happened?”

You blink owlishly, waiting for her words to process.

Oh right, she still feels guilty.

You glare at her, landing a gentle smack to her shoulder, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m fine! Quit beating yourself up already”

She frowns,“How can I not blame myself after you almost got hurt? All because of a stupid date!” she pouts, eyes watery as she takes your hand into her own, squeezing gently.

 “You’ve been so distant lately, and you’ve been on edge ever since that night,” she mumbles, once again squeezing your hand apologetically, “how can I not worry about you…” 

Ok, sure, it kinda was her fault. 

No, wait, scratch that–it definitely was her fault. But, hey, it could have been worse. If it weren’t for your crazy neighbor, you would’ve ended up in a body bag, yet here you are now, alive and breathing, and still working minimum wage at a run-down diner for a living.

“You say that as if I’m dead already,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes as you turn back to the register you were posted at, “and besides, as far as I’m concerned I’m still sucking air for the most part, so you shouldn’t be so worried. I’m fine.”

Bzzz!

Great timing universe!

Quickly fishing out your phone from your jeans pocket, you quickly glance at the new notification on your screen.

Jerk-Face Reaper: Meet me on the roof at 11 P.M.

Gee, my day was great, thanks for asking!

You: Why? 

He doesn’t respond, only having read the message as indicated underneath your text.

You huff, slightly gripping your phone as you curse him through the tiny device.

You: I’m not gonna come if you don’t tell me why. I have to study for exams tonight, so I don’t have time for you rn. 

“Who’s that? Is he a friend?” f/n asked, now leaning over your shoulder while scanning over your recent messages.

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” you sigh, placing your phone down on the counter.

She raises a brow. “Hmmm, why is he asking you out?”

Warmth creeps at the back of your neck. “He never said anything about a date!” you blurt out, clearing your throat as you set your phone down as you try to busy yourself at the empty register.

“Besides, we don’t know each other like that.”

She shrugs, “Maybe he wants to get to know you.”

Trust me, it’s the other way around. And not in the romantic perspective either.

“And what’s with the weird contact name? Something face reaper? Sounds like something straight out of a comic book.”

What is this? An interrogation?

Intentional or not, those were some damn good questions, none of which you wanted to answer. 

Bzzz!

You snatch your phone from the countertop, looking over to see your best friend caught up in a conversation with the cook.

Jerk-Face Reaper: Just come. 

You: …

You: You can reach me at my apartment, I’ll be studying. Goodbye :)

Jerk-Face Reaper: …

Jerk-Face Reaper: …Please?

You grinned.

You: Aww, such a sweetheart! I’ll take it. See you at 11!

“Aw, so it is a date!” f/n coos from behind you.

So she’s just spawning out of thin air now?!

“I-its not! I swear!” you groaned, hiding your face in your arms.

I hate it here.

[strqyr]

What are your thoughts on Neo's new power-up? Do you think it's a full on semblance evolution?

I'm not so sure it is. When we saw Ren's semblance evolve, it was because he came to some deep realization in his soul or whatever. I didn't get that vibe when we saw her in episode 3. She was pissed, sure, but she's been pissed for years at this point in the series. I'm not sure a full-fledged semblance evolution would come from the realization that she's now out for revenge against 2 people instead of 1.

I still think an evolution is the most likely answer, but I also wouldn't be surprised if the Ever After itself was reacting to Neo and her feelings the way it does with Ruby, and that this power-up wouldn't last if she were to return to Remnant. (Though whether she does go back is another question entirely lol)

well, we don't exactly know if there are any rules on how semblances can evolve, just that they can. considering that semblances have variety of ways to unlock, i don't see why that wouldn't be the case with evolution as well—to use ren as an example, his semblance unlocked from intense stress during a grimm attack, so i don't really see any reason why neo's semblance couldn't evolve when a) she's completely alone in an unknown place, and b) she's being approached by a creature that looks threatening.

so i wouldn't say neo's semblance evolved due to her revenge-seeking habits, but due to the threatening situation she was in and the underlying issue of being alone.

if her neo clones end up looking like people she has lost—roman and her parents, primarily—at some point, it would only highlight those underlying issues of being alone and never having dealt with her grief in a good, healthy manner; i mean, after her parents died she straight up went "trivia died with them, neo is the only survivor" and that was her grieving process basically done.

so, yeah. i'd say her semblance evolved, but to exactly what extent, that remains to be seen; her clones first followed her every movement on delay, then her orders with all but one in same pose (without any of them mimicking neo herself), so i'd be interested to see if they become their own beings, in a way, similarly to how neopolitan was to trivia before she was shattered.

[sweeterthanthis]

Your Filthy Heart

Part Three: The Pure and The Poison

Your Filthy Heart Masterlist

Thank you to @ozarkthedog for reading this through for me and to @msmarvelwrites for the support and some epic dirty talk suggestions!

Summary: It’s time to give Daddy a taste of his own medicine by bringing your boyfriend, Peter Parker, home for dinner.

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Peter Parker x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, daddy/stepdad kink, infidelity, vaginal sex, dirty talk, derogatory language, a touch of face slapping, cum play(?). 18+.

 Word Count: 3.5k

“I’m nervous, like really nervous. Is my tie straight?” 

There was a part of you that felt guilty for dragging Peter into your shit, truly. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying his affections. 

He was handsome, a strong jawline, kind eyes, a boy next door kinda attitude. Peter was everything that Bucky wasn’t, and maybe a little part of you made the conscious decision to start dating him because he was so different.

You knew you were pushing your luck, but when the thought occurred to invite him home for dinner, your mouth engaged before your brain and you’d already asked. 

“It’s just dinner, Pete. You didn’t need to wear a tie at all.” You couldn’t help but smile at him as he fixed his hair in the rear mirror, but the pit of dread in your stomach was only growing more by the second. “Come on, Mom’s probably bouncing up and down in anticipation.”

“Your Stepdad’s gonna be home soon right? Fuck, I wanna make a good impression.” 

Placing a hand on his thigh, muscular and firm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. He really was adorable, an underlying sexiness about him because he was so concerned with being the most decent guy he could be. And he didn’t deserve a single second of the torture you were about to put him through. 

Was that going to stop you? Absolutely not. 

You knew your mother would be too high on the buzz that you’d finally met a guy you’d deemed important enough to bring home for dinner. She wouldn’t notice the impending tension, of that you were sure. 

Stepping out of Peter’s car, your tummy flipping at the thought of Bucky coming home to find his spot in the garage taken, you readjusted your skirt and motioned at Peter to get out of the car with a roll of your eyes and a nod of your head. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He muttered, reaching for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought for your Mom in the back seat. 

Grabbing his hand, you tugged him towards the door connecting the house to your garage, you made your way to the kitchen -- the scent of pot roast, of course, filling the air and the sounds of gentle piano music playing softly in the background. 

Your Mom really had gone the whole hog to make a good impression, and you couldn’t blame her. She had no idea you were screwing her husband, feelings of possessiveness and bitterness growing with each passing day. 

She loved Peter. That much was very clear from the second she’d been introduced to him.  

You feigned interest as she sat across from him on the plush, cream sofa; asking him a thousand questions and not allowing him the airtime to answer a single one before she’d thought of another. 

But all you could think of was him. The look on his face when he saw Peter sitting next to you on the couch, the hand that was currently resting loosely on your knee, your Mother’s beaming smile as she informed him that we had a dinner guest. 

You revelled in the power you held — the power to drive him insane with jealousy. 

You zoned out as you helped your Mother set the table, the sound of her voice muffled in your ears when you heard the low rumble of a car engine pull up on the driveway; blood instantly pounding in your ears. 

“Oh, that’ll be James.” Your mother gushed, clasping her hands together and straightening out the cutlery on the way back to the kitchen. 

James. 

She always did like to abandon the nickname when she was trying to impress. You’d heard the name ring out in the night air on more than one occasion that week. And the thought made you sick. 

You held no claim over him. Not really. But that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in your belly each and every time. 

“Hey, you okay? You look as nervous as I feel.” 

Peters hand resting on your lower back, his soft eyes looking down on you with gentle concern, you forced yourself to smile and nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He can just be a little,” you paused, wringing your fingers together in front of you, “intense.” 

He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side to give your body a reassuring squeeze — guilt thumping through your veins as you cursed yourself for dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in. 

“Anyone wanna tell me who’s car is in my spot?” 

The sound of his voice, laced with irritation and curiosity, had your heart beating rapidly in your chest; the reality of what you’d done setting in as his footsteps drew nearer. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I’ll make a good impression, I promise.” 

Peter was too good for you, of that much you were certain. But you forced a smile anyway, leaning up on your tiptoes to meet his waiting kiss. 

At the worst possible moment. 

“What do we have here?” 

Exhaling a shaky breath, you composed yourself, opening your eyes to meet his fiery stare. There he stood in the living room doorway, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp, black button up. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the way the veins in his hands flexed. 

Before you could speak, Peter stepped forward; holding his own hand out for Bucky to shake. 

“Mr Barnes, Sir, I’m Peter Parker. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

All you could do was watch as Peter’s hand hung in the air, Bucky with his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels slightly. The tension was evident, yet only you and he knew why — the weight of your entanglement heavy in the air. 

“Finally, huh?” 

Bucky caught your anxiety-ridden stare over Peter’s shoulder, chewing on the inside of his cheek; brow furrowed as he blew out a heavy breath through his nostrils. 

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I didn’t realise we’d be having a guest for dinner.” Bucky stepped forward then, forcing a smile and shaking Peter’s hand firmly with one hand, and planting the other firmly on his shoulder. “Would’ve come home earlier, but then nobody tells me anything in this house.” 

The intent to agitate Bucky was clearly paying off, but you never anticipated the way it would make you feel — stomach churning and headache inducing. 

With Peter in the room and your Mother hovering in the next room, you knew you were safe. Yet the thought of what he might do later that night after your Mother had passed out from necking too much Chardonnay had your tummy fluttering. 

“C’mon, Pete.” Bucky threw a smirk in your direction, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchen. “Let’s go get a beer and leave the ladies to it, huh?”

Your mouth hung open in astonishment and your feet planted to the floor, all you could do was watch as your lover took your boyfriend aside for what you could only assume would be a desperately uncomfortable conversation. 

As you helped your Mother to prepare dinner, absentmindedly chopping tomatoes for the salad, you kept one eye on Bucky who was already sitting at the dining table across from a flustered Peter — and mentally kicked yourself for putting yourself in such a stressful situation. 

You tried not to look at him as you walked over to the table, salad bowl heavy in your trembling hands.

Walking around the back of his chair, you did your best to flash Peter a reassuring smile, his eyes flitting from yours to Bucky’s while he tried to keep his attention on the conversation. 

As you leant over to put the salad bowl on the table, a discreet, firm squeeze to your ass made you jump; his fingers digging into your flesh in not so subtle warning. 

“Oh!”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, shooting a concerned look in your direction. 

Breathing a short sigh of relief when his hand withdrew, you straightened yourself out and walked around to your Boyfriends seat; blood hot with frustration at the way Bucky had put his hands on you in such a fragile situation. 

Suddenly, you simply didn’t give a fuck. 

How dare he try to lay a claim on you after everything you’d had to deal with; having to watch every day while he played at happy marriages with your mother. 

“I’m fine, Babe.” You leant down then, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek and shooting Bucky a warning stare. “I’m gonna go wash up for dinner, okay? Be right back.” 

Your anxiety was slowly morphing into vitriol, your hips swaying as you marched past your Stepfather’s unamused gaze. 

Fuck him. 

You washed your hands in the bathroom, gearing yourself up for what was sure to be a very awkward dinner — checking your makeup in the mirror, and fixing your hair. 

He’d riled you up, and now you had a point to prove. And you had every intention of doing so, one way or another. 

Making your way out of the bathroom, you straightened out your pleated skirt - the one you knew drove Bucky crazy - walking down the hallway with a confidence that you’d seemingly plucked out of nowhere. 

“What the-” 

One strong arm wrapped around your midsection, pulling your back tight against a broad chest -- and you needed no clue as to whom it belonged to. 

He yanked you through the door to the garage, shoving you forwards a little as the door clicked shut and the lock twisted. 

Everything inside you told you to give him a piece of your mind, spinning on your heel, your cheeks hot with disbelief. 

But as he stepped towards you, his eyes trained on your shaking form, you felt warmth flood your groin and you were putty once again. You hated how easily he reduced you to a desperate mess of a girl. Truly, you did. 

The fact remained, your Boyfriend was the other side of the wall and your Mother was floating around the house fussing like a woman possessed. 

“How dare—”

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat in warning, wedding ring digging against the supple flesh of your neck - the fire in his beautiful eyes causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

Shoved up against the passenger side of Peter’s car, you lifted your chin in defiance, a slight smirk gracing your glossy lips as you soaked in his fury. 

“You tryna piss Daddy off, Princess? ‘Cause you’re doin’ a real good job.” 

Your fingers dragged up your bare thighs, lifting your skirt up higher, his thigh pressed firmly against your lace covered cunt. 

“What’sa matter, Daddy? You jealous?” The low growl that emitted from his throat made you shudder, his breath warming your face as he tilted your chin up roughly with his fingers. “You not enjoying getting a taste of your own medicine, Daddy? Is that it?”

“You fuck that kid? Huh?” The hand around your throat squeezed, thumb pushing against your pulse point, his lips inches from yours. “You better answer me or I swear to fuckin’ God, girl...”

One hand palming at the throbbing erection in his trousers, the other gripping his own as it shook against your throat, you smiled. And he looked like he wanted to fucking murder you. 

“So what if I did? Seems fair to me. At least you don’t have to listen to me screaming his name. And Daddy, he makes me scream.” 

You ignored the fear bubbling in your chest, your bratty mouth unable to stop itself from running merry hell. 

“He’s so big, Daddy. Stretches me out so good.” Bucky pulled you towards him then, teeth clenched and jaw ticking, on the edge of losing every bit of control. And you just couldn’t help yourself. “You should see it.”

The dark chuckle that fell from his lips held no humor, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek and his head cocked to the side. 

“Is that what this is, Princess? Fuck, that jealousy’s just eatin’ you up, huh? Poor baby…” 

Your confidence waned for a moment, whimpering pathetically as his thumb traced your trembling jaw. You couldn’t stop yourself, hips winding down against his thick thigh, a twinkle in his eye as he watched you with a faux pout etched on his lips. 

“If you weren’t so fuckin’ cute, it’d be pathetic. Lookit you; grindin’ down on Daddy’s leg like a bitch in heat. What would Peter say, hmm?”  

Shame swam deep in your gut, but it was nothing compared to the warmth spreading between your legs, the damp patch on your panties staining the material of his suit pants.

“Daddy—” 

His fingers nestled between your lips, pressing down on your tongue as they slid down your throat - gag reflex kicking in when the tips of his fingers found your tonsils. 

“Suck.” 

You did as he asked, eyes boring into his as he thrust his fingers back and forth between your lips, garbled moans vibrating in your throat, spit coating the platinum band on his ring finger. 

“Why do I always gotta remind you who you belong to, huh?” You couldn’t answer, mouth stuffed full, tears pooling in your eyes, and spittle dripping from the corners of your mouth. “You think I was just gonna make nice with your little boyfriend in there? Bet he doesn’t know what a dirty little cockslut you really are does he?” 

A sharp tap to your cheek, spit slick against your skin, had you quivering. Yet your hands found the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly and yanking him down towards you. Your lips crashed against his then, a satisfied grunt vibrating against your mouth, one hand gripping your ass while the other dove between your legs. 

Bucky held you tight against his chest, fingers dipping beneath the gusset of your panties and swiping through your sloppy folds as he walked you clumsily round to the hood of Peter’s car - lifting you effortlessly and setting you down, cool metal causing you to shudder from the chill. 

You watched as he yanked your panties down your legs, your heart pounding at the thought of your Mother and your Boyfriend next door, waiting for you to return.

“I can’t trust you to be a good girl, can I? Can’t trust you to keep those fuckin’ legs shut.” 

“Daddy, I-” 

“You’re gonna shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it, you got that Princess?” 

Before you could open your mouth to answer, he’d balled your damp panties in his fist and forced them between your lips — teeth clenching down onto the salty-sweet lace. 

It was humiliating, degrading; but when was it not? You craved it, the way he treated you. That feeling of being owned, completely surrendering yourself to another person. He made you need that.  

“Look at that, always so wet for Daddy.” 

His palms splayed out against the flesh of your thighs, he pushed them apart, spreading you open and putting you on display just for him. 

Your heart was racing, the thrill of being caught at any moment thumping adrenaline through your veins. He could sense it, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk as he watched your eyes flit frantically back and forth between him and the door. 

“D’you have any idea how much I wanna drag you back in there and fuck you on that table. Make them both watch, show them that you’re mine?”

Your moans muffled by the material stuffed between your teeth, two thick fingers stretching out your cunt as he unbuckled his pants — you shook your head. 

You knew you had an effect on him, you knew he couldn’t stop himself from touching you, from creeping into your room late at night. But the way he looked at you now, the burning intensity in his eyes; it shook you to your core. 

“If I had the time Princess, I’d eat that slutty little pussy right here. Make you gush all over Petey Boy’s car. He make you come as hard as Daddy does?” 

Frantically, you shook your head from side to side. Peter had never even so much as grabbed your ass, but you’d riled Bucky up to the point of insanity. A man on a mission to prove just who you belonged to. 

“No? You've sure changed your tune.” 

You watched as he pumped his thick cock in his palm, the tip of him nudging against your clit, your pussy twitching. 

“Daddy’s gonna fuck the attitude right outta you, so stay quiet and keep those legs open for me.” 

Your arms hooked beneath your knees, thighs spread wide, you barely had time to brace yourself before his cock split you open inch by inch. 

You’d expected him to rut into you with excruciating force, to take you roughly. So when he thrust into you with slow, patient strokes; you could do nothing to hide the curiosity on your face. 

“I know you know who fucks you the best. You just love riling Daddy up, don’t you? Get so - fuck - goddamn jealous of Mommy.” 

Your head lulled back as his dick dragged against the throbbing walls of your cunt, his thumb finding your clit while he caressed your breasts with his free hand. 

It was too much, too much tenderness, too good. 

You hated yourself for wanting it. The new sensation of his knuckles softly grazing the hollow of your throat as he undulated his hips against your pelvis, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. 

“You know what you do to me, Baby? Look at me.” 

Baby. 

Bucky leant forward then, elbows either side of your head on the hood, balls deep inside you as he ground his hips into yours at a torturously slow pace. 

“I got you all spread open wide for me, and my fuckin’ wife is right next door. She could walk in here right now and fuck, I still wouldn’t stop. You know how fucked up that is?” 

It was nonsense, the broken words falling from your panty stuffed mouth, heat rising in your belly when he pulled out completely and slid on home once again. 

He fit you perfectly; there was no doubt about it. The way your cunt wrapped around his dick, it was fucking sinful how perfect it felt. Sparks of pleasure shooting through your core as he rubbed tiny, delicate circles over your swollen clit. 

“Tell me how much you want me.” Bucky ripped the panties from your mouth, shoving them in his pocket as you licked your dried out lips. “Need’ta hear you say it. Come on, Princess.” 

You’d never seen it before, the needy side of him, the way he practically whimpered when your pussy clenched around his girth, his hand gently squeezing your thigh while the other tentatively worked your sensitive nub. 

You tried to speak, tried to find the words he so desperately needed to hear — mouth hanging open in sheer confusion. 

“You’re not coming until you tell me, and we’ve been gone a while…” 

He halted inside you, only the tip of him nestled between your pussy lips, thumb hovering over your clit and a soft, yet entirely serious look gracing his gorgeous face. 

“I—I want you, Daddy.” You yielded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the yelp as he slammed back into you in one brutal motion — slowly withdrawing and circling your clit with the tip of his dick. 

“Again.”

“I want you, Daddy.” Insistent this time, no tremble in your voice, hips winding down towards his length, eager to have him back where he belonged. “Only want you, Daddy.” 

There was no hint of a lie in your tone, and as he fucked you - possessive and hungry - you wondered how any other man could ever match him. 

Sprawled out on the hood of Peter’s car, legs hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, you begged and panted; nearing closer and closer to sweet release. 

“You do, don’t you? You belong to me, Princess. Daddy’s all the man - shit - you need.” 

Garbled words choked in your throat, the breath punched from your lungs when he pinched your clit roughly with his fingertips, stars dancing behind your eyelids as pleasure twisted in your abdomen, limbs shaking and numb. 

Pathetic whispers of daddy, daddy, daddy had him slamming into you, unforgiving and merciless while he chased his own orgasm. 

“Fuck lookit you, fallin’ apart on poor Parker’s car, cunt full’a Daddy. Wanna fill you up so bad Princess, but I’ve got a better idea.”

You felt the hollow emptiness of his withdrawal, hazy eyes flickering open to catch sight of him; teeth bared, fist furiously pumping his cock, white, hot spurts of come smattering against the already sopping flesh of your swollen, fucked-out pussy lips. 

“Bucky! Darling, where are you?”

You panicked, hopping down off the hood and scrambling to push your skirt back down your aching thighs. 

“Fuck, gimme my underwear.” You hissed, holding out your hand as you bounced on your heels. 

“Nuh uh, Princess. You’re gonna sit there all night next to Peter, who seems like a real nice kid by the way, with my come all over you. Be real hard to forget who’s little cockwhore you are then, won’t it?”

You watched, dumb struck as he casually tucked himself back into his pants, swiping the wine bottle from the counter and making his way to the door. 

“Hurry now, we’ve kept our guest waiting long enough don’t you think?” 

With a wink and a sardonic smirk, Bucky disappeared through the door, your Mom’s soft laughter ringing in your ears through the wood. 

Dinner was surprisingly a lot less awkward than you expected, aside from the jabs from Bucky thrown in your direction every now and again. But you’d much rather he targeted you than Peter. 

Sitting with Bucky’s come smothered between your thighs made the guilt in your gut throb every time Peter’s soft fingers found the bare flesh of your knee beneath the table. 

No matter how much water you chugged, your mouth was dry throughout, your instincts driving you to get through the meal without choking and needing to excuse yourself.

As the evening drew to a close, your Mother tipsy and insisting that Peter come back to visit again the following week, you couldn’t wait to get him out of there and wipe away the mess from between your legs. 

“Parker, you ever play golf?” Bucky asked as Peter pulled on his jacket. 

You couldn’t believe the audacity of him, shame and fury eating at you as he played the perfect, welcoming parent.

“Uh, a little from time to time.” He answered, looking down at you with a proud smile as he sensed an invitation coming. It killed you, the sweetness on his features. You didn’t deserve an ounce of it. 

“I’ll get your address from our girl, huh? Pick you up Saturday, say, just after lunch?” 

Our girl. 

It made you cringe, chewing on your bottom lip as you took hold of Peter’s hand and led him to the garage where you’d been full of your Stepdad’s cock just an hour earlier. 

“Yes, that’d be great Mr Barnes. Thank you!” 

“Please, call me Bucky.” 

You couldn’t stand it any longer, making your way to the garage while Peter trailed behind you saying his goodbye’s.

He kissed you softly, and it made you want to weep—the way his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs stroking against the corners of your mouth. When he pulled away, the look of adoration on his face had your heart skipping a beat. 

This was what you needed.

This relationship was healthy. Safe. Right. 

So why did it feel so wrong? 

What you had with Bucky could never go anywhere, would never progress to more than secretive fucks and risky situations. 

“Your Stepdad seems like a decent guy, but he’s really hard on you huh?” 

“You have no idea.” 

[allthebleus]

Why didn't Woong say he loved Yeonsu, even once (as she suggests) throughout their relationship?

The part of Our Beloved Summer fandom that keeps repeating and expressing disappointment at Woong's inability to verbally support Yeonsu is funny and lighthearted only to an extent. Just like a lot of people missed Yeonsu's side in the first half, I feel like people might miss his in the second because we focus much more on the emotional turmoil than the underlying factors contributing to it.

As maddening as it is that Woong did not say, 'I love you", perhaps through the course of their rs in the way Yeonsu wanted to hear. And as frustrating as it is that he several times missed the cue to reassure her by giving her verbal confirmation, a lot of us need to understand that it is not, like Yeonsu brushes it off superficially, caused by his obliviousness. He might have been ignorant to how much of an impact withholding that had, but I have a feeling that there is much more to it than just him not realizing.

Woong resists being vulnerable, he doesn't let people watch him work. He doesn't react to anything harsh in the way other people do. He takes a passive, less confrontational course of action. The only time he has been confrontational is when he got mad at Yeonsu, and even then, he is never able to say things as he wants to. An example being that as desperately as he wants her to stay with him, like when she went to his room during the trip, he never manages to say it. Would Yeonsu have stayed had he asked? We don't know, maybe she would have panicked. But Yeonsu is never given the choice, Woong reaches out, he is awake, he silently begs her to stay. To be able to hold on. But he doesn't express it in a way that she can be sure.

Often verbal confirmation brings vulnerability, you must put the guard of playful annoyance, or nonchalance, or lightheartedness down. You have to look a person in the eye and remind them, that you see them, and for you to do that, you must admit the power that they hold over you to yourself. I think Woong's character has a hard time being vulnerable in that sense, which is why he brushes off anything that may suggest that the other person can affect him as severely as people around him might think.

(They also revisit this detail in the flashbacks of Woong running away, as a kid, when asked to 'talk' about his family. Woong chooses to hide and flee the situation. A few people pointed out it was going to be an interesting backstory, and I think they're right. I also think that that links again, to his inability to verbally express things that might make him vulnerable.)

This is very important, because this why Woong's character is more than just a fool in love.

The only person Woong expresses more than just his obvious annoyance to, is Yeonsu. The scene during their relationship, when Woong says, "You are not allowed to leave me," is a moment of vulnerability. He is telling Yeonsu that her absence will leave a deep mark on him, one he might not be able to bear. In the scene of her confession, he is having a hard time looking at her when he says, 'No, I don't know, so remind me over and over.'

In both the scenes, Woong has a hard time looking right at her and expressing it openly that he likes her, loves her even, and cannot handle her leaving him. He refuses to openly express how much he loves her, because he is afraid perhaps, that if he gives it his all and is abandoned, he will not be able to continue living life the way he had been.

"Being lonely from the start is okay, being lonely once you've been with someone. I don't want to experience that ever again."

Yeonsu was not the only person who put a lot on the line when it came to their relationship, so was he. But he also held a lot back. His struggle to control himself, and keep himself passive around her is proven every time he says something that exposes directly how much pain he's been through. "That's not the only thing you ruined", " The one who always ruins me, is you", "I'm so sick of this" etc etc. are all situations where Woong's walls have crumbled and he's openly admitting hurt and pain. And almost immediately, he recoils back and scolds himself for saying anything that may have shown him as a "fool". This is very interesting, because like Yeonsu had her reasons for being the one to call things off, Woong might not have wanted to continue their rs like that either.

During their breakup scene, Yeonsu is barely holding herself together. Woong asks her whether he's the one thing she can throw away so easily, Yeonsu answers that he's the only thing. To Woong, her words mean he is the only disposable thing. To her, they mean he's all she has.

In the entire scene sequence, he keeps asking her questions as she walks away. He's hurt. But he doesn't try to ask her to stay, because what would he do if she still walked away? How much would that hurt? How could offer his heart to her like this, only for her to abandon him?

Yeonsu isn't the only one who had pride.

This repeats itself every time Woong confronts her, or wants her to stay. The parallels of them learning to put their walls down by confrontation are very interesting. Because yesterday's episode shows Yeonsu doing what Woong has already done. She confronts him about his inability to tell her to stay, that he loves her, and that he wants her still. Woong did the same in the episode where he waited before her house, he was in overwhelming pain when he asked her why they could not ask each other how they've been, or how its been for them.

He puts down his walls and asks a question, one that requires them to sit and talk. He is admittedly putting himself out there, and funnily, Yeonsu runs away. Yeonsu is not prepared to face him, not then, nor is she ready to listen to him or tell him how she has felt and been. And this is proven when she stays while he is half unconscious, despite the fact that his confession to having a very painful time after she left hurts her.

All of this puts the breakup in new perspective, and both the actors are phenomenal at their jobs that just their body languages alone convey all this without words. As Yeonsu is walking away, Woong looks hurt but resigned, as if he has known that this was coming. As if he no longer has the energy to fight for them, as if the relationship took as much toll on him as it did on her. He knows they don't work, and his downward spiral may be caused by the push of their breakup, but it is never the sole cause.

So, all the people who dislike episode 9. Just a reminder that relationships are never isolated experiences, and that when breakups like these happen, there is a much bigger picture than merely the factors that contributed to it directly. Those issues need to be addressed independent of the relationships first, before reconciliation can happen. And that's why Woong did not say he loved her still, and wanted to date her still despite everything. Because if the writer played into the hands of a quick happy ending, it would not be realistic and they wouldn't work, and we'd be back to square one.

It's very important that we, as the audience, acknowledge these little things for more than surface value. Because otherwise the conclusion and confrontations will not make sense. And I'd hate to see this show end with people hating on it just because it did not end or conclude in the way they wanted it to.

[somemydayy]

Human Desires

Warning: Stalker au! mention of accident, murder and loss of significant other at the hands, of stalker izaya

Izaya’s hobbies was manipulating and messing with people for his own entertainment. A skilled underground information broker, settled amidst the sleepless city streets of Tokyo, Japan.

The broker, had a infinity for attracting broken or lost individuals. Like many that encountered and sought out Izaya, you also had a strained relationship with your peers, and family. But unlike the many that he coherent into a pact with false narratives and manipulation you seemed unfazed, almost immune to his ploy in extorting your current situation. He was surprised when the topic never came up. But by now it had been years, and you stated no interest in such dealings.

You lived a mediocre life yet you wished to live, honestly and it baffled Izaya to no end. You just wanted someone to talk to, and Izaya fit the bill. You regularly chatted with him online, about your day. You started telling him all about your life that brought about the notion of seeking out someone trustworthy to confide in. And your luck ran out when you believed Izaya was someone you could put your total trust in.

All your dirty little secrets, he knew them by heart. How you came from a wealthy family. How your father was estranged with the Awakuzas dispute being a powerful figure head in the political scene. How you ran away from home at the age of sixteen because there was talks of a arranged marriage. How you got far as Saitama before you were dragged back home by your father’s henchmen. How you got estranged in a color gang war, by just being at the wrong time and place. How you were kidnapped in your final year of high school by human traffickers, and were saved by kyohei and the van gang. But most importantly how, your boyfriend was involved with illegal dealings that subsequently left him comatose, at Raira general hospital.

How despite living a very sad, pathetic and miserable life you seemed content just to see the sun rise. How you were just content to live another day, and honestly; your positive go lucky attitude set off something within the information broker. But as such luck would give, it soon was lost when he found out you were out in ikebukuro cozying up to that monster, shizuo.

And this just want’s except-able , this was just something Izaya wasn’t gonna let slide, oh no; it was far from alright. So he decided he was going to pay you a visit, regardless if you liked it or not.

— — — — —

The only source of light came from the shallow lights bouncing off the street lamps. The atmosphere was chill. He was crossing the street, stalking toward you. The tips of your ears flushed a bright red, and your chest caved with a slight tug. You chewed on his lower lip in anticipation and your body froze under his predator gaze.

“Sir— I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

“Ahh that’s to bad, I was really looking forward to trying some of that delicious coffee you make, (Y/n)-chan.”

“Oh sorr— wait do I know you?”

“If I recall correctly this is our first time meeting.”

“Then, how do you know my name?”

“I have my ways.”

“So tell me darling (Y/n)-chan, how’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“Wha— who exactly are you?!”

“Aww why so surprised, sweetheart?”

The atmosphere was rigid. You stilled your sights upon him, who was towering over you. The words that were so heavily engraved in his mind overflow with curiosity and suspense slipped off of his lips, out onto the world.

“On your way to the hospital (Y/n)-chan? Why do you even bother? You know, he’s as good as dead.”

A underlying uneasiness settle in the atmosphere, and the deafening beating of your heart drove that sensation into hysterics. A wide grin which was cast across his face, exhibited his amusement. His eyebrows scrunched up together, and his eyes held a predator gaze.

“I made sure of it.” He says in a taunting tone, as his lips quirk up into a sickly smile.

As he spoke all you could hear was the pitter patter of the rain, against the window. He held a crimson soaked blade within his grasp. As he walked closer to you, he clasped down on the bloody blade; and began sliding it against your cheek. Ready to strike down his prey at any time. His teeth lingered on his bottom lip, chewing in anticipation with the thrill of a mad man.

He leaned against the doorframe, and tilted his head to the side, and nestled his bloody blade harshly against your cheek before trailing it down your exposed neck.

Izaya soon caught a glimpse of your now tear stained cheeks, the crimson dust against your ears, the trembling of your fingers and knees. You was absolutely terrified of him, and izaya was living for every minute of it.

“What, don’t tell me your unhappy about it?” He gives you a sad look for a second, before returning back to his almost inhuman behavior.

“Tell me something, exactly how long was the poor bastard gonna last sick in that hospital bed? A day? A week? Maybe a month if he was, lucky.” A maddening grin stretched across his lips, and then he let out a taunting laugh.

“And you? Tell me something, just how long were you going to wait by his bedside? Like the good obedient girlfriend you are— were? Where you going to nurse the poor bastard back to health? And for what? For him to drag you into his dirty dealings or worse, for you to end up dead in a ditch? You see, my sweet (Y/n)-chan. I just couldn’t have that slimy bastard continue to taint your innocence. I couldn’t ever, no— never, in a million years let that happen.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt all the color drain from your face. Your fingertips trembled in horror at the sight before you. Paralyzed in fear, the only thing you could do was stare back at his staggering gaze in pure terror.

“Why— are you doing this?!” The only thing you could focus on now, was the craze look in his eyes, and the way his lips twisted into a maddening grin before uttering a blood curling laugh.

“I simply love humans, and you my sweet (Y/n)-chan, you’re my absolute favorite.”

“Wha— what your saying makes absolutely, no sense whatsoever! You— your absolutely insane!”

“I suppose that’s true, but who really cares.”

Because this time around the target of Izaya’s sinister obsession is, you. And he won’t stop at nothing until he has you for himself, even if that means exploiting, betraying, torturing and eventually driving you to hysteria. Izaya doesn’t care in the slightest, because nothing else matters now that he has you. And that’s all that really matters.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

© Somemydayy 2022 | Please do not copy or alter this writing on Tumblr or any other platform.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

This is somewhat of a continuation of a previous work, please enjoy :)

Part 1: I simply love humans

Part 2: Human Desires

Part 3: Strange Addiction

Part 4: Game of Cat and Mouse

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[polyghostfacehours]

IIIIIII'm back baby. First fic I posted here in a looong while. This bad boy is originally a B-Day fic for @bisexual-horror-fan but I edited it to be gender neutral and Reader insert friendly! She gave me her permission to post. So enjoy you Danny fuckers. This is a long one.

TW: NSFW. Dark!Reader. Dark themes. Reader is twisted in this and goes through it lol.

---

Creed Aventus - Danny Johnson x GN!afab!Reader

---

“I do.”

Those words fell from your lips as easily as breathing air was.

In sickness and in health would you be with Jed, and when his large hand wraps around yours as you cut the the lavish wedding cake together, your eyes meet and you both smile.

The night of your honeymoon was one you’d never forget.

He encased you completely in his warmth. He is the Sun, and you’re the Earth; He your God, and you his Apostle. With each drag of his lips down your chest he hums, lightly frenching the soft skin as he goes. When he gets to your navel, he looks up, your eyes meeting his icy blue ones in a mirror of the cake cutting ceremony, and your breath catches. You feel like you’re stuck in limbo in his eyes. They were just as hypnotic as the day you met, and in that moment, you were sure they’d never become glass shards.

“Jed. I-I love you.” You breath out as he begins to remove you underwear. He smiles at this.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

His voice is steady when he says this, so you believe him. Your wedding night was one you’d thought for sure would be branded within your mind’s eye forever but looking back on now, you could’ve laughed. That wasn’t Danny. That was Jed. And you find yourself hating Jed now. Especially when Danny was here to break you so deliciously.

You fingers quicken their pace on your clit as you continue reading the entry, and you groan. Lacerations all along her sides, flesh carved out and left in chunks beside the body. Her name was Mary, and she was beautiful. You remember seeing her on the news. Remembered feigning sadness and disgust when in reality, you almost came at the thought of how her ruby lips would look separated from her body. Danny – no, Jed – had been there too, echoing your grief and you clench around nothing when you realize it had been a farce on his part too.

“Knock knock.” Danny’s voice is loud against the silence of the room, and your eyes turn to see your beau in his leather garbs, the ghostly white mask gripped in his palms around the neck of it, and flashes of his hands around yours instead had you biting your lips.

Boots echo in the room, and when Danny reaches the foot of the bed he smirks.

“Starting the party without me? Naughty, naughty.”

You smile.

“Couldn’t resist. This –“ You raise the stained notebook with a gesture, “- and by extension, you – have ruined me.”

“Good.” The way he breathed that out was strained, and you could tell he was already getting aroused at the situation. The smell of iron wafted towards you, notes of Creed Aventus underlying it, as Danny begins his slow crawl across the bed to you. His notebook finds it’s place next to you your favorite page visible, and your mind briefly drifts to the end of your marriage with Jed Olsen and the beginning of the one with Danny Johnson.

Your marriage, in the beginning, was electric. You and Jed got along swimmingly. You had similar interests, were deeply attracted to one another, and - whenever work schedules would line up – you went on trips together. It was nice. Just like Jed. Nice and loving and bringing you that stale sort of joy much in the way a beloved old toy would.

Many a night would you two make love, his cock pounding deeper and deeper into you until he had you shaking in ecstasy and begging for mercy, mercy that you never got as he chuckled and continued fucking you into overstimulation, making sure his pelvis hit your clit with each thrust. The sex was great, always. That was never a problem. You both were satiated in that department.

No, what was missing was something more twisted. Something you never knew you desired. Something he thought he’d never have. A festering, gnawing feeling settled into the walls of your apartment, gripping you both.

You felt it as you chopped carrots for dinner, Jed by your side, casually leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee, his eyes boring into the knife gripped your hands.

You felt it as you wrapped your soft cotton blanket around you during your leisure time after work, body sinking further and further into couch as headshot stills plagued the news, and raw imaginings of their bodies strewn across their own couches making the cloth feel scratchy against your skin.

You felt it as Jed’s tongue wound tight circles around your clit, his fingers languidly pumping into you clean and coming out red. His eyes would find yours before looking at the blood on his fingers and sucking with no hesitation, making you wish there was more of it to go around.

Jed was open with his feelings. Whenever any sort of issue would arise between you two, he would deal with it beautifully. Open communication, soft and tender kisses to make up, and apologies happened easily. He was perfect in conflict, dealing with it with such perfectly curated responses that it seemed he wrote the book on how to do so. It was sexy to you, if you’re being honest. But it felt off. And you were never able to pinpoint why.

You believed your darker fantasies would always stay so. You were an ardent believer in bringing whatever it was you or he wished into he bedroom. And Jed agreed with the sentiment. Yet there were unspoken desires that you knew were too taboo to speak about. It was far beyond the realm of BDSM or other extreme forms of sexual gratification that you were sure Jed would be willing to try.

It disgusted you. Not what you wanted, but rather that you wanted it in the first place. The desire to watch someone become mincemeat wasn’t exactly kink worthy in the traditional sense. It was taboo in the worst kind of way, a way that had your legs shaking in pleasure as your stomach churned with shame as you imagined how your most hated enemy would look with a few less ribs in the way of their heart.

How could you tell Jed? How could you possibly open Pandora’s Box in front of him, full of all the world’s wickedness in the form of your hedonistic desire and expect him to not pack his bags immediately in fear that you might act. And unfortunately, telling him that it wasn’t that you wanted to inflict pain on someone yourself per se, but that you just wanted to see blood and maybe a little sinew from time to time as he choked you with his length, probably wouldn’t do anything to assuage his disgust.

So silently you tread on, your marriage perfectly imperfect, in that saccharine way that you convinced yourself was for the best. After all, it was what was on TV. And, more importantly, it was just spicy enough to not be normal.

Jed’s end came not from your hands, but his. He had been careless when he left, although Danny usually reminded him not to be. But perhaps Danny was occupied with what he had planned next week for his latest friend, because neither of them had made sure to lock up the wooden box hidden in the barely used guest room before he left for work that morning.

And in treaded you. The intent to tidy up the unused room out of boredom led you to scouring around the unpacked boxes and desk there, determined to finally clean it out and surprise Jed. You knew he always wanted a study, a quiet place to type away and concentrate on finishing articles approaching their nigh unrealistic deadline. He had said that he really wanted to do it with you, but you figured him coming home to a nice surprise would delight him.

‘After all.’ You think to yourself as you lift out a rather peculiar looking wooden box from under someone cardboard ones in the far corner. ‘Acts of Service keep a marriage alive. Love keeps things alive.’

When you open the plain, inconspicuous covering of it absentmindedly nothing catches your eye. It was paper, documents most likely from Jed’s job, and some yellowed with time. But you card through them anyway, the off chance something important like a birth certificate or tax statement compelling you to do so, and it’s then when something finally does catch your eye.

Worn leather, musky in scent. A brown cord neatly wrapped around a journal, binding it together. It looked well-used, if the slightly frayed edges of the pages were anything to go off of, but not neglected. Slender fingers creep towards no man’s land as you open to the first page.

You know what they say.

Curiosity killed the cat.

And it killed Mia Carpenter too. She was 17 and a babysitter. Loved by her parents, loved by everyone. But not loved by whoever wrote this entry. She was gutted like a fish, intestines barely visible under the blood that coated her abdomen. Terror was etched permanently on her face, a sculptor’s chisel working the fear onto it, and your stomach drops because you couldn’t look away.

It was simultaneously horrifying and stunning. Comedy and tragedy mixed into one young girl who probably had a lot more to live for than just taking care of snot-nosed brats for the rest of her days. Your eyes finally drift from the photo to the words on the page that it was paperclipped to.

Neat writing fills the pages – ‘No, it’s not his. It’s not!’ – neat cursive headlining the entry, and stiff lettering forming the body of the page. The words were almost nonsensical – ‘He doesn’t dot his I’s like that. He doesn’t dot his I’s like that he does-‘ rambling about this and that detail about the girl. She screamed like a banshee. She begged a lot too. She was forced to admit to bullying some other girl to the point of suicide.

Oh.

That doesn’t justify whoever – ‘Not Jed not Jed not Jed’– did this to her, but at least she wasn’t a completely harmless person. No, you think she was kind of evil actually. This bully victim…Mia had her come to the women’s restroom, where some of the male seniors had gathered and-

You turn the page. You can’t even stomach to look at this monster anymore. You wish she got worse.

If someone had asked you what your current deadly sin was, you wouldn’t have been able to answer. You devour entry after entry gluttonously, wrath overtaking your emotions one second, and lust taking over another. For some, you felt envious that you hadn’t been able to give them their just desserts yourself. The cacophony of conflicting thoughts reverberated in your skull painfully, almost pushing you to nausea. You decide to ignore the feeling and focus on more details in the entries.

Some had scratched out sentences for one reason or another, others had some dubious stains on them. Certain entries - the particularly grisly ones, you noted – were dog-eared. Those that you had guessed were a particularly eye-catching or intriguing victim had much longer articles, logs of their day going on for more than a page sometimes. It was morbidly fascinating, reading these peoples lives and then seeing them at the end of it. You only release your bottom lip from your teeth when you notice it was there in the first place, the metallic taste finding itself onto your tongue, and for a split second you feel like you can taste the victims. Heat blooms within you as the thought passes by and you find yourself hating yourself for this. For having your hands down your pants as you read page after page of someone being slaughtered after committing some rather heinous acts themselves.

You turn the page one more time and your breath hitches along with your fingers.

The border between stark reality and your desire for fantasy was becoming thinner and thinner with each word that slid across your vision. The strange stains in the journal were now indistinguishable from the sweat on your fingertips as you trace the neatly penned letters describing the latest entry – a man whose life had assuredly come to one of the more grisly ends.

Roger Malone. Aged 39. Convicted pedophile and found with his intestines around his neck and forced avulsion on his hands. A bloody trail leading to a cabinet containing pure evil and evidence of his crime was also found.

Disgust pits in your stomach, but not from the documented evisceration. But rather, it was at the giddiness that branched out from your stomach and found its way to your mouth via a hardly contained toothy grin. This man got what he deserved. Far more than the rather steadfast lawyer from the previous page at least. More than even Mia did.

You finger the page gently, your breath tasting like gasoline as it expels past your lips. But as you’re about to read more of Jed’s, or at least someone Jed knew, exploits you shake as the deep smooth voice of your husband booms out behind you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Icy cold fingers gripped your heart as you slowly turn your head. Jed’s expression was nigh unreadable to the average person, but your years with him as his beloved fiancé and now spouse told you a different story. His eyes held barely contained rage, and you notice how his fingers twitched. The twine holding together your relationship was being pulled and prodded by the devil himself, and for a second you wonder if you’ll end up being article #266.

“I…” the words die on your throat as genuine fear overtakes you. A million thoughts and then some ran through your head. Did Jed really write this? Or was he an accomplice to murder? Was he covering up for someone, and had stored the evidence that could get them convicted here?

You exhale, and Jed patiently awaits your answer, though not without slowly making his way to lean on the desk on front of you. The desk that was the only thing keeping you two apart.

“I…I wanted to surprise you, Jed.” A nervous laugh leaves your lips, not unlike the one you’ve heard Jed use plenty of times in your earlier stages of dating, but he doesn’t follow up with his own this time. Instead, silence is his only response, his eyes boring into your own coldly as you stutter out an explanation.

“I found, uh, this.” You lift up the journal “And I was…just- I was just reading it. This is a pretty cool project. Is it for work?” Your voice pitches upwards near the end, as you try and desperately salvage whatever life you had left after this moment. “W-wow! Just wow! The cinematography is amazing!” You exclaim with a shaky smile. Jed still hadn’t said anything, and his expression was unreadable. You couldn’t see his hands, but you could tell with how the ligaments in his wrists flexed that he was clenching and unclenching his hands. Your hand moves up to wipe some sweat away, and it’s only then when Jed’s eyes snap to your hand and widen slightly.

Before you can react, your wrist is snatched by his hand and pulled to him. You exclaim loudly in pain, as the edge of the desk digs painfully into your hipbones. Confusion mars your face, and your brows furrow when you see Jed bring your hand up closer to his face. The same hand that you had in your pants just a few moments prior.

Both your gazes linger on your fingers, copious amounts of wetness coating them and practically dripping towards your palm. Jed continues observing, and you could practically see the cogs in his head turning, more likely than not debating what to do with this situation. Or you for the matter.

An easy smile breaks onto his pink lips, and he lowers your hand down to the desk, but not letting go. His thumb gently rubs your pulse point before speaking up.

“Yeah? You like it?” And you blink. There’s was no way he bought that “art project for work.” story. He was smarter than that, much smarter than that. You knew him. Not as well as you thought, apparently, but still. Jed wasn’t fooled easily. He knew that you knew.

“Yeah.” You plainly state. There was nothing else you could say. You could only see where he goes with this.

“I can see that. You really like it, huh? A little more than normal, I can see.” He chuckles deeply before continuing.

“You like this sort of thing? Blood and gore? That get you off baby?”

You couldn’t help the arousal blooming within you once again. It mixed with the fear perfectly and you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

“I do. I really do Jed. Do…do you too? Is that why you make so many of these art projects?”

Jed hums, his grip on your wrist tightening, and he leans forwards.

“Exactly why. It lets me let my creative side out more. I can only write about the murders at work so much before getting a bit stifled by them. You understand that, right baby?”

You nod, your throat feeling dry but your cunt definitely not.

“Understandable. And I’m guessing you wanna keep these projects private right?”

Bright, white teeth slowly reveal themselves and Jed’s grin looks almost feral.

“Precisely. I don’t mind sharing them with you, my darling, if you like them. But I’m a bit too shy to show anyone else. You know, artistic pressure to perform and all that. I’d rather…keep it cathartic.”

His smile drops suddenly, and pain explodes in your shoulder as you’re roughly shoved onto the desk. You release the journal, and it falls to the ground as fingers wind tightly in your hair and lift your face up. Jed’s crotch stares you in the face, and to your horrified delight, his cock is hard and visible through his slacks. He bends down to bring his lips to your ear.

“And if you ever tell anyone about them, I’ll star you in the next one. Long before they can even bring me to showcase them at the Courthouse Art Gala. Understand?” His whisper is harsh, and his threat is clear.

You know you should be terrified for your life – and in a way, you certainly are – but a bigger, more powerful part of you is elated. This is the missing piece. This is what you’ve wanted all along. A raw and unfiltered Jed. And a raw and unfiltered you. No social constraints keeping the darkest part of each other hidden.

“I understand. I won’t tell a soul as long as – “ You lick your lips. “As long as I get to keep reading them.”

Jed mutters something under his breath that you can’t understand, and suddenly your world spins as you’re flipped onto your back. The clinking of a buckle being undone resonates in your ears and Jed looks down on you with dilated pupils. He releases his cock with a sigh and slaps the head of it onto your lips languidly, precum stringing onto them.

“Fuck. Yes, you can read them as much as you like.” He growls out, continuing to rub the head onto your mouth. “Dirty whore. You really like that kind of stuff, don’t you? Like the idea of some dead fucker’s blood everywhere?” He nudges against your mouth again, and you open your mouth eagerly to let him in, but he pulls back.

“Answer me, slut.”

Your fingers are once again sliding down your body, and you moan out at the sheer dirtiness of it all. Were you really about to fuck your husband after finding out he was a ruthless killer?

“Yes! Yes, I love this shit. Mmm, love it, love you. Please – fuck – please let me suck you.” You breath out, earning something between a chuckle and groan from your husband.

“I’m not going to let you suck anything. Bad girls don’t get to suck my cock. I told you I wanted to clean this room with you together, and you fucking disobeyed me? You think you’re hot shit in charge?”

You shake your head and Jed scoffs.

“Touch yourself. Touch yourself while you look at my cock. Don’t even think about moving forward to get a lick. If you do…”

A glint catches your eye and excitement pools within your groin as your fingers finally find your clit. A knife. He had a fucking knife on him. Probably grabbed it once he realized you were in the study. Probably was gonna use it to kill you.

You moan at the thought. And then groan immediately after realizing what Jed had just said.

“Fuck. Yes. Okay.”

You rub tight circles around your clit, briefly pausing to remove you bottoms and kick off your underwear, and then dip your fingers further down. You follow Jed’s orders, staring at his dripping, pulsing cock in front of your face. Your mouth watered. You wanted nothing more than to have it in your mouth, feel the weight of it against your tongue, hear you husband’s groans as you hollow out your cheeks.

Jed’s eyes were trained on your hand as you bring yourself to a soft orgasm. You shake slightly, breathing out in pleasure, but wanting more. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and they open up again as you feel soft lips on your own.

You startle a little when you feel Jed’s tongue prod your lips, the wound you had forgotten from biting your lip earlier opening up once again. Jed groans and he tongues the wound a few more times before moving back up.

“You look good like this. Mouth all covered in precum and blood? Fuck, I really did choose the perfect one, huh?”

Before you can reply, Jed shoves his cock in your mouth.

“Now suck.”

And you do. Your tongue circles the head before you hollow out your cheeks to suck him in, prompting Jed to step forward more with a curse. The steel of the knife finds your throat and you moan out as Jed’s thrusts become rougher and rougher.

Bliss spreads through every part of your body. The threat of death looms over you. You have a knife to your throat. You’re starting to feel lightheaded from having your head hang upside down from the desk. Your neck hurts and you can barely breath with Jed’s cock in your mouth.

And you loved every second of it.

“Mmmm, fuck Y/N! One slip of this – “ He taps your exposed throat with the knife lightly “ – and you’re dead. God, I bet you’d look fucking amazing. I’d cum so hard over your body.” You hum lightly in agreement at the dirty words, and Jed shudders at the sensation. “But then, you wouldn’t be the Final (Girl/Boy). You wouldn’t be my Final (Girl/Boy). Gotta keep you alive. I’d miss this slutty cunt too much if I killed you.”

Jed’s middle finger slides against your clit and between your lips before bending forwards. His lips meet your lower ones as you choke on his cock from him moving forwards again, and you immediately forgive this as he begins sloppily eating you out. His fingers slip into you and begin pumping in and out, and already you’re closer to the edge once again.

The room is silent save for the dirty noises echoing against its walls. Under that desk, you dropped Jed’s sins, and on top of that desk you create ones of your own. Images of Jed covered in blood, crimson staining platinum blond locks, wild grin stretching lips, had you clenching around his fingers. You wonder how he feels when he does it. Does he also get aroused? As aroused as you are now, teetering on the edge of orgasm in barely contained delight at the thought of blood?

“- Danny. Got it?”

You snap out of your reverie, the concentration on the feeling of his fingers and mouth on you broken and robbing you of your orgasm as you try and process what Jed just said.

Danny? Who the fuck is Danny?

For a brief moment, you wonder if he’s thinking of someone else, and your heart sinks. You slow the pace of your mouth and moan in question around him. Your worries are quickly dispelled as Jed pops off from your cunt to repeat himself.

“I’m gonna cum on you. When you cum say my name, say Danny. Got it now?” He growls out before speeding up the pace of his fingers and tongue.

Before you can process the revelation of Jed – no – Danny’sidentity, the feeling of rushing towards your orgasm hits you once again. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your legs shaking in the explosive rush of pleasure. Everything you’ve discovered up to today, the entire situation, the physical stimulation all culminates in a powerful climax. You practically squeal around Danny’s dick, pulling a loud yelling groan from him as he shoves himself away from you and gives himself a few rapid pumps.

“My name, Say it!” He grits out between clenched teeth, locking eyes with your pleasure ridden face. You moan his name out through your orgasm and he cums on the spot with another loud noise, thick ropes of cum coating your face and chest. It stings on your cut, but you lick it up anyway as you savor your first taste of Danny.

The come down wasn’t awkward like you thought it would be. Danny was a lot more forthcoming and vicious then Jed. In the shower, Danny had held his knife to your throat as you cleaned him up. Threats spilled from his lips, and you smiled. Not because you thought they were empty, but because you knew they weren’t.

‘As they say’ you think to yourself.

‘But curiosity brought it back.’

[saudade-mayari]

After Hours

pairing/s: Shouta Aizawa x nanny!reader | wc: 1.7k

warnings: reader is a college student (tw: slight age gap), 18+ content, DD/lg dynamics, unprotected sex, heavy use of little slut, minors dni

a/n: request from anon. I enjoyed writing this one!!!

He can’t take his eyes off you. Something Shouta knows, but he is completely denying every gist of it.

Hizashi and Nemuri hired you to support your masteral studies at your university. Shouta knows that it’s wrong to accept the offer because he always knew the underlying meaning of his friend’s apparent antics.

But the thing is, you weren’t doing anything wrong. At all. You are diligent and quickly got Eri’s affection. You even took care of Shinso, who is supposed to be out of your duties.

You don’t faze on his rational and logical demeanor.

You’re a natural and it’s too domestic for him.

But he has come to want more of it.

He shook his head off, removing the capture weapon from his neck, and slowly starts to unzip his hero costume. He needs a shower.

He needs to take you off his mind.

For some reason, Shouta can always shut out his mind to what is bothering him and just focus on the sensation of the cold water cascading over his body. Aside from his sleep, showering has always been a relaxing retreat from the stresses of his day, but this one is so different.

Fifteen, twenty, and even thirty minutes in the showers did not help.

Sighing in relief, a somehow sense of calm and composure lasted, but the moment he stepped out of the showers took away all his logical ruse. Before him, on the bed, he took in the sight of a pair of bare legs with an unbelievably tight black skirt, waiting by the door with your all so innocent face.

Your face is now brimming crimson red when you realize the current situation. The Erasure Hero, all wrapped up with a piece of a white towel, his long raven hair all wet, and his usual demeanor speaks so differently tonight.

“I’m so sorry! I- didn’t mean to intrude I- just gonna say I’m about to go. Eri is in the student dorms with Midoriya-kun. I’m really-”

“It’s okay.” He plainly answers while grabbing another towel to dry his hair, making you wonder how soft it would be. Your eyes land on his collarbones, down to his chiseled body that you hadn’t realize how buff he really is. Finally, convincing yourself that his hero suit did not even give justice to his body build.

“Eyes up, y/n.” He says with a strained voice, almost a stifled sound, and groan, mentally cursing himself to stop responding to the woman he’s been trying to distance with.

You smirk in response, curling the ends of your hair as you click and bounce the edges of your stiletto, looking straight through his sleep-deprived orbs with a victory evident in your eyes.

“Stop staring on my skirt too, Mr. Aizawa.” You say, attempting to play with the fire you can rarely feel.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” He asks. His eyes getting darker as he placed down the towel and took his capture weapon, and even the way his muscles involuntary flexed as he stretched the weapon seems to captivate you in all ways possible.

The erasure hero's repressed feelings slowly came to life, and your legs felt weak with the man standing in front of you. You had always adored him, liked him from afar, but you know he is never interested in anything that involves romance.

“If I would have known that a little skirt would be the way to keep you staring at me, I would have done it a long time ago, Mr. Aizawa.” You say, attempting to walk away, but before you could even walk a single step, his capture weapon wrapped around your body, dragging you in his direction to get a firm grasp on your dainty figure.

“Who would have thought that your innocent face hides the devil within. You’re a seductress.” He says.

Taking all the advantage, your hands let loose from his capture weapon, snaking them on his chest and going up to wrap around his neck, smirking in victory as you felt his hardened member underneath the thin towel wrapped around his hips.

“You bet, daddy.” You whisper, and the next thing you could figure is when his hand holds your face as his lips push hard against yours. His other hand traces a line down your neck and hovers right above your breast.

It was reckless and impulsive. You longed for him for god knows when and you’re taking all the chance you can have. But to all your luck, he pulled away and smirked between the heavy breathing. His face still right against yours, and his fingers stroked your cheek, feeling his breath on your face while his other hand went to hike up your skirt.

“Impatient.”

Shouta took his time to caress your legs, gently parting them to have access to your clothed folds. His eyes are still staring at you, waiting for every reaction and expression you do whenever he starts to add pressure on your folds.

“What did you call me?” He demands. Sliding your underwear aside, and quickly had his fingers pushed inside of you. Your hands held his shoulders, trying to stifle the moan which deliberately failed. Shouta smirked, amazed by the wetness and how easily you were clenching for him.

“Answer me.” He says, pushing faster and rougher while he admires the lewd expression coming out from your face. “Daddy… please.” You moan, your fingers digging deeper on his arms as he continues fingering your folds with a harder pace.

“You want me to be your daddy?” He whispers. Still amazed by how he managed to say that. He is never a vocal person, but you managed to bring it out with little phrases, and a black skirt pushed his buttons.

“Y-yes. Fuck, daddy. I want you.” You moan louder this time, slowly feeling a wave of release while Shouta kept going, grinning as he felt your folds clenched around his finger. “Cum for your daddy then.”

You moaned louder this time, your legs contracting while your forehead pressed on his shoulder. Your breath hitching as Shouta withdrew his fingers from your folds, tasting the sweet release you just did.

“You’re a little slut. So wet.” He says. Altogether yanking off his towel while he pushed you to his bed.

Aizawa Shouta’s bed.

“I’m your little slut, daddy.” You respond as you stroke his hardened member, mentally talking to yourself if this could fit while you pull his body fully against your own.

And that’s all Shouta needed. A validation. His hands instantly destroyed your blouse. Wordlessly, he reached behind your back and undid your bra. It clung to your high, proud breasts for an agonizing second before slipping away, and Shouta has never felt this insane.

“Daddy’s going to fuck his little slut then.” He says as his tongue danced into your mouth and running along the back of your teeth.

It was too much.

Your mind never even contemplated resisting.

You coaxed his tongue out of your mouth and into yours, where you sucked on it with a hungry lust. You ran your nails down his chest, feeling his body pleasantly shudder with awakening in response, excitement completely dominating your rational thoughts.

“Use me. Use your little slut until-” He was on to you with a strained groan, straightened up, and took your right leg with him, placing it on his shoulder.

He guided himself to you, his cock rigid and hot, seemingly straining against its own limits. Shouta starts to thrust forward, once and twice, before he drives himself to the hilt. His cock pounding ever so slightly to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Muscles are twitching and pulling on the erasure hero.

He stared at your face while your hands gripped on the bedsheets, slowly pulling down and getting more harder as Shouta starts to fully thrust his shaft inside your wet folds. “Is this what you want?”

“Fuck. Y-yes, Shouta more-”

A hard thrust came while he bit your lower lip and starts to go faster this time. He was utterly ignoring your climax and kept thrusting against his little temptress.

“That’s not how you called me, little slut.” He whispers while he continues his pace, breaking you down and forcing you to drive back against his rough rhythm.

“Daddy! Daddy, I’m gonna cum please-” Unable to speak clearly because of the girth of his cock completely dominating you.

“So wet. So fucking tight.” His eyes devoured you. Your half-open mouth, breasts bouncing with each thrust and parry, and your stomach muscles contracting each time.

“Daddy mmmh so big”

Shouta never answered a word, but he felt himself pacing slowly while he felt your breast inadvertently press against him. You arched your back and screamed as you came for the third time.

Entire body tightened up, seemingly every muscle from top to bottom, but Shouta never stopped. Instead, you feel his cock tense up inside your folds. It grows harder and somehow feels even bigger as he moans near your earlobes.

“One more, my little slut, one more. Cum with daddy.” He says, panting, moaning, and completely twisted. Thrusting the climax as long as it crested. He pushes deep into yours as his cock throbs, and he starts to cum inside, feeling the wave after wave of his warm cum fill your folds.

It went for few solid minutes while you exhaled in one long blast of air. Your muscles loosened once more, feeling dizzy, and your ears rang, silently admonishing yourself for waiting this long before letting loose the erasure hero’s pent-up sexual vigor.

Shouta calms himself as he stares at the juices you both released, slowly withdrawing and proceeding to get a towel for the mess you both did. His head is resting on your shoulders with pressure you could barely feel.

He kissed your shoulders, hands tightening around your waist to hug you tighter.

“Stay.” He plainly says, still stuffing himself on your dainty body while he awaits your answer.

You chuckled in response, caressing his soft raven hair while your other hand traced his nape. It is really soft.

“Of course. I love having my personal daddy after hours of work.” You incredulously and rhetorically said aloud.

And Shouta could not even begin to guess what was still in store for him, but he knows he is genuinely happy.

[justplainmels]

Do you think Jack was jealous of Pete?

Interesting question! I have a short answer and another tangent.

Short answer: I don’t think he was jealous of Pete per se. If anything, he was envious of the fact that Pete was allowed to express his feelings and was able to offer her things he can’t. But as far as Jack is concerned, it all comes down to Sam and her happiness even if it's at the expense of his.

More thoughts after the break!

Now this isn’t to say that Jack didn’t have jealous moments. He is human after all. I just don’t think it’s this underlying constant feeling festering inside him which is how I’m interpreting the question. I think Jack’s attitude towards the whole Pete situation is one more focused on the love he thinks is lost between him and Sam rather than her new love with Pete. To me, the angsty moments after Grace have more to do with this and Pete is almost an afterthought tagged onto the end like “oh yeah and she’s with someone else.”

He knows that Pete is different than the others who have shown interest in her in the past, mostly because he has no connection to the Stargate. Pete represents a life outside the mountain—a chance at a “normal” life. The kind of life they fight for others to have and the kind they all deserve but may never find—or find again at least. The guys of SG-1 have all had it in some sense, albeit way too short lived. But not Sam, and if anyone deserves a chance at that, it’s Sam.

Jack would never stand in her way if he thought that’s what she wanted. He checks in on her new relationship as if he could tell that something changed from her humming demeanor on the elevator.

And he doesn’t let her off the hook with her non specific dismissive answer either.

So first of all, I think this is one of those times where they’re having a whole different conversation than the words actually spoken. Sam’s words are talking like they’re coming from experience, but when has there been even one other time in the series where either of them would have this experience? Like who is this “they” she speaks of?

Instead, I think they’re talking about this “normal” life that Jack’s been telling her to get. She’s really saying that in the past, it hasn’t bother her that work and the Stargate have been her life because she feels like a normal life wouldn’t be compatible with her life at the SGC anyway.

I love how he picks up on the key word, “usually,” which reinforces the notion that things are different this time. (The main difference being Sam now has these thoughts from her hallucinations in her head but Jack doesn’t know that! I also think gifted kid burnout plays a role in it but that’s a whole nother thing.) Essentially, Jack is hearing that Sam wants what he can't give her.

The nail in the coffin is when Sam confirms that she also thinks this time is different, or could have been.

Which brings me to my last thoughts which kind of just circles back. One of the main reasons why I don’t think Jack was really jealous of Pete is because I don’t think it makes a difference to him who Sam's in a relationship with. Again, they were talking about Pete in the scene above, but were they really? (*the answer is no*)

All that matters is her and above all else, he wants her to be happy.

I’ve had this recurring thought when I watch this scene that perhaps Jack somehow played a hand in getting Pete clearance. (This is of course overlooking the fact that it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever that Pete gets full clearance about the Stargate, but I digress…) Sam wouldn't ask for something personal like this, and I can’t imagine Hammond just freely handing out full disclosures.

From their conversation before the mission, it seems like Sam’s relationship with Pete is over because of the secret nature of her job. To Jack, that means it’s the only thing standing in the way of her chance at happiness, and a part of me thinks that he couldn't help himself when sees an opportunity after what happens at Daniel's house. Who knows what favors he had to cash in, but somehow he gets the exemption and his only other request is that Hammond doesn’t tell her the part he played.

After their debriefing, the General calls Sam into his office to give her authorization to reveal the details of the Stargate to Pete. She gives him a questioning look. "If I may ask, sir, how?" she stammers as she tries to comprehend what this means. Honoring his 2IC's wishes, he tells her a cover story. She doesn't fully buy it, but she understands the silent implication to not ask any further questions.

Once she's dismissed, she stops by her lab and pulls out a wrapped present from her desk drawer. She thinks about the picture inside and smiles wondering if her luck is starting to turn around. Maybe this time she really can have it all.

[tamelee]

Hi tameleee, I wondered if you ever thought of making a SNS dj? I read that you were studying storytelling and in our favor *wink* that would be a win-win situation 👁 *aggressively hinting* Also I read once that Kishimoto stopped drawing goggles for Naruto only because it was too hard to draw and I just thought that was so funny, because I guess those are things you wouldn't ever think about before you start designing? I'm new to character design, because I want to make my own OC's so I have to learn all these things still, but that makes a lot of sense. Can't wait to see more from you!

Hi Non.e! ♡ You're making/going to make OC's! That really sounds like a lot of fun tbh I've never been able to dip my toes in that topic, but I hope you'll have a lot of fun with that 💕 (Don't know who you are, but if you ever feel comfortable enough to share your work, feel free to do so!)

"I wondered if you ever thought of making a SNS dj? I read that you were studying storytelling and in our favor *wink* that would be a win-win situation 👁 *aggressively hinting*"

I'm trying my hardest right now 😂 and I'm definitely not going to make it in the time-period that I wanted. Partly, because I thought my wrists were healed completely, but they're screaming at me right now. I underestimated how long it takes to prepare a single page. There is so much to learn, but it's also a lot of fun!

"Also I read once that Kishimoto stopped drawing goggles for Naruto only because it was too hard to draw and I just thought that was so funny, because I guess those are things you wouldn't ever think about before you start designing?"

Well I think those are things you only learn through experience. 

Kishimoto used to have a character named ‘Akira’ from a rejected Manga called “Wandering Detour”.   

And we know one of his, if not his biggest inspirations is a Manga-series called ‘Akira’ as well:

I read a lot of different things, but I personally think the goggles were definitely inspired from there:

Not just the goggles, but the neutral t-shirts, orange jumpsuit, the bold gloves you can see in some of his individual drawings and even the contrasting orange/blue detailing and pads/lining from the Akira designs are somewhat similar. What is so cool about it though is that Akira is from very far into the future while Naruto holds a lot of history and you can see how Kishimoto used that in his art.

Kishimoto said this about the Naruto sketch:

I also loved looking through the Akira art-books and I highly recommend them too if you want to create Manga, because I can definitely see why it got Kishimoto so inspired. It might just be me, but it’s possible that his newest Manga ‘Samurai 8’ and even ‘Boruto’ are also hugely inspired by the science fiction and futuristic themes within its world-building. In fact.. I just now started to read it and if Kishimoto stays involved with ‘Boruto’ then I might have a theory on where it’s going with the story atm. I wanted to make a post about it, but I’m not sure how interested I am in making these anymore. I might just stick with art 😂 Anyway-

Akira is very different, but has similar underlying themes if you peel off some layers. But definitely art-wise, it’s very clear that Kishimoto loved the series a lot. This is done really, really well.

Some examples:

I could go on for a while actually and I haven't even really read it yet. But isn't it beautiful? *-*✨ Thank you for your ask! 💕

[devildomdisaster]

Can you do the first choice with Satan if possible? Love your work <3

Satan is Mc's first choice

Content warnings: None

Mc/ reader is Gender neutral

Lucifer:

Lucifer is pleased Satan finally has something that is uniquely his. Something he can’t compare to what Lucifer himself has. He sees the way Satan lights up around you. His carefully controlled expression slipping from his face and making Satan look altogether more innocent.

While Lucifer is happy for Satan, he also wishes that you would have chosen him. He knows he isn’t the easiest demon to be around, but Mc, he would have tried for you. But then, that’s the difference, he supposes. Satan doesn’t have to try. It just happens, he becomes free around you in a way no one has ever seen Satan be before.

“Morning Lucifer!” you chirp on your way past him.

He looks at you suspiciously, you are clearly hiding something behind your back and he sighs warningly, “Mc…”

“Have you seen Satan? I have a surprise for him!”

Lucifer knows he is creating more trouble for his future self but points you in Satan’s direction anyway. He regrets his lapse in judgment almost instantly when he hears a distinct meow and your quiet murmurs shushing it in response. You’ve brought Satan a cat. And if it’s a gift from you there is no way Satan is going to give it up.

Mammon:

Ok, Mammon is so in love with you Mc. Everyone knows it. But he also loves his family more than anything. He knows that Satan has always been the odd one out. He didn’t experience the Celestial realm or the rebellion or the fall. There is a lot that the other brothers went through that Satan missed out on. Not all of them were good experiences but still, they were experiences that brought them closer together. So seeing you favor Satan is both a hardship and a relief.

It’s good to see Satan so interested in another’s wellbeing. The way Satan treats you reminds Mammon of the way his brothers behaved when they were angels. He is so soft around you. He could have you wrapped around his finger in an instant but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets himself be wrapped around yours. Mammon knew from the first time he saw you hide behind Satan and watched the protective stance he took in front of you that no matter how much he loved you, for Satan’s sake he would content himself with just being friends.

Levi

Jealous. So very very jealous. He tries not to be but why not him Mc? It’s just not fair! Levi knows how his sin can come across to others so he tends to avoid you. He doesn’t want his jealousy to affect you or your relationship with Satan, so it’s easier to remove himself from the situation. For a while, you think Levi hates you and he’s content to let you think that. But he still cares about you and about Satan, so eventually, he’ll start trying to deal with his jealousy in other ways. If he can’t be your favorite at least he gets to be friends with you.

“Levi! You won’t believe what happened at RAD today! Oh! But I’ve got to tell Satan first!” You are so excited that you don’t stop to realize the effect your words have on Levi. And he has to fight off his envy.

But oh well, at least you want to tell him too. He’ll just have to wait until you find Satan first. “He’s in the library Mc. But once you tell him you’ve got to come back and tell me too, I’m curious now.”

Asmo

Asmo sort of understands why you’d pick Satan. Asmo still thinks he’s the best but Satan isn’t a bad choice either. Plus you do get along surprisingly well with Satan. He's even seen Satan reading aloud to you with your head in his lap! In the middle of the living room no less! No one has ever seen Satan in such a vulnerable position before. What right does Asmo have to interfere with something so unexpected? He gets the feeling, and Asmo is seldom wrong about this sort of thing, that Satan is just as in love with you as you are with him. He finds it part sickening and part adorable.

If you need advice about Satan, Asmo is your demon. He is almost as invested in your relationship as you are. He also loves to help you pick out outfits for dates you or Satan are planning. And you trust him with this, so the way he sees it the two of you still get to spend plenty of time together.

“Oh, Mc!” Asmo sings “Satan would just love to see you in these cat ears!”

“A-Asmo! No way. I can’t just waltz into the house of lamentation with cat ears! It’d be too embarrassing!”

Asmo shrugs but doesn’t miss the fact that you put the cat ear headband in your shopping cart anyways. Nor do you miss the smug look on Asmo's face after you listen to his advice.

Satan

He’s surprised. Most of what he’s known until now has been stained with carefully controlled wrath. His brothers know that his smile is often concealing something much darker, and Satan himself knows exactly how dark his hidden thoughts are. But you come along and change everything. Being born from another’s anger he never expected to be capable of feeling more than surface-level emotions and underlying wrath. And while that initial expectation did fade over time he has always been careful to control his emotions. But around you, he feels so free. Like all the bad, dark feelings he has got replaced by something bright. Satan is often more reserved than his brothers, so he is surprised you know him, understand him, so intimately.

Being your favorite is deeply satisfying. Part of him wants to use this to make his brothers (Lucifer) jealous. But he finds he cares for you too much to use you against Lucifer. Satan revels in the pure feelings of affection you invoke in him. There is very little he won't do for you once he realizes his feelings for you are returned.

He is almost too smug when you skip past all of his brothers after a long day at RAD “Read to me?” you ask curling under the arm he is using to hold his book.

“It’s in Latin,” he murmurs. Eyes barely leaving the page.

“So?”

“So I'll translate for you.” he fake sighs, while stroking your hair. He pointedly ignores the shocked looks his brothers are shooting the two of you and begins reading to you.

Beel

Beel is a little sad, but he is mostly happy for Satan. He, perhaps more than any of the others, realizes that while Satan is as much part of their family as anyone else he has struggled to feel as closely bonded as the rest of them. Beel knows that Satan sometimes feels like he doesn’t belong due to the way he was created. It’s ridiculous, of course, but that doesn’t change the way someone feels.

Beel has a hunch that being your favorite might help Satan stop questioning his worth as part of their family. Beel can’t help but smile when he sees you favor Satan. You’ll wait for him to walk back from RAD, and go straight to him when you have good news. You remind Beel a little bit of a puppy. This isn’t to say Beel doesn’t wish he was your favorite instead, he just thinks you and Satan are cute together.

Belphie:

Didn’t Satan almost kill you once, Mc? Sure Lucifer stopped him in time, but really, have you forgotten that so quickly? Or do you just like Satan enough to ignore it? Belphie is a fair bit upset that you chose Satan despite the fact that he tried to kill you too.

Belphie feels like he missed out on getting to know you while he was in the attic. It’s not fair that his brothers got so much time to win you over. And by the time he left the attic, you had already chosen a favorite. He feels like he didn’t get a fair chance. But oh well, with the amount of time you spend ‘pestering’ Satan perhaps he dodged a bullet, he’d hardly get any time to nap around you.

Truthfully Belphie is a little bitter. But as part of the ‘Lucifer sucks’ club Belphie is begrudgingly happy for Satan. Besides it’s become increasingly easy to rope you into pulling pranks on Lucifer so perhaps Satan being your favorite isn’t so bad.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Blind But Now I See

summary: the all knowing rossi sets reader and hotch up on a blind date.

pairing: fem!reader x soft!hotch

warnings: 18+ content, feelings, fluff, unprotected sex, love confessions

word count: 4k

AN: this is my submission for the hotchafterhours smut challenge.

You only thought there was one person on this earth that knew why you were single; you. The reason was embarrassing, one you tried not to think about too often but failed miserably at because you were constantly surrounded by said reason.

Aaron Hotchner. Your boss.

You’d started at the BAU only a year and a half ago and fallen head over heels in love with a man you couldn’t have. There was never a day that went by that you didn’t wish you could’ve fallen for one of your equals like Emily or Derek; even JJ who was married would’ve been a better choice. But your brain was a bit of a masochist, so here you were, smitten with him. You were sure it would never work, primarily because you know he feels nothing for you; he probably would prefer someone older and more like him. You would only see yourself as a means to an end if he was interested.

The only good thing about this situation is you were really great at hiding it. This saves you the embarrassment of not only being teased by the team but being rejected by a man who by all accounts was respectful, sweet, and thought you were a valued member of the team.

At least that’s what you thought.

When Rossi continued to poke and prod you about letting him set you up on a date you were reluctant but eventually gave in. It must’ve been his Italian charm.

“You deserve someone that cherishes you bella.”

You couldn’t argue with him on that.

_____

Hotch had done everything in his power to avoid showing what he felt for you. You were just so incredibly easy to love. He was hung up on everything about you. The way you bit the tip of your pen while filling out reports, the power in your stride, the constant sweetness underlying all your facial expressions. His favorite thing was how soft your voice was and how loud your laugh was in comparison.

Hotch knows that Rossi’s caught him red handed. One too many times he’s felt a gaze on him while studying you only to find Rossi looking at him with a smirk on his face. He also knows that Rossi understands the situation, though that doesn’t stop him from telling Hotch maybe it would be worth the try, worth the hassle.

Of course he knew you were worth the hassle, but he also knew you wouldn’t feel the same way. You could never want an older man like him, not with your energy and optimism. You were too good for him, too everything he wished he could be. This is what keeps him from taking Rossi’s advice to attempt to get closer to you. It’s always what makes him say yes when Rossi says he’s setting him on a blind date.

“You want to try to forget her don’t you?”

“Just tell me when and where.” He grumbles before sulking back into his own office, but not before taking a glance at you.

_____

The night of your blind date you’ve finished all your reports and all you need to do is take them to Hotch. You hope that this will be the last time that you walk up to his office with the hope that he’ll take you into his arms and kiss you. If the blind date went well enough you could forget about your feelings for Hotch, that’s what you were aiming for. You’re surprised when you get up to his office that he’s standing, packing his things up.

“Just set those on my desk, agent.” He gives you a polite and professional smile, one that’s warm enough but still distant.

You had a love hate relationship with that smie. You wanted him to smile at you the way he does Rossi or JJ or even Morgan. Instead you get the reserved smile that’s for interviewing families and meeting new officers at the precincts. But he was so gorgeous, so beautiful and you couldn’t actually be mad. Seeing his smile, no matter what kind of smile it is, is a blessing in your book.

“Of course, sir. Getting out of the office early tonight?” You try to make small talk.

“For once. Dave has convinced me to-“ He must realize himself because he stops and begins again with, “Yeah, getting out early. You as well?”

“Yes sir, I have a date tonight.” You’d be lying if you said you don’t know why you say this. It’s because you wanted him to be jealous, you knew he wouldn’t be but you wanted it. Even if it was a flash of jealousy in his eyes that went away so quickly you’d question it. It doesn’t come.

“I hope it goes well, Y/l/n.” He’s jealous but he continues to have that smile on his face.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.” You say softly, disappointed that there were no micro-expressions to read.

When you’re just out the door you hear him murmur, “Be safe.” It makes your chest warm in a way you hate.

You almost wait for him, walk to the elevator and have an actual conversation with him but you decide against it. No reason to invest in a man that you were trying to forget. To help with that you take the stairs instead of the elevator.

When you get home you take a long, hot shower, scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a vanilla and lavender scented body wash that calms you. You truthfully weren’t that nervous as no one could gaze at you with an intensity that Hotch could. He had an aura to him that just made your knees weak and breath stutter. You weren’t sure how you’d made it through the days with him as your boss, though you did volunteer to be partnered up with anyone but him as much as possible. You still haven’t ever shared a room with him.

Rossi has gone all out, setting you up at a fancy steakhouse and is even covering the bill. You’d given some push back, but he claimed he wanted both parties to have a good time and not worry about anything. The worst thing about this being a blind date was that he wouldn’t give you any details except that he knows you would like him. You decide on a long burgundy dress that has a neckline and shows just the right amount of cleavage but clings to your body in the perfect way. You decide to pin half of your hair up and swipe on a nude lipstick before putting in some simple diamond studs. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard but you felt confident in your looks before you stepped out into the night.

The steakhouse is very fancy, taking your car for valet parking and handing you a flute of pink bubbly when you step in the doors. You give them Rossi’s name and they lead you back to a private booth with a closed curtain. There are a few others just like it, and it makes you a bit nervous that you won’t be able to rely on the chatter of others to fill silence in case this goes poorly. You take your seat in the curved booth and wait patiently, taking another sip of champagne. You pat your hair making sure its in place and take one last ill timed sip because it goes into the wrong pipe when the curtains open and Hotch is standing there.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, the gears in both of your heads turning for a moment before speaking at the same time.

“Rossi.”

“Rossi.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Hotch has a resigned smile on his face, one that you can’t figure out. Why is he not more surprised? He looks as if he almost expects this.

“I can go, we can pretend this never happened.” You scramble to grab your purse and start to scooch towards the end of the booth but then he slides in next to you, surprising you.

“No, Y/n, you don’t have to go. I think we should…” He stops, unable to find the right words.

“You think we should have this date?” You breathe, your face twisted in confusion.

“Yes.” He answers, his voice unwavering.

“But I’m your subordinate.”

The corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. “Also, yes.”

“I’m young and inexperienced and-“ You begin but he quickly cuts you off taking your words in a different direction.

“Beautiful and brilliant and hilarious.”

“Hotch.” You murmur, looking away from his intense gaze, your cheeks heating.

“Aaron.” He suggests but you shake your head. You didn’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“We couldn’t possibly do this.”

“Why not? You haven’t said that you’re not interested in me.”

“I, well, um…” You struggle to find the best words. You were more than attracted to him, you were in love with him, but Hotch was out of your league.

“Are you actually interested in me?”

“It wasn’t obvious?”

“I had no idea.”

“Hotch, you had no idea?”

“Aaron.” He presses but you hold your resolve on not calling him by his first name.

“There are so many things that could go wrong. So many things that we could mess up. This isn’t right, people won’t look at you the same. And you need someone better, someone who can meet your needs and take care of you and Jack.”

“You take care of me all the time. You’ve told me to go home before, made me laugh when you can tell I’m upset, got me coffee when I looked and felt exhausted.”

“But the team, and Strauss, and your son. You couldn’t possibly think that I’m the right person for that. You’re out of my league.”

“Nothing’s ever been less true. I know you’re the right person.”

He had to be baiting you, he had to think you were naive. Did he think this was a joke.

“I should go.”

“No, Y/n, please, just get it a shot. Give us a shot.”

“There’s too many outside factors, it could never work.”

“We could make it work, we could do this, you know we can.”

“Aaron, we shouldn’t.”

When his name finally leaves your mouth it’s like the wind is knocked out of him. Even with your voice thick from the unshed tears in your eyes, it’s an angelic sound. The way your mouth caresses the syllables of his name makes him want to ask you to say it over and over again. He knows that he can’t let you go now, that you were made to be with him and to call him by his first name for the rest of his life.

“Y/n, look at me.” His hand rests on your cheek. “I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

“But-“

“No buts. We’re two people who are attracted to each other on a date. If it goes poorly then we go back to how our lives were. I can tell you now that mine will never be the same, not when I know what having you can be like.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as that word is out of your mouth he moves closer to you, leaning in to press his lips to yours for what may be the softest kiss you’ve ever had. It’s patient and gentle, and makes you feel like you're levitating in your seat. He knows what he’s doing with his mouth and now you wonder what it would feel like in other places. You want to keep kissing, and if your lungs weren’t screaming for oxygen you wouldn’t pull away. When you do though, you rest your forehead on his, panting into his mouth.

“Wow. You really know what you’re doing there.”

“So do you.” He murmurs and you hum in agreement before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. A smile spreads across his lips and his eyes look like melting chocolate, warm and sweet and inviting.

When the waiter comes the two of you order and then talk about any and everything. It’s amazing how easy it is to be with each other, it was like riding a bike or baking in the sun. Carefree, relaxing. When he told you to forget about everyone and everything but you he meant it, and it’s not hard to. He is everything you knew he was; sweet, caring and funny. He’s more animated than you’ve ever seen him, especially when talking about Jack. Dinner comes but the two of you continue to talk through it and after dinner there’s dessert and after dessert, drinks. You’re dreading the end of this date and so is he. You can think of a way to extend it but you’re nervous to pose the question. Luckily he takes the lead for you.

“I’m not ready for this to end.”

“Me either. I know you have Jack and I would never want to overstep but do you…maybe…want to come back to mine?”

“I’d love that.”

The two of you slide out of the booth and he takes your hand, leading you out. You wait for your cars to be brought up by valet, texting him the address during this short time. Your car is brought up first and he walks you around to the drivers side, and gives you a gentle kiss before helping you in.

As soon as you’re out of his sight you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Was this actually happening? You just went on a date with the boss that you were in love with. And he wanted it just as badly as you did. Your mind is spinning, trying to get a hold on this reality when you walk into your apartment.

Should you change? Was this more than a one time thing? Was he serious about giving this a shot? Were you going to sleep together? Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your door.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Come in.”

“Thanks.” He grins nervously, running his thumb over his fingers.

“Something to drink?” You offer as you shut the door.

“Maybe some water?”

“Sure. Please make yourself at home.”

You head into the kitchen taking your filtered water pitcher out of the fridge and filling two glasses. You glance up at him before placing the pitcher back into the fridge, watching the way his muscles move when he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie.

The two of you down your glasses of water in comfortable silence with you tucked into his side on the couch. Once finished you lean into him, your head coming into the crook of his neck. He kisses your forehead affectionately, and you look up at him, puckering your lips for another kiss. He obliges, bringing one hand up to wrap around you throat, though he’s put no pressure on it as his lips meet yours. It’s a lazy kiss, one that allows him to explore your mouth and that fills you with wanting. Before you know it you're in his lap, your hands tugging at his hair. After several minutes of making out and grinding into him he’s the one that pulls away.

“We don’t have to take the next step if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, sir, I absolutely want to.” You move out of his lap, pulling him with you down the hall and to your bedroom.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder up to the spot underneath your ear, making you shiver. “No more sir then. The only thing I want to hear you moan is my name.”

“Yes, okay.” You whisper as you turn around, leaning in for another deep kiss. Its long and heated, but sweet and it takes your breath away. He turns the two of you around, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling you into his lap once more. His hands slip down your body, and up the skirt of your dress, where he rests them on your thighs. You begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, slowly and unhurried. You wanted to take your time, just in case this was the only time this ever happened. It didn’t seem like he had any issues with that as he didn’t move to go any faster. Once unbuttoned, you push his shirt off his shoulders. When you start to fumble with his belt, you lean back in order to get it undone.

Nothing but mingled, harsh breaths and the rustling of clothing fills your bedroom as his hands come to remove your dress.

“You’re more beautiful than I imagined.” He breathes, unclasping your bra to free your breasts.

“I could say the same about you.” You stand to remove your underwear, and he lifts his hips to rid himself of his boxers, pants, and socks. You both are completely exposed to the other and for just a moment take in the sight of the other, partially in awe and partially in disbelief.

This was really happening. You’d have to thank Rossi, though you weren’t sure what to get the man who was rich enough to buy whatever he wanted. You shake your head slightly, ridding yourself of thoughts of Rossi. You didn’t want to think about a fatherish figure while engaging in sex.

“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs as he pulls you back down on his lap.

“About how I need to thank Rossi, but also how I didn’t want to think about him when I’m about to have sex.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get your mind off of him soon enough.” He smiles into a kiss, his hands come up to brush over your nipples. All you can do is whimper into his mouth, which elicits a groan from him. You continue to kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth as you reach in between your warm bodies to grasp his erection. “Y/n.” He whispers as you sink down onto him. It’s easy, you’re incredibly wet from just making out with him. If there was a next time you would focus more on foreplay but for now, you needed him inside you, needed to feel him.

“Mmm, Aaron.” Your hands find his hair, and you run your fingers through his hair as you start to move up and down on him slowly. His hands come to rest on your back as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into a hug. A low moan leaves your throat as he mouths at your shoulder, sucking a dark mark into it.

“God, the way you taste, the way you feel, the way you sound. You’re intoxicating.” His hips move up lazily to meet yours, causing the tip of him to brush against your g-spot repeatedly, a moan slipping from between your lips every time. You’re overwhelmed not only with pleasure but with the strong need to let him know how you feel about him.

“Aaron?” You whine into his neck, rocking your hips against him.

“Yes, baby?” His voice is strained as he ruts his hips up into you repeatedly.

His term of endearment shocks you in the best way, a small satisfied giggle leaving you as you pull back to make eye contact with him. His eyes are glowing full of desire and warmth and you know if you fall, he’ll catch you. “I think - fuck you feel so good - I think I’m in love with you.”

You’re too timid to say how you truly feel, it felt like too much too early.What he says next takes away all your nerves.

Without hesitation, like he’s been waiting his whole life to say this he replies with, “I know I’m in love with you. You’re everything.” His words push you into the most intense orgasm you ever experience. It makes your eyes squeeze shut and your body stiffen. He holds you tightly, making sure you don’t fall backwards as he continues to pump into you, whispering sweet praises into your ear. He meets his not long after you, letting go as your name leaves him in a soft, satisfied sigh. He falls back onto the bed, keeping his arms around you.

The two of you lay there, breathing deeply and basking in the safeness of post-coital glow. You’ve never felt more at home than in his arms. He’s still inside of you, and you feel full in more than one way. Full of him and love.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” He murmurs, kissing your forehead.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? I would say wait, but I never thought I’d be here.”

“I’m assuming those are the same.”

“That would mean you wanted me from the moment you saw me?”

“I wanted you before you even came into my life, I just never thought I’d get you. I never thought that love was possible for me again, not after...you know.” His words make your heart squeeze with sadness.

You take his face into your hands, making him look at you. “Aaron, anyone would be lucky to have you. When I said you were out of my league, I meant it.”

He flushes, a shy smile spreading across his face before he speaks again. “I’m not perfect by any means and I know I have things to work on but I want to be that for you. I want to be a person you feel would do anything and everything for you.”

“I don’t care about the past, we can’t worry ourselves with that. I know that you can be that person for me, I trust you with my heart Aaron, you don’t have to worry. The question is will you trust me with yours?”

“Of course I will.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” He purses his lips at your conclusion and you raise an eyebrow, asking a silent what?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s quiet, his eyes wary.

“That’s impossible, even if we do everything at full capacity, we’ll hurt each other. What we have to focus on is how to do our best in apologizing and holding the other accountable with patience and love. We have to be understanding.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“I’m absolutely terrified but there’s no one else I want to do this with.”

“I would be honored to be able to do this with you. The only thing is, once you have me, you’re stuck with me. I’m yours, until the moon falls out of the sky.”

“Very poetic of you Agent Hotchner, but you’re a dimwit if you think I’d have it any other way.”

“A dimwit?”

“A dimwit. One I love.”

“This dimwit loves you too.”

_____

The next morning you’re at your desk as Rossi walks in. He stops to talk to you, keeping his voice low.

“No complaints about your date?” He asks expectantly.

“It was memorable. One for the books.” Your face warms, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across it as you look at him.

“I knew it would be.” He gives you a wink before heading into Hotch’s office.

“Morning, Aaron.”

“You could’ve told me.” Hotch doesn’t look up from the report he’s working on.

“You wouldn’t have gone.” Rossi says matter of factly.

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” Hotch sets his pen down and looks at Rossi.

“Your secret’s safe with me until you’re both ready.”

“Thank you Dave.” His voice is sincere, a strong sense of gratitude courses through him.

“No problem.” Rossi turns to leave but then stops in the door. “Oh, and Aaron?”

“Yes, Dave?”

“You deserve it.”

Hotch’s mouth turns up into a genuine smile, one that doesn’t grace the offices of the BAU often. “I’m starting to understand that. Thanks.”

tagged: @ssahotchsbitch, @ssahotchie, @mrsh0tchner, @azenpal, @disgruntledchowchow, @chelseyjoyce, @hotchwhore15, @hotforhotchner11, @ssamorganhotchner, @choppa-style, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @spngirl05

[fedzkun]

Villain Hunt Arc Meta: All For One’s Horrific Guide to Methodically Breaking Down Your Local OFA Holder

Ft. Turning the ‘Overpoweredness’ of OFA into a Setback, and AFO’s Successful Manipulations Of Midoriya Izuku

In which I also give AFO too much credit for all the pain he’s probably caused, and theorize that his plans to break Izuku actually started getting enacted even before he’d escaped Tartarus.

(A.k.a. me loving the angst because this is really good angst writing, but also hating it because the manga doesn’t come with a Angst with A Happy Ending tag unless you count Izuku’s ‘this is the story of how I became the greatest hero’ which isn’t really a guarantee of happiness )

So. What an arc! In the span of ten chapters (starting from the end of the War arc) Hori delivered a full-on Villain-looking, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku. Congratulations, Horikoshi, for finally introducing Akatani Mikumo!

The fast pacing and lack of breather panels are so fitting for this arc truly. AFO never gave them a moment’s rest. Yes, from henceforth as he’d promised... It’s always going to be his turn.

Izuku is making amazing progress with unlocking the full power of One For All. In his words, his abilities might as well already be on par with what a healthier All Might could do, and with no recoil to boot. Plus, there’s only one last quirk to unlock. For villain fights, I don’t think we need to worry about him losing, or him breaking anymore bones at this time.

Which, some might argue, makes Izuku too ‘OP.’

To start with, I want to talk first about the ‘overpoweredness’ of the One For All quirk. It’s a wonderful quirk truly, having inspired and amazed so many because of its sheer power. Used well, it could grant instant victories and restore the people’s wavering faith to the heroes. Because with a quirk like that on your side, everything’s going to be alright, right? There’s always gonna be that bit of hope that something is still strong enough to stand against the looming evil...right?

Yeah. That’s what the people who’d lived under All Might’s Era of Peace thought so too. History repeats.

OFA’s ‘OP-ness’ is both a great blessing and a great burden.

Here are some points on how the narrative has made OFA's 'overpoweredness' a setback:

1. All For One—that bastard—exploits the urge that comes with OFA. Just as ‘AFO the quirk’s’ goal is to steal OFA, OFA’s job is to defeat AFO, and Izuku is sacrificing himself to its cause.

Here’s another thing I want to point out: The conclusion that the heroes drew about AFO planning to capture Midoriya Izuku alive? In rereading, I’m starting to believe it’s nothing but a mere assumption of his plans. Aside from the deal made with Lady Nagant—of which I think AFO didn’t take seriously anyway and set her up for failure— (and while we as readers are already aware of his true intentions to wear Izuku down) it’s weird that nowhere had AFO directly mentioned to Izuku that he’s going to kidnap him and take his quirk from him.

2. OFA made Izuku so brilliant (e.g. Pros and former Pros alike going “This kid...”) that they really can't help but place all their hopes on him. Sighs. In an ideal world, this would be a dream come true of Izuku getting his due credit for all his heroic achievements Pro heroes have started to do to Izuku what they’ve done all their lives to All Might--which is to put him on the pedestal, while they fall back to cover him like guards/safety net. Hence, falling back to the One Pillar Model mindset.

3. OFA makes Izuku untouchable, not only to the villains, but also to his allies. Prime material to reinforce isolation. And if Izuku doesn't want to be caught, he won't make it easy for either side.

4. OFA IS SUS AF, OKAY? What are the Holders doing?! While gaining access to them makes it easier and convenient to have personal trainers in handling OFA, the vestiges prove to add a lot to Izuku’s mental load. If they’d allowed Izuku to come to the point of being caked with blood and filth, they’re not doing very well at guiding him. Realize that most of their arc interactions with Izuku is Quirk Talk. They, of all people, should know how AFO’s machinations work! Hey First, for the love of god, warn Izuku! He’s showing so many signs of being manipulated that you should be picking up on. please /sobs ;;

Tbf, like, I’m pretty sure that the Holders haven’t been as mentally okay either, which would feed into Izuku’s current mindset.

Now that the setbacks have been listed, let’s dive in to AFO’s plans to toy with Midoriya Izuku.

PHASE 1: Pre-Tartarus Breakout

Speaking of OFA being sus, there’s something that has been niggling at the back of my mind.

All For One basically tells Izuku: “You were my main interest that entire time I was in prison”. So, to pass the time in Tartarus (since he can’t use any(?) of his quirks), AFO has been doing nothing but apparently daydreaming and designing a personal hell for the Ninth Holder during that entire period. HOWEVER, it also made me wonder…

…Even before he’d broken out, had AFO made any moves at all in enacting his plans to break Izuku?

Yeah?

And here’s the kicker: he says that before Blackwhip bursted out.

AFO is a master manipulator. Assuming that Izuku doesn’t have any latent AFO quirk (for whatever reason *coughs* maybe dfo if you're a believer) or that Quirk Singularity has anything to do with it, what is the trigger to Izuku suddenly having access to Blackwhip?

I’d argue that it is All For One himself.

Why? What’s his goal? If you notice during the Joint Training arc, Izuku is feeling pretty confident about his progress. He’s rather happy and feeling blessed, and he is making leaps and bounds with base power OFA.

AFO can’t have that. He can’t allow the Ninth Holder to become too emotionally stable, or else he’d have a stronger will. So by somehow activating Blackwhip, AFO makes Izuku feel like he hasn’t made any progress with his quirk at all. During the evaluations, Izuku mentions that he still needs a lot to work on, and while not all of it is visible, with the way he behaves, it’s pretty evident that his self-confidence has taken a rather large hit.

But, wait! If AFO had tampered with OFA during the JT arc, paving the way to unlocking the rest (like he’d also done during the War arc when he tried to ‘steal’ it then), then wouldn’t AFO be sabotaging himself since he’d be making Izuku a more formidable opponent?

Sure. Except that the quirks inside OFA are mostly useless when it comes to the mental part of the fighting. The only thing they’re useful for is for the current Holder to be able to play keep-away in the physical realm. And AFO could easily just find counters for those through his work on Tomura.

You know how else the situation becomes advantageous for AFO? With every quirk unlocked, Izuku’s goalposts keep on getting away from him, and Izuku will always feel like he isn’t ready or prepared enough. Izuku will push and push himself to master OFA to its fullest, to become more powerful, at the cost of his mental/emotional stability and physical wellbeing as he wears himself down.

And every time Izuku grew more powerful, and became more ‘OP,’ he is burdened with all the aforementioned setbacks that came with it. He could be the most powerful person in the world, but it’s all for naught if he doesn’t take care of himself. This plan is both a high risk and high reward on AFO’s part, and as of the moment, with a bloody Izuku staggering all over, AFO is visibly reaping these high rewards.

PHASE 2: Post-Tartarus Breakout

He’s going to toy with Izuku until Izuku fucking breaks. What follows is his series of actions that instills the desired responses from Midoriya Izuku. Let’s see how the master manipulator plays this game of chess, shall we?

Izuku’s plan: Reach out to villains and try to save them.

AFO’s counter: Kill off those who turn their back against villainy and/or acknowledge Izuku as a true hero.

Izuku’s resulting response: Stop reaching out to villains. Gain an instant victory and move on.

After all, what do you get when you block a hero from showing sympathy? You get an unfeeling living weapon.

---

Izuku’s plan: Work with the top pro heroes to bring down AFO.

AFO’s counter: Make plans that will serve to highlight how the top pros are just slowing Izuku down. (e.g. Making moves while it’s raining, so as to divide them, but also to bring out No. 1 Hero Endeavor’s "slowness" in the rain. Nope, I don’t think that’s a throwaway line at all.)

Izuku’s resulting response: Grows more reckless, often leading the charge.

---

Izuku’s plan: Track AFO down.

AFO’s counter: Lead them to dead-ends. Or when they do supposedly reach something, endanger them.

Izuku’s resulting response: His tunnel vision worsens, as he grows more desperate.

---

Izuku’s plan: All Might following him around is okay since it would help All Might from worrying so much, and Izuku could simultaneously keep an eye on and protect All Might.

AFO’s counters: There are a lot to really fuck with this bond, damn you AFO.

Taint that passing the torch memory of ‘You’re Next.’

Declare that All Might no longer interests him. Liar. He outright stated before that he’s one for keeping a grudge

Send another assassin to Izuku [Underlying Message: You yourself are a walking danger zone to those whom you dearly care for.]

Izuku’s resulting response:

Interpret that memory of ‘You’re Next’ as taking up the position of being AFO’s shiny new plaything, and therefore supposedly sparing All Might from the torment (Unfortunately, making Izuku push AM away is just part of the torment ;A;)

Think that AM is no longer in the direct line of fire as long as AFO focuses on Izuku

Finally, push his last line of morale support away, and completely isolate himself.

Btw, I wonder how All Might feels about Izuku using Nana's quirk to get away from him.

---

The suffering doesn’t end.

Izuku’s plan: Save people.

AFO’s counters: (possibly offscreen) Send more villains and assassins to torment Izuku some more with the knowledge that he can’t save them. Sending villains out also puts innocents in danger.

Izuku’s resulting response: He won’t stop for anything. He won’t sleep, won’t eat, won’t slow down. He will always do his best to save as long as someone is in danger.

His body will keep on moving and moving and MOVING on its own.

--- All For One is very effective as a supervillain. He has managed to make the heroes think that his only goal is to capture Izuku alive for his quirk. He has Izuku right where he wants him: dancing to his tune at the palm of his hand, utterly toyed with, left with no escape in sight.

Psychologically vaulted.

.

.

.

PHASE 3

And so, if Izuku is being manipulated to drive himself further and further into self-destruction, what then is there left for All For One to do?

So much more. Because, my god, I think AFO has mastered the art of traumatizing the OFA Holders.

All For One once told All Might, “I will destroy all that you’ve protected.” And boy, is he delivering. He's definitely not done with AM btw.

First, he destroys All Might's image. And he is manipulating Izuku to drive himself to that point. To looking into his absolute worst.

And when that point arrives, AFO will hammer the final nail home.

Something like...

BEHOLD

JAPAN’S SYMBOL OF PEACE.

And oh, how it'll hurt. To see All Might's pride and joy be flaunted about as looking nothing like a hero to the masses, for him to be so utterly humiliated.

"See what I did to All Might's successor."

AFO will be banking upon the possibility that the angry masses will not want to be saved by whom they're tricked into viewing as someone that's the cause of all the pain. Izuku might have the willpower to stay true to his resolve, but with him on the verge of total breakdown, what would happen when he is shunned by the very people he is trying to help?

I once wrote a post about how the current events seem to be a bastardization of Izuku's wildest fantasies: he's working with the top pros, he has the most powerful quirk, and he's working with All Might (whom technically acts as a sidekick to him rn).

AFO has warped all that into a never-ending nightmare. And Izuku...

Izuku is really in need of saving.

Last thoughts:

Let me just say that it shouldn't be a competition about who gets to get through to Izuku. Right now, he’s gonna need all the help he can get, and it can’t be delivered by only one or two people. Saving Izuku is going to be a team effort, a solid support system that sees Izuku as their classmate/friend/student/actual person that they care about. And there’s sufficient space for that.

More hands reaching out means more chances to catch him if he falls.

[atrodonna]

You seem really neat :) Do you have any personal headcanons, thoughts, theories, etc. about Nikolai?

Oh! Well, thank you! To be complimented and asked for my thoughts about something with your extraordinary talent is… surreal. Your writing is incredibly admirable. But, anyways, thank you!

As for Nikolai…

I don’t really have many headcanons for him, as I try to think more about the characters’ more… evidently, or at least with what I can comprehend from the author’s display of them. I only have this:

- is currently looking for someone to “surprise” with his magic tricks since Fyodor just shrugs them off or stares with no reaction whatsoever. He doesn’t mind that too much though

- actually very calm and quiet when he is by himself; more room to ponder, y’know?

- likely sews his own clothes

- poor thing laughs at his own jokes; no one else finds them funny or even fit for the comedic genre.

- hit him with one good logical argument as into why his idea of freedom is complete bogus and he will start pulling at any particular string of fact he knows to protect his own insecurity. In a goofy, silly manner…

- wants to be understood more than anything, as we have already seen

- alone and homeless as a child… maybe

- ask him if Fyodor is a good person and he’ll stop, stare and then start: “Sure!”

- very sensitive. Not as much as Fyodor but still pretty sensitive

Now my opinions on his character…ah, I have so much to say still, I’ll keep it to the point. I see him as a much more interesting version of Dazai, with a little more unique depth to his soul.

He saddens me a lot, because seeing the glimpse of his true personality and how wonderful of a man he is, it hurts for me to know that those are the very things he hates the most about himself. His whole “doing out of spite” motif is also destructive, for him and for others, but mainly him, I’d argue; in that sense, he’s a lot like Fyodor: they both hate the world and seek means to amend it, either through themselves or through others. I also don’t think he knows what it truly means to be a monster…

I also see a lot of underlying hints toward a belief that Nikolai worships Fyodor and yet, I don’t think I can agree with that. Attached is the word I would prefer. I also think that both of them are terrible friends but please, by no means think that I do not appreciate their connection to one another; rather, I’m envious they could still find one another and form a bond despite their current situations.

Honestly, anything I would have analyzed or theorized has already been said, and I don’t believe in a “new” way when the correct one has already been found so… yeah! :)

Sorrow is ripping him apart, however. Nikolai is not a very self-aware person either, as some think he is - though he is definitely more “aware” of his existence than most, the fact he wants to be rid of himself is much more proof that he never fully understood what being a “self” even is. He’s placed himself in a paradox only because he is not willing to love and allow himself to see the strengths in his humanity, so he resolves to burn it. This is not the way to go about it, and the methods he chose to “kill” those feelings in Meursault is even more disgraceful and wicked than anything else he has done before; that is where his true “monster” lies. He’s my purest source of sunshine and happiness though, and I would protect this sweet little guy from anything.

I think that’s all. I do hope to explore his character more in my writing, though, so this may not even be all I think I feel about him. Thank you so much for your interest, dear! Best regards!

[moravincitomnia]

Maat

I decided to share all my notes which im making on Egpytology with you guys because i dont know if im the only one but sometimes the info on egyptology is all over the place, so i hope you enjoy and after this one the next one will be about how the world was viewd in egpytian mythology: 

Maat which is also known as ma’at or mꜣꜥt in Egyptian it’s both a belief but also a Goddess, in both ways it signifies law, balance, harmony, morality, justice and peace. In Mythology maat was seen as the moral code for both humans and nature, you followed it if you wanted happiness and essentially life. Back then Egyptians saw Pharaohs as the human maintainers of maat because they were believed to have been the son of various deities so he would be their representative making sure maat was being followed throughout the kingdom. Maat as a belief was said to have been created at the creation of the world and it was a way to help the world identify chaos. There’s various deities that are gods of natrual forcees and the myths are supposed to represent how the world should be functioning and the reward of life itself. The earliest surviving evidence of Maat being the norm is from 2375BCE to 2345BCE in the Pyramid Texts of Unas in the Old Kingdom. Later on when goddess’s were paired with god’s hers was Thoth because their attributes were very similar but in some accounts Thoth was paired with Seshat the goddess of writing and measure. After her role in creation and stopping the world from turning into chaos she took a primary role in the Weighing of Hearts which happened in the Duat. Her feather would determine if a soul was worthy to reach paradise or not. From the 18th Dynasty Maat was also seen as the daughter of Ra which showed that the Pharaohs were believed to rule through her authority.

As a goddess Maat was the goddess of truth, harmony and justice. She was symbolised with wings on each arm or as a woman with an ostrich feather on her head. The meaning of the symbols are unclear in the myths but Shu who was considered her brother also wore them. Ra came from the primeaval mound of creation only when he set his daughter Maat into the place of  ‘isfet’ which means chaos. Kings then would inherit the duty of making sure she remained there and with Ra they were said to “live on Maat”. Ahkenaten emphasised it so much that his people viewed it as fantacism and intolerance. Some kings though incorperated Maat’s name into theirs with names like “Lords of Maat” or Meri-Maat (Beloved of Maat).

Maat as a principle told people to act with honor and truth in all situations including family, environment, community, nation and god. As a princple people think it was formed to meet the complex needs of the Egyptian state which welcomed people with conflicting interests. It was supposed to stop chaos and eventually even became Egyptian Law. Maat developed to a point that it embraced all aspects of existence, the relationship between consitutent parts, the cycle of the seasons, religious observations, good faith, honesty, truthfulness and social interactions. Ancient Egyptians had a deep need to have underlying holiness and unity within the universe and cosmic harmony was said to be achieved by correct public and ritual life set by Maat. Any disturbance of it was said to have consequences for not just the individual but for the kingdom as well. There’s also the concept of isfet which is of course chaos, lies and violence. There was also other principles added like following tradition, the importance of persuassion, impartiality(aka no prejudice in justice) and doing righteous actions. To Egyptians Maat bounded everything together in the universe. A passage from the Instruction of Ptanhotep presents Maat as follows:

“Maat is good and it’s worth lasting,

It has not been distrubed since the day of it’s creator,

Whereas he who transgresses its ordinance is punished.

It lies as a path in front of even of him who knows nothing.

Wrongdoing has never yet brought its venture to port.

It is true that evil may gain wealth but the strength of truth is that it lasts,

A man can say ‘it was the property of my father’.”

Not much is found in literature about how it was practiced in law other than Maat was there in spirit and from the 5th Dynasty onwards a vizer (a high ranking political advisor or minister) was called the Priest of Maat and even wore images of her to show they were responisble for justice. There’s also the Sebayt (pharanoic interpretations/literature) which later scholars and philosophers embodied concepts from and it was filled with spiritual texts on how common social and professional situations were dealt with and how each was best to be resolved or addressed in the spirit of Maat. It was very practical and case-based so only a few specific and general rule scould be derived from them. During the time the Greeks came to Egypt Greek law existed alongside Egyptian law which preserved the rights of women being allowed to be independent from men and own propery which also influenced the most restrive conventions of the Greeks and Romans.

Maat also had temples and the earliest one that was recorded was in the New Kingdom era from Amenhotep III in the Karnak complex and there is textual evidence that suggests other temples of Maat were around Memphis and Deir el-Medina. The temple in Karnak was also used by courts to meet to discuss the robberies of royal tombs during the rule of Ramesses IX. In the Papyrus of Ani (also known as The Coming Forth By Day) the lines were often collectively called the 42 declorations of purity where people would write down things to appease Maat and they thought through the power of writing down about how they did no wrongs in their life that it would wipe away anything wrong they did do away from their afterlife. It would also include their own personal practices in their lives to please Maat. The doctrine of Maat is represented in the declorations to Rekhti-Merti-f-ent-Maat and the 42 negative confessions listed in the papyrus of Ani.

Annnd that’s all the notes I have, I’ll go more in depth of her part in the weighing of hearts when I get to that topic, this was just meant to be all about Maat both as a concept and as a goddess. I hope you enjoyed! 

Edit: ffs why doesn’t it show up when u write Maat in Egyptian 💀