#so I'll summarize quickly

[sophiegoose]

Me, sitting in the theater watching Transformers ONE after spending over a decade watching the live action films:

[maximumzombiecreator]

Since I've had a few people asking about megadungeon stuff recently, and I am an avowed megadungeon megafan, I thought it might be fun to walk through an actual example of megadungeon play that exemplifies what I like best about it.

This post is going to be the first in a series talking about a room from a megadungeon that I ran over 20 years ago (brushing past that fact quickly lest the horrors set in.) It was a major room, probably the most complex and important in the dungeon, and the players passed through it frequently throughout the campaign. In this post I'll introduce you to the room, and then in later posts I'll talk about what it does well and how to use that lesson more generally. Below the cut is a reproduction of the map as I remember it.

Without getting into The Lore too deeply, some dwarves accidentally dug into hell, as one does. Classic trope, nothing wrong with using them. They quite sensibly shut the mine down and sealed if off, but word got out. A human king heard about this, and took over the mine, expanding it into a temple complex to curry favour / barter with hell. It went badly, as such things do.

This concourse connects several wings of the dungeon, spanning several floors. An enormous devil face statue emerges from the northern wall, above the second floor balcony and below the fourth, and a column of light shines through a hole in the ceiling onto the center of the floor. Several floors of balconies overlook the chamber, though the stairs to the fourth floor balcony have long since collapsed.

This chamber was not too far from the main entrance, with the party first encountering it on their second delve into the dungeon, though it would take two more delves for them to gather the courage to enter it. At the time they first encountered it, it was swarming with imps and other little devils worshipping the big face.

I'll summarize the key:

A. Hallway from the Entry Chambers, the first and easiest section of the dungeon.

B. Doorway to the Pilgrim's City.

C. Doorway to the Unholiest of Unholies. Sealed and warded against simple spells.

D. Doorway to the Old Dwarven Quarters.

E. Doorway to the Nobles' Section. Barred from the far side.

F. Portcullis to the Pilgrim's City. The mechanism has rusted out and no longer functions.

G. Doorway to the Halls of the Clergy.

H. Doorway from the King's Inner Sanctum.

I. Doorway to the Archive.

J. Doorway to the King's Inner Sanctum, locked.

K. Doorway to The Indulgences.

Stairway from floor 1 to floor 2.

Light from the hole in the ceiling.

Broken stairs from floor 2 to floor 4.

Big ole devil face. Its eyes are a one-way illusion, allowing anyone within the face to view the room below.

Okay that's a lot, thanks for sticking it out. While I don't want to wander too far off topic into the rest of the dungeon, I'll just briefly note that the Pilgrim's City and Old Dwarven Quarters are easier sections of the dungeon, the Nobles Section and Halls of the Clergy are slightly more difficult, the King's Inner Sanctum, Archive, and Indulgences are very dangerous, and the Unholiest of Unholies is, as one might expect, where the worst things (and best loot) in the dungeon are. This was 2nd edition AD&D, so there was not a presumption of fights being balanced, and traipsing through more dangerous sections of the dungeon at lower levels wasn't uncommon. The players also understood the varying levels of danger fairly implicitly, since the custom at the time was that any time you went a level further away from whatever the ground floor was, things got more dangerous. The only exception to this is the Unholiest of Unholies and I think we can agree that when it's beyond a magically sealed door under a giant devil head the danger is telegraphed.

Next post I'll start talking about what made this room work so well in practice.

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 04

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy. 

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it. 

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him. 

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm. 

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber. 

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Navigation — Part 03 | Part 04 | Part 05

[slut4b1ls]

—TAKE IT

BILLIE EILISH X F!READER

summary: Blunt request turning into going straight to the point…

Billie was your crush since you first saw her at one of your guy bsfs parties. You two have talked before, but it never went anywhere further, you haven’t made any obvious moves towards her. You decided to break the ice between you two the next time you would saw her. You knew she was a really cold but at the same time bold person, and you heard an awful lot about her. She’s known for being really popular with the girls and you found it truly interesting how effortlessly intimidating she was with every girl she talked to. She wasn’t a relationship kind of girl though, could be summarized as just often casual fucks she preferred.

The next time you saw her was at another one of your friends house parties. As you entered his home, first thing you saw was billie sitting on the couch smoking a blunt on her own. You made eye contact with her but quickly looked away to greet the host of the party who let you in.

Next thing you knew, you were approaching Billie to ask her for a smoke. You leaned slightly towards her and looked into her eyes innocently "Hi. You have another one of these to spear?" Billie looked at you and without taking her eyes off of you, she handed you the blunt, not getting up from her seat. She took a drag and passes it to you with a cold, almost bored expression on her face. "Here. Take it. And stop leaning over me like that."

You smiled lightly as you heard what Billie said. You knew the game she played and the start she gave you couldn’t be better. You took the blunt from her, took a puff and decided to play along in order to accomplish your plan. "What? Do I make you nervous?" Billie rolled her eyes and huffed at your comment. "Just because I'm into girls doesn't mean I'm not capable of turning down someone like you." She looked at her blunt now being between your fingers and added "You're welcome." The smoke left a heavy scent in the air, causing you to cough slightly.

"Mhm.. sure.." You said playfully as the weed started to kick in and you sat right next to her on the couch. Billie looked at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. She took the blunt from you and took another drag before handing the it back to you. Her leg brushes against yours as she leaned back against the couch, clearly not trying to hide her dominance. "What do you want, huh? If it's attention, I can give you that. But don't expect anything else." Her voice was low and husky, almost daring you to challenge her.

"Oh you’re that easy to get?" you said smiling towards her. Billir smirked back at you, her dark eyes glinted with amusement. She took another drag of the blunt and exhaled slowly. "Am I? Well, I'm not the one who's going to end up on their knees tonight." Her voice was like a low growl, and she let her leg brush against yours again, this time more suggestively.

"Is that what you wish will happen?" you answered trying to keep your cool and not show how Billie’s words were working on you. She chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with lust. She leaned forward slightly, her breasts pressing against your shoulder. "Maybe I'll make that wish come true. I can take what I want."

a/n: hellooo, I was gone for so long but I’m back. Quickly wrote this for you, let me know if you like it!!! If you have any ideas on what I can write next, leave it in my inbox. I love youu

masterlist.

[noellevanious]

heeyy so! my birthday is tomorrow!!! :D I'll be 28!

In lieu of anybody getting me any gifts or games or anything, I'd appreciate ahh. any financial help I can get 👍

Link to my Ko-fi

Big explanation below the cut, but basically - still no job, and I could very well be homeless soon. It's not an immediate threat, but I'm trying to prepare for the worst case scenario, and any money anybody gives/sends me will be going to moving.

There's no goal or anything, this isn't urgent, but I still need a bit of support, and since I don't like just asking for money and giving nothing in return, if you send me anything (above like $3) and mention it in the note, I'll either

Draw you a little doodle, or

Provide a personal NSFW image (to get an idea, check out my nsfw blog, @noellenescent).

There are definitely people that need/deserve the support more, and like I said, not urgent right now, but anything is appreciated!

(If reblogs are off, assume I'm not taking anything else/got the support I needed!)

So to summarize - if you remember my post from ~4 months ago, I'm still out of a job (I'm starting one soon but it barely pays more than unemployment right now), and my housing situation is getting worse, and may very well be nonexistent soon. We have no heat/hot water and live in New England so... yeah. Also the homeowner is trying to evict us (unsucessfully, as we technically own the house too). Combine this with being trapped in a city with no real friend or family networks, and you can see how this might fucking suck ass for me.

I'm planning on moving hopefully soon, and while I do have some money, that could all disappear very quickly should something happen to my car, or should I need to actually move in.

[ao3topshipsbracket]

honestly I'm kinda disappointed all the popular/well known ships are gone/eliminated

the semis look kinda boring now tbh

(ps: I don't mean to hate on the ships winning. I'm sure they're winning for a reason. it's just they're all kinda unknown/not mainstream)

We're definitely surprised to see some of the highly seeded ships go down early, but personally, I think that makes the remaining matches more exciting, not less! Who doesn't love an upset, after all? But of course, with Bubbline in one half and Destiel in the other, there are definitely some significant heavy hitters still in the running!

That being said, we know we have some underdog semifinalists that people are less familiar with, so here's a brief primer on each of them!

Hualian comes from the Chinese novel Tian Guan Ci Fu, or Heaven Official's Blessing. If you've heard of Wangxian of Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed fame, TGCF comes from the same author. It is a xianxia love story about ghost kings and fallen gods. Here's the plot synopsis from IMDB:

Eight hundred years ago, Xie Lian was the Crown Prince of the Xian Le kingdom. He was loved by his citizens and was considered the darling of the world. He ascended to the Heavens at a young age; however, due to unfortunate circumstances, was quickly banished back to the mortal realm. Years later, he ascends again, only to be banished again a few minutes after his ascension. Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian ascends to the Heavens for the third time as the laughing stock among all three realms. On his first task as a god thrice ascended, he meets a mysterious demon who rules the ghosts and terrifies the Heavens, yet, unbeknownst to Xie Lian, this demon king has been paying attention to him for a very, very long time.

At #58 in the Tumblr 2023 top ship list, they're solidly middle of the pack in terms of seeding, but they did take down Buddie at #10, and Davekat of Homestuck infamy: a very impressive showing!

Sulemio hails from the latest installment in the Mobile Suit Gundam anime franchise, The Witch from Mercury; as with all Gundam series, it is a sci-fi military drama featuring giant robots and space warfare. This one happens to also feature heavy inspiration from Revolutionary Girl Utena. Official synopses seem a bit lacking, and I unfortunately don't know enough about the series to summarize it myself, but I'll link this very helpful guide that someone left in our notes!

They're the lowest seeded of our semifinalists, ranking #59 on Tumblr's 2023 top ship list, so the fact that they've taken out the top seed is truly a feat; having a rallying force with @demilypyro has certainly helped their cause (and our very busy activity feed 😅) a great deal!

Regardless of who wins the next rounds, there are very fun underdog journeys present on both sides of the bracket. Plus, it's always good to remember that polls like these are not meant to be indicators of popularity, but of passion.

[bouncybongfairy]

Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice. 

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen. 

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester. 

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away. 

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training. 

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice. 

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms. 

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted. 

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. 

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up. 

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying. 

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize. 

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk. 

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off  and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down.. 

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum. 

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core. 

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall  over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

[redjademilktea]

Last night's episode of 4 Sided Dive was absolutely wonderful in terms of the amount of insight and perspective we got. Not only the Crown Keepers interlude, but also for campaign 3's themes as a whole.

Specifically what fascinated me though, was the incredible analogy Aimee drew between the Ruidian culture and colonial influence on indigenous/colonized spaces in real life (around the 1h32m mark for reference). It was amazing question to ask and I'll love Aimee endlessly for it because it touches on am interesting parallel between the discourse surrounding the Exandiran gods and what they thematically can represent to us as an audience.

Before I dive into my thoughts, I want to preface this by saying this is my specific perspective as a queer woman of color and daughter of a refugee. While my year-5-in-a-PhD-program brain may just be over analyzing this too much, what Aimee brought up just deeply resonated with me in a way that I don't really see talked about in discussions around the themes of campaign 3. Additionally, the ideas I'll be talking about borrow heavily from Christine Taitano DeLisle's Placental Politics: CHamoru Women, White Womanhood, and Indigeneity under U.S. Colonialism in Guam (2023). Its an incredible piece on indigenous knowledge production and political action that importantly looks to decenter colonial perspectives and history (and more importantly recenter indigenous histories, knowledge, and perspectives in a way that allows us to dislodge the idea that colonialism is something that is immutable and inevitable.)

To quickly summarize Aimee's point/follow up question, she pointed out that the way Ruidians have engaged with, repurposed, and were resentful towards Exandrian cultures mirrors some of the real life experiences of colonized/marginalized communities in relation to colonialism. It was such a powerful comparison to make because in a lot of ways, the struggle of the Ruidian people over the course of the campaign along with the looming question about the gods and whether or not to save them is (intentional or not) deeply resonant with the idea of colonialism and the ways it is deeply ingrained in the even mundane aspects of our life.

In a lot of ways, the Exandrian pantheon can be seen as a colonial force. One that came in and displaced a preexisting order of things and entrenched itself in the new way of being it established. Ashton and Laudna have repeatedly pointed this out throughout the campaign. There was life and existence before the gods. The gods are merely a different mode of being, not the only and inevitable mode of being. Life, society, and being can and did exist without them.

And its important to recognize that aspect of the gods, because it helps us understand their motivations that much better. Aabria in her description of what Opal saw in the Spider Queen as she tried to take Opal as her champion was poignant. Opal did not see an omniscient, unknowable entity. She saw a woman. A woman who was frustrated, angry, and most importantly frightened. They keep Predathos chained away not to protect life on Exandria nor because they feel a moral obligation to do so. They are doing so because they are afraid. Their mortality is at stake. And, as Aabria keenly pointed out, their pride is as well. Every action, every move is out of self preservation. An attempt to save themselves because Predathos demonstrate that not even the gods are a permanent thing.

You'll find (as Anne Stoler writes about frequently) that colonial systems are much the same. They are vehemently intent on self preservation. Any action they undertake and any narrative they create about themselves is solely done to preserve the way things are currently. And that includes narratives that the way things are currently is somehow inevitable. That things were always coming to this moment. Often, this is done at the expense of framing other modes of being as somehow antithetical to the way things are now. That it needs to be this way. And that this way is right and forever.

To me, its important to recognize these parallels. While Ruidians may engage with, adapt, and innovate off of Exandrian ideas, culture, and art, it is only because - as Aimee aptly phrased it - Exandrian culture as a direct result of the gods actions has "sucked all the air out" everything. What is there to engage with, if not the looming orb in the sky that has shaped every aspect of their existence?

It really brings the campaign-wide question of "should we save the gods?" into new light, at least in my opinion. Because its suddenly not about "saving the gods in a morally righteous act to preserve all life." It becomes a layered and complicated network of issues that makes the answer to that question incredibly difficult to answer. Is preserving the status quo because its how things operate now worth it at the expense of the suffering of others? What would saving the gods and the Ruidians look like? Is it even possible to save both? What changes to how things operate would be a result of that? How would those changes be handled?

I bring this up because there is a tendency in some discourse that I've seen to frame questioning the validity of saving the gods as inherently the "wrong" choice to make. When instead, when you see the cast struggling over the question, its because the answer is not straight forward. The gods are not necessary for life. They never were. They just are necessary for life the way things are now. And the question of what disrupting that means is such a fascinating one to engage with.

[phopollo]

Have you posted about GB, Dinah and Electra’s backstory in the cartoon verse yet? If not have you got one yet??

I'm sure I've talked about them in passing! And I've also avtuslly got a couple more asks in my ask box about them-- I hope you won't be offended that I'm not sharing them in depth rn though, theyre actually kind of exhausting to talk about in a single big long post rather than conversing about them

I've put so much thought and depth into everyone that I can't really quickly summarize any of them without feelint like key and importsnt information is missing. But I'll try!

Greaseball

Built and raised by an former racer who was on his way to being a champion. He's a massive jerk. She has an older brother. He tried to live vicariously through her, her brother was never good enough. She was pushed up to the point where she became the world championship racer before most rolling stock her age had even started working. Brother snapped and ran away. Between that and continued pushing from her father she transfered to the station the story takes place in to get away from him, where shes been since

Dinah

Dinah & Buffy were raised by an single mom who did not know she was going to be a single mom. Very much a Super Mom(tm) to them. But she had been built with some extremely low quality parts that started deteriorating and it was too late by the time it was caught, so she ended up getting scrapped while Dinah was still very young. Dinah got transfered to the station the story takes place at shortly after, Buffy did not. Momma saw this sweet little baby girl and said "you're mine now actually." Dinah has been here with an evergrowing family since, because Momma can't stop taking in strays

Electra

I actually just talked a little about them haha, you can look at that here! Other important information includes that theyre factory built, Purse & Krupp were hired to work under them before they were even finished being built by Electra's former company, and Electra did what they were supposed to for about 4 years before they got too bored and broke off on their own (w/ Purse & Krupp in tow) to pursue racing

[jackhues]

Now I can’t get Luke’s friends flirting with youngest!hughes out of my head… like I know me and my older brother fight all the time but the second one of his friends flirts all my brothers are ready to throw hands

ohh, i love this!! using ethan edwards and luke as the brother and bestie (should i make this a new au?)

you pulled a chair from the dining room, using it to climb up onto the table.

gripping the top of the fridge for support, you leaned over to grab a pack of pasta and a can of pasta sauce.

"don't fall, sweet cheeks."

ethan's voice caused to jump, nearly banging your head on the cupboard and almost dropping the pasta.

"ethan, you asshole," you muttered. "can't you see i'm in a dangerous position? stop being annoying."

"stop calling her sweet cheeks," luke added. "that's gross."

you rolled your eyes at the two boys' banter, climbing down from the countertop.

"here, let me help," ethan held out a hand, helping you climb off the counter, before putting away the chair you grabbed earlier.

"thank you, eddy," you smiled, before glaring at your brother. "unlike some people, those related to me by blood, you helped me out."

"anytime, sweets."

"okay, that's enough," luke said, quickly stepping in between you two. "none of that. not in here. y/n, leave the kitchen."

"what? no," you held up the packet of pasta. "i'm making my dinner. you leave."

"but-"

"you're the one who has a problem with ethan and i-"

"ethan and you?" jack repeated, entering the kitchen, pointing between the two of you. "is that a thing?"

"it's not-"

"-oh it's definitely a thing," ethan said, putting a hand over your shoulder.

"stop that, stop that," luke walked between the two of you, dragging a laughing ethan out of the room.

jack glared at him, following the duo to try and 'intimidate' ethan.

it wouldn't make a difference. ethan had been around too long, he was immune to their threats.

"are you making pasta?" quinn asked, entering the kitchen, shaking you out of your thoughts.

you nodded.

"okay cool. make me some."

"no."

"i want the sauce mixed with the pasta, not poured on top."

"do you want cheese too?"

"obviously," quinn said. he motioned to the door that luke and jack dragged ethan out of. "what's going on with those three?"

"ethan was being nice to me, and luke thought it was flirting, so the two dumb butts are trying to intimidate him," you summarized. "they're so stupid."

quinn nodded slowly, "on an unrelated note, i'll be back."

you watched him head towards the boys, sighing to yourself.

idiots, they were all idiots.

[clemelntine]

They did it again

Fadel and Style had sex in an abandoned building in the woods and I have never been sane about anything in my life ever, so here are my thoughts and interpretations of that.

Thoughts on the storage room sex and fantasies we saw from FadelStyle in ep 2 and 3

Before we start, I know I'm a bit late. So if you've forgotten this episode, allow me to quickly promote @airenyah and the beautiful summary and analysis she made of Fadel Styles' little journey in episode 4.

Before their sex scene this episode we once again get two scenes that show what each of them wants (or that can at least tell us something about their desires and where they stand)

Style has a sex dream that is just a montage of shots from the storage room. I thought I might find something in the specific shots they used, but its pretty much just a summary of the entire scene (a compilation of highlights, I guess). This does tell us that he liked it. If they had just shown shots from a specific action, it could have indicated that only that was enjoyable to Style. But the entire sex scene being summarized shows that, if anything, all of it was good to Style. I already said in my previous post that Styles fantasy in the host club showed that Style wanted fadel to take control and act on his own desires. This dream only confirms that more.

The dream starts with Fadel saying, "If you want it, I'll give it to you." Which was what he said right before he kissed Style. It makes sense, since it started the sex, now it starts the memory of it. But they could have also started it with Style asking if Fadel doesn't like him a little bit, like the cut in the trailer, or have no words in it at all. Style specifically remembering these words and tying them to the sex in his memory/mind indicate that Style was aware that there weren't that many feelings involved. Fadels words made it sound like he is giving in for the sake of Style, not for anything he wants (maybe to put up a wall, plausible deny ability, or maybe cuz that was part of Fadels motivation). Style knows that and will spend the rest of the episode trying to change their relationship, to also be romantic. I also think (and have said in my previous post) that Style was kind of into the idea of Fadel doing it for him, but that's besides the point.

At first, he seems pretty content, it was a good dream, but after he's woken up and he looks down, there is a look of slight shock and surprise, and he curses. He clearly didn't expect he would be so attracted to Fadel. Didn't think it would affect him this much. I don't doubt that he is aware of his feelings and his attraction, but I think he at least thought he was in control of it. He knew he liked Fadel but didn't expect this to creep up to him like that to make him feel things when he wasn't conscious/aware.

Not technically a fantasy, but Fadel cutting Styles shirt in the kitchen does tell us some things.

In this scene, Fadel is reminded of the lack of control he has over his emotions (just like Style earlier in the morning). Style brings to his attention that Fadel missed Style. This is no new information to Fadel, but for it to be called out like that startles him, brings up his fight or flight a little as he bites back by saying Style is annoying. But Style doesn't back down. He claims that he knows Fadel likes it when Style messes with him. I do think this might have been slightly new information to Fadel. He might have been hiding behind his attraction to Styles body to stop himself from having to admit he likes his personality.

Because that is imidiatly where he takes it. He points the attention back to Styles body by laying him down on the table and cutting his shirt. This is also a sort of response to Style saying he needs to let go of the control. He can't do that yet, just like he can't admit to liking Style on a lever deeper than sex, or at least he won't allow himself. He goes to attack Style, to try and prove him wrong, but also indulge himself a bit. He finds Style hot, and I don't doubt he loved seeing Style laying on the counter like that. Eyes closed full trust in Fadel and very vulnerable. So he challenges that trust by laying scissors on his stomach, no reaction. Style wasn't bluffing when he said he wasn't scared of Fadel. So Fadel goes on, cuts, and then swiftly rips open Styles shirt, a counterattack to the way Style so quickly bared Fadels secrets (and heart, like ripping open his chest).

Style seems to be into it though, a big smile plastered across his face. This is the exact type of stuff we've seen he likes, Fadel acting on his own accord and responding to Style. Most of Styles teasing is to get a reaction out of Fadel, and this is one heck of a reaction. It might not have been Fadel letting go of control like he initially wanted, but it is progress, and Style doesn't mind it (we'll get to losing control later in the episode, of course). And once again, Style places his hands on Fadel in an encouraging way. Not exactly holding Fadel down, but signaling that he wants him close.

And that is what finally brings us to the woods. As soon as Fadel dragged Style away from the meeting, I wondered if they were really going to have sex again. Even considered Fadel might be into whatever that is. But then he decided to drive Style (who willingly got into the car, that man's trust surprises me every episode) to the middle of nowhere and just leave him. I don't think he had any ill intent. He probably just wanted to scare Style, but that clearly didn't work. Style even said: I know you're going to kill me, but I'm not scared. And I believe him. He continuously sees that Fadel is dangerous and capable of harm but continues to return every time.

Style initiates the kiss. He had previously let Fadel take control cause he wanted to do/see what Fadel wanted. Because although Style might have been very annoying and provocative, he does seem to know and understand the vulnerability that comes with sex. He even points out multiple times that he doesn't want a one night stand and isn't the type of person to just bang and bail. Style knows and feels the connection that sex creates and requires. So Style is scared of taking that too far with Fadel, and he had been letting Fadel do what he wanted. But in the woods, Style just got verbal confirmation that the thing Fadel wants is Style. It might not have been direct, but what Fadel said is as much of a confession as Style will need, and he finally takes the liberty to make the firsts move, to be active.

(Also I realize the kisses in the locker room were initiated by Style but because those weren't really with the intentions of going anywhere and were more to tease Fadel and test the waters, I didn't include them I this conversation. This was also before Style developed a genuine interest in Fadel)

This is also a big change for Fadel. So far, he had been the one to act during their intercourse. It was a way to take control of the situation (but also, as @nnnn99999 pointed out in this post, it gave space for him to slip up. He was able to do anything and let himself go, got too into it, still inevitably lost control). Framing the sex as being for Style might also have been a way for Fadel to distance himself from it slightly. View it as just an act, a service to be given out. It couldn't all have been for Style, though. There were too many kisses placed along his skin to convince me of that. Fadel likes Style, and he likes making him happy/satisfied.

But now it was Styles' turn, and we immediately see parallels as well as differences. @secriden already documented and showed these really well in this post (the side by side screenshots really help visualize it better).

The similarity in hand placement (both of them placing a hand on the others jaw/neck during the first kiss if the scenes) might be Style mirroring what Fadel did. A strategy often used to build connection. But I doubt Style knows of this or even thought if it during this time (although it might still have had the same effect on Fadel). I assume Style held Fadels face like that, two hands with one behind his neck, to keep him in place or position him better. Fadel having the same intentions when he did it as well (and maybe a slight choking kink, who knows).

Both of the scenes are bathed in blue lighting, which often signifies coldness. And although that makes sense for their first time in the storage room (them not really connecting emotionally), it doesn't fit the scene in the abandoned building very well. This cold can, however, also be a calm feeling. This could signify that in the abandoned building, they are at ease. After the high tension confession, Style settles the mood by telling Fadel that it is okay to love, and it makes them both feel more comfortable. After that, their blue lighting no longer shows their emotional distance but their content feelings. The singular light illuminating them from above also creates a feeling of intimacy.

After Fadel kisses him, instead of sitting back and letting him do what he wants, Style decides to take the upper hand and initiate once again. He first lifts Fadels shirt, swiftly caresses the skin under it, and them moves quickly down to his pants. Style puts his hand in Fadels pants and does so with a very watchful eye. He observes Fadel and tries to keep as much eye contact as he can, a direct contrast with Fadel in the first scene who focused all of his attention on burying his face in Styles skin. Both are actions of desire, both show a clear interest in pleasing the other while still taking in as much satisfaction from the action for themselves as well.

Whereas Fadel kissing every inch of Styles skin shows an active determination to make him feel good (and of course enjoy Styles skin). Style looking at Fadel for the reaction he gives (something he also does when teasing Fadel, once again he wants to see what Fadel thinks, wants him to respond and go along) shows that, he this time too wants Fadel to get pleasure out of it. Last time, he thought that could be achieved by letting him do his thing (letting him use Style as a way to get to his own climax). This time, he knows Fadel likes and wants him and decides to take action into his own hands: he will be the one to make Fadel happy. And as we see by the look on Styles face, he too gets off on Fadels pleasure.

Their eye contact also indicate they have a deeper connection now. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, and after Fadels confession, they are both ready to face that.

Fadel is shocked at first. This isn't something that he would assume Style would do and isn't something he had shown to like. But as soon as the surprise wears of he gets into it. And it is finally time for Fadel to let go of control. He already gave up a lot of his control when he confessed to liking Style because a lot of the reason why Fadel felt like he had the upper hand was because Style was pursuing and following him (their interactions depended on wether Fadel went allong or not, he was able to control that). Now that he admits he likes him back, they are on even playing ground and ready to pursue each other equally. And with Style jerking him off it seems like their relationship is finally building more trust as well as being more 50/50.

Another point I liked is the focus on Fadel laying his hand on Styles hip. This is a beautiful contrast with the way his hand hovered over Styles hip when he kissed him in the locker rooms. Back in the lockerrooms he didn't trust Style yet and wasn't interested in him (at least not emotionally/romantically)

And that's why this time, at the car, when Style asks if Fadel wants to date and gives his flirty little reason, Fadel agrees. Over the course of the episode, since his sexy dream, Styles has tried to build a stronger relationship with Fadel, and it had finally come to fruition. When he now teases Fadel, he goes along, and when he shows his emotions, Fadel responds. It's like his demeanor shifts, and he realizes that Style is actually serious about wanting to date him.

I also really like how Style says specifically, "What you said to me just now, I feel the same way, y'know? This isn't just Style telling Fadel that he likes him, Style is reminding Fadel of his own feelings, affirming them. He does this a lot. He did it in the kitchen when he repeated that Fadel misses him. He did it in the storage room when pointing out that fadel likes him a little. Style is pretty good at reading people, and repeating that back to them not only acknowledges those feelings but also shows that Style cares and is putting in effort. It's also fun to see him teasing Fadel with the fact that he is easy to read because fadel doesn't want to be

There is a lot to be said about the last quarter of the episode and how knowing the truth changes Styles behavior but for that you'll have to go somewhere else. @secredin made a really good post about it.

Forgive me if this is a lil shit and reads like ass. I'm just trying to get my thoughts down on paper so I can move on. Anyways I'm finally gonna go watch episode 5 now!!

[spritesitrus]

Heyo!

What's a headcanon/story about your Koopalings, that no one has asked the right question yet, for you to tell about?

(Like, you have a headcanon about their favourite foods or something, but no one has asked about that yet)

I totally forgot to share their dynamics like long ago so quick chart I made to quickly summarize the more important dynamics (plus some extra ones)

The last one is a little joke that goes with a short fic I was writing of the Koops worrying about Jr and Larry becoming adults since enough bad things have happened to the rest of them because of lore reasons™ (the point in which this fic takes place in my timeline is when everyone's doin' good tho so nothing to worry about)

Anyways I wanted to share some little tidbits of the fic cuz why not

Also as a treat, I will share some dumb trivia for them (I did already share some of Iggy's stuff before but I'll just leave it here since I just took it from these lol ToT) and I've included Jr as well!

Cooking Skills

Ludwig- Cooking hasn't been his strong suit for a long time and prefers to not “Meddle with those affairs”(his words). 

Lemmy- He's able to cook but usually only cooks stuff he knows and never really ventures out to try new things. But he's always happy to try if it's something everyone agrees on wanting to eat. 

Morton- Used to suck but has become the best chef out of all of them. He enjoys cooking for others and always offers to do it. 

Roy- Can cook basic level things but he's not really good at it. He doesn't like waiting so sometimes it gets burnt. 

Iggy- Absolute dogshit at cooking. Do not let him near a stove unless you want something to blow up. 

Wendy- She's good at cooking but it's not something she likes doing regularly all the time. God forbid having to cook with her other siblings too, it'd just be chaos. 

Larry- Only knows how to use the michael wave.

Jr- He waits to be served.

Singing Voice (formatted this on an understanding that this is them having a karaoke night)

Ludwig- He's good at singing but I think it's one of those voices that are just decent in their own way rather than being outstanding. It's probably one of the few things Ludwig is okay about not being perfect. 

Lemmy- He's pretty tone deaf but he tries. Everyone cheers him on for his enthusiasm. 

Morton- He sings quietly but he's not actually half-bad. It's not something he really likes doing so he just lets anyone else sing if they want the mic. 

Roy- Not that great and he falsettos a lot. He probably steals the mic the most. 

Iggy- He's alright at singing but can’t reach high notes well and is quite flat. 

Wendy- The best singer out of them all. She has a powerful voice and is a showoff about it. 

Larry- His singing is quite nice but prefers rapping more. He's the type of mf who beatboxes at crazy speeds. 

Jr- He's actually pretty good at singing too but it embarrasses him the most since everyone is so enthusiastic for him when he does. 

Dance Skills

Ludwig- Only knows how to waltz because of course he does. Outside of that, he dances exactly like a dad. He makes sure to avoid Bowser during parties so the others can't compare them. 

Lemmy- A total dancing machine. He mostly likes to do break dancing and disco but can quickly pick up on other dances as well. 

Morton- Doesn't seem like someone who dances, but he will get down if the situation calls for it. 

Roy- A great dancer who always likes to show off whenever he's partying. He can breakdance, pop and lock, moonwalk, you name it, he can do it. He's also a really good teacher and teaches a dance class in his spare time. The only time he ever wanted to give up on a student was when he was teaching Iggy. 

Iggy- Can't dance for shit, like he literally has no rhythm. The only move he knows is the floss and it took the gang forever to teach him how in the first place. 

Wendy- A very graceful dancer and knows ballet. Though she's always ready to be on the dance floor too. How could she not when she and Roy are literally besties?

Larry- A pretty good dancer. He can pick up moves easily and knows how to groove. 

Jr- He tries to act too cool and cross his arms all like “Heh, I don't dance” but in reality, it's because he's embarrassed that he's a clumsy dancer. 

[arachniee]

Imagine an AU where reader fell from heaven from the sheer grief of losing Lucifer and had been living amongst the sinners for eons without him so much as knowing. And then he asks Charlie to ask about them when she goes to visit heaven and she drops that information on him. What would go through his mind?

now this was sent when i wasnt accepting requests anymore so even tho i wanted to write a fic, i'll just summarize my thoughts

i would imagine the reason that reader fell after lucifer was the fact that she may have rebelled against heaven because of his downfall. maybe she had started neglecting her duties, or worse, literally did not want to do them until they bring lucifer back to her.

of course, heaven cannot fulfill her wish so they ended up giving her a choice to join him and become a fallen angel. she didnt know what to do, she knew that lucifer was already happy with lilith, but she physically cannot be that far away from him, it hurts too much to ignore. so in the end, she chose to fall from grace just to possibly, even just a little bit, get closer to where he was.

she'd admit, the first few years of her life in this new environment was, well, hellish. But the fact that she knew lucifer was here, no matter how far, it made her feel a tad bit calmer. when charlie finally reaches heaven, asking the angels about a particular one that her father knew. and when they break the news to her, she'd be quite confused. but she'll relay the message to her father anyway, who was (clearly) excited about it.

the moment charlie spoke, the pit in his stomach grew deeper and deeper til confliction filled his every being. she was here? all along?

lucifer would be mad, not at her, but at heaven. and himself. he would blame himself for everything that she went through, before and after her fall. guilt would be creeping up quickly, tears fallings as his mind ran miles. did he hurt her that much, for her to choose to give herself up from what people referred to as paradise? he couldnt imagine the things that may have happened to her here, in hell. the kingdom which he ruled upon. him.

maybe he wouldn't tell anyone at first, but he'll look for her. it would even make his daughter worry, noticing the black, dark circles under his eyes. he hadn't been sleeping properly at all, how could he? she was all he could think about. she consumed him. consumed him in his awake, even in his dreams. she was everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. she was so close, yet so far.

he knew he'd find her, one way or another, sooner or later. and with charlie's (and the hotel's) help, he knew that he was going to see you again. but in the mean time, while he is "resting" (more like thinking about her) as per his daughter's request, he'd probably make multiple rubber ducks that he think you would like. maybe, you weren't mad at him. maybe, you'd accept him again. maybe, you could learn to love him again.

but for now, he'd be flipping hell upside down just to find you, and he's not stopping until he finds you. or maybe, until you finally decide to show yourself to him.

[olderthannetfic]

Since the f/f wank is starting up AGAIN, I'll quickly summarize it for you all so we can skip this round.

"f/f is less popular than m/m, this is bad because misogyny" "m/m is disgusting and immoral. This is somehow not a homophobic thing to say" "you are a bad person for being attracted to men" "here is a list of arbritrary things that Don't Count (readerfic, OCs, and whatever else I personally don't care for), once you discount that, there is f/f at all. This is a personal attack on me" "screw you, I'm gonna write hot guys fucking because I like penis" "f/f makes me uncomfortable for an intensely personal reason that I feel obliged to spell out in great detail so I don't get harassed. I wish people would stop harassing me for having dysphoria" "uhhh, guys, there's tons of f/f over here. It's just not on AO3" "I write f/f and it never gets comments :(" "I used to write f/f but I got yelled at because it wasn't The Right Way" "I would write f/f but I saw that other person get yelled at and now I'm scared." "guys, I found this great f/f ship in this fandom over here! there's tons of fic! come join me!"<--- met by crickets

--

*snickering*

Well, FWIW, I've just downloaded The Evidence Tells.

There are hot ladies. But terrible subtitles, I'm told.

[sagegreenfrogs]

Leola giving magic to humans out of curiosity, with no harmful intentions, but it nonetheless causing much pain, "the beginning of the end," etc, made me think about the myth of Pandora's box.

(it's a very well-known myth, but I'll summarize it quickly)

The olympians gave Pandora a box- and instructed her not to open it. She didn't... for a while. One day, she simply got too curious, and opened the box. By opening it, she unleashed horrors unto the world. Greed, madness, death, sorrow, etc. but there was something else in the box. Hope. (hope was released eventually, just much later.)

Obviously, all the awful things unleashed from Pandora's box can be easily tied to dark magic. Leola unintentionally released all of that into the world by "gifting" humans with magic. So many awful things happened due to that. However, something good did come out of that. That "hope," I believe, is Callum. He is hope. His magic is still human magic, sure, but that is only true because he's a human. It's not dark magic. He is the good thing to come out of Leola's last wish, hope out of Pandora's box.

[risuola]

VI — YOU HAVE MY HEART // F. READER x TOBIRAMA SENJU

It's so easy to love you and it's even easier to admire how hardworking you are. You trained and became strong, you assisted in creating the ANBU leading the first unit. You were the pride and joy in Tobirama's life, but with all of that came also the fear. The terror of losing you.

contents: not much, it's mostly fluffy. it gets a little steamy towards the end, so reader discretion is advised — 2,5k words

a/n: when I was translating this chapter, I realized that the timeline can be a little blurry, though I tried to make it as clear as possible, but I'll summarize this here quickly: one year has passed since the wedding until the events from chapter V, then one year she was training and working in ANBU and then the mission took another year. so it's three years since they married ❥

POLITICALLY LOVELESS || SERIES MASTERLIST

Sometimes, you felt like you and Tobirama were meant to be. Like this whole arranged, political agreement was planned somewhere by someone who has way more power than you’d think, because even after nearly three years with that man, you still find it difficult to understand how on earth you worked so well when it’s more than clear that you shouldn’t.

There were just too many differences between you and your husband. He’s cold and stoic whilst you are warm and bubbly. Your calmness doesn’t make a fraction of how calm he is, or rather, used to be. You loved to touch him and for his entire life, Senju faltered from physical contact. And yet, all of it changed, when you stepped into his life. A princess from the foreign village, a diamond that was kept in the cage made of gold and luxury, a bird that was yearning for freedom and safety. Tobirama gave you both of these things.

The feelings between you two only solidified after the incident in your homeland. It’s almost two years after the unfortunate chain of events that led the young Senju to leave the negotiations in Konoha to save you from abusive ritual that took place in Yu; a pathetic display of parenting that your father thought was a favor to your husband. After that, and the little time you needed to heal completely with a help of one of the best medics in the leaf village, you had made a decision to go back to training. Ever since you moved, you spent your time learning topography of your new home, befriending people, helping – none of which you put into your own development and it’s only after you were defeated so easily, it got to you that everything that you thought you knew was not even a fraction what you should be able to execute.

That’s why for the months after that, you trained – mostly by yourself, but Tobirama was more than happy to help you anytime he had some spare hours. He found you admirable, the way you wanted to become the best shinobi possible even though there was no need for that. You were excellent even before, the idea of you lacking never crossed his mind and yet you stood up for the challenge and it was in his best interest to help you achieve the goal. You were, after all, his beloved wife, his sunshine, his pride. Quickly, it turned out that on top of all these things, you were quite deadly.

You began taking missions, standing on top of a group consisting of the best ninja from Konoha – ANBU, as Tobirama called it. A set of exceptional individuals, the most skilled ones available. It was a project that Senju wished to finalize, it was meant to provide the village with safety, with the strong asset able to infiltrate, fight and protect and you… You became the leader of it, representing the highest skill of them all and supporting him in establishing the unit.

Tobirama found you incredible, time after time finding himself in awe because of your achievements. There was no such term as impossibility, it seemed, everything he assigned you with, you finished with success, caring about your team well-being and the quality of the process. As much as he felt the endless amount of pride, his heart was also filled with fear. The idea of losing you haunted his dreams anytime you were outside Konoha, dealing with something he himself ordered you. The contradicting feelings weighed heavy on his shoulders – he wished to keep you safe and yet, it was only fair to give you tasks that were relevant to what you were able to do. It would be against his nature to spare you the difficulties, to limit your progress only because of the selfish want of keeping you far from harm. That led him to assigning you with one of the most difficult missions he had to offer.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he had told you the day before. You remember him joining you in bed late at night and the way he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest was enough of a hint. You knew him well. “I don’t want you to take that mission,” honest as always, and nervous when he spoke quietly. His roughed-up fingertips were circling little ovals against the delicate skin over your spine, his hand buried underneath the shirt that you used to sleep in.

“I know,” you replied, pressing your lips to his bare chest. Oh, how well you knew him. The moment he gave you the details of the job earlier that day in his office, you already knew how hesitant he was and once you read the description, you understood why. “But it’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“How can you promise me something like that?” He found his way to your chin, lifting your head up just enough to look you in the eyes. “I know you are strong, you are the most skilled ninja I have, don’t think I’m underestimating you, love. But yet, I can’t help but fear, the idea of you not coming back from that job, from something I send you by my own order… it feels unbearable to think.”

Tobirama wasn’t a man that’s easily scared. In your entire time with him, spending so much time as his wife, you saw him worried at most, only few times so it shook you deeply, seeing his sincere eyes glaring at you in nothing but concern. The soft red shade of them looked straight through your soul, you could feel the way his jaw was tensed when you placed your hand on the side of his handsome face.

“I will come back to you, my lord. I know how dangerous the mission is and I would be lying if I told you that I’m not scared of it. But I also know how important it is, how crucial the data I need to gather is to keep Konoha safe and it is my duty to serve the village. It’s my home, I swore to keep it protected.” Your words were honest, Senju knew that. It was difficult, the hidden leaf stood on the verge of war, it was nearly palpable in the air and the information that you were meant to collect had a power to stop it before the blood of innocents was spilled.

The love you developed to Konoha was something Tobirama couldn’t help but admire in you. Despite it being a foreign land to you, you grew to care of it as if you lived here since the beginning. Truth is, you did feel like you were born in it. What hidden leaf gave you was freedom, was love. It showered you in things that before that, you only silently dreamt about, it was a place that you truly began being yourself, hence why you wished to give it back all of yourself.

“I know you’re gonna do your best. It’s just… I wouldn’t mind standing to fight later if you’d say you don’t want to take the job. I wouldn’t mind giving my life in battle if it could save yours.”

“Your life is too precious to be lost, Tobirama,” you leaned into him just slightly, your lips a breath away from his. “You are needed, you are so incredibly fundamental for this village to function properly, you have no idea. Without you, there would be no Konoha, doesn’t matter how great of a hokage your brother is. You are what makes this place a home to so many people, you are the mind and heart of it, so please don’t say such things.”

“It’s you who have my heart. If I have to risk losing it along with you, how could I be one for the village?” Senju exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment before closing the distance and pressing his mouth to yours. A kiss of love that’s indescribable, it bore everything that he was too afraid to word out loud. “Just… come back to me.”

“I will always come back to you, my love.”

The reassurance you gave, although carrying uncertainty, you followed with yet another kiss. The intimacy you shared later that night carried an unspoken goodbye, it was intense and oh so full of passion as if it was the last time you were to be so close.

Early in the morning, you were already gone, heading towards the unknown land where you were meant to spend the next weeks, working undercover. In the morning, Tobirama watched you leave, hating himself for letting you go as the sweet taste of the last kiss you shared still lingered over his lips.

* * *

“Later,” Tobirama groaned, responding to the soft sound of knocking against the wooden doors to his office. He was busy, digging through copious amounts of documents and reports, annoyed to the very core of his existence. His mind was already far in the future, balls deep in the upcoming negotiations that were meant to take place in Konoha in just few days. They were important, the safety of the village depended on the results and Tobirama made it very, very clear that unless the matter is absolutely, death-threatening urgent, he’s unavailable to anyone.

But the knob twisted and despite his objections and rough tone the doors opened and he couldn’t help but scoff. His blood was boiling, his brows creasing and even the deep breath he took, trying to calm down his nerves didn’t help at all. The rage inside of him burned with hellfire, it got him out of his chair, smashing his fist on the desk.

“I said fucking late—” he stopped. The sight of you, standing there in the entrance to his office made his voice catch in his throat. Was he even breathing? He felt like the world faded away, time slowed down and the chaos inside his mind calmed in an instant when his eyes met yours. He couldn’t believe, were you really here? In the last report he’s got from you, the one from a month prior, you wrote that at least twelve weeks will be needed to finalize the job and yet here you were, standing just few meters in front of him. After a year.

“I heard you the first time, my lord,” you chuckled softly, watching how his expression changed from rageful annoyance to surprised confusion. It was a display of emotions you were yet to familiarize yourself with, giving Tobirama’s spare range of expressions. “I was told you’re busy and expecting no one to bother you, but I took the freedom to disobey.”

The Senju stood there, flabbergasted for a little longer before his head dropped. A wave of laughter that shook his body made all of his tension go away. You really were there, he could see you, feel your chakra. After long, twelve months of undercover mission he gave you, the one that required you to stay in Iwagakure, gathering intel of governmental nature you finally got back. You had not seen each other during that time and Tobirama had only received few letters from you, all of which being more like short reports about the mission status rather than lover’s notes. But now, you were here, safe, alive.

“You came back,” he said, his voice so much lighter than what he greeted you with. Tobirama took a second to look at his desk, assessing the piles of documents before he pushed everything to the side. Papers flew off and scrolls unraveled on the floor but he couldn't possibly care less about any of those, when you were here, finally after a year of absence, in a flesh and bones. Being so messy was unlikely of him, you had never met someone more organized than Tobirama, but to him, it was more important to now have you on this desk, rather than documents.

“I promised I’ll come back to you, didn’t I?” You smiled, pushing the doors closed behind you and approaching him, placing the box with all of the reports and information regarding your latest work on the floor, before you circled the furniture, meeting him finally.

“You did,” he replied, finding his way to press his lips to yours. His large hands pulled you closer by the back of your neck and you hooked your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair, scratching his scalp gently and causing him to purr into the kiss. It tasted sweet, addicting, with the longing being carried through every movement of his lips and tongue. It was heavy with feelings, breathtaking, nearly suffocating with how much it bore, how many unspoken words, how many worries that were now releasing. Tobirama pulled you towards himself, your body now flush to his own as he made you lean against the edge of his desk. It took no time before you were situated on top of it, with his large frame between your legs and his hands wandering all over the lines of your figure.

Tobirama was hungry. He had no idea how much until he saw you, until he tasted you. You taught him how to love, you opened the world of intimacy and touch to him, you showed him the pleasure of marriage and once you took all of it away, he was lost. The need to have you close was unfulfilled for such a long time where he couldn’t even see you, it left him with the burn of craving inside his chest. He was incomplete without you, unable to focus as much as he would usually do, his mind was wandering to the places where your image was stored.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whimpered, feeling his lips smearing the wet traces of kisses along your neck and down your throat. At that moment, he was not caring about the marks he was leaving, he wanted to make you his own again. Nothing else mattered, only you, the taste of your mouth, the sweet scent of your skin. He would love to be more romantic, to welcome you with something more appropriate – a nice dinner, some pretty flowers, but being romantic was never his strong suit and frankly, things like bouquets and food were last on his mind, when he had you near his body.

“Love,” he groaned against your pulse, his hands making contact with the bare skin on your sides where he pushed the fabric of your black blouse up. He missed you so damn much. His body longed for your touch, for your skin flush to his, for everything that came with you.

“I thought you were busy, my dearest,” you teased, your voice soft and playful as you run your hand down his stomach. It was risky to do so in his office but he did nothing to prevent you from reaching his manhood and as you did, you stroked him gently through the fabric of his pants. A breath hitched in his chest, your touch burned him with lust, he felt like a fire was consuming him just because you put your touch over him.

“I am,” he muttered, sucking a spot onto your neck, reminding your body to whom it belongs to and you gasped softly at the feeling of his lips against your delicate skin. “God, I’m so damn busy.”

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