#weird things to airdrop

[girlinterupptedsblog]

You hear your best friend moaning your name while he is jerking off

Pairing: bsf!rafe Cameron x You

Warnings: (Explicit sexual content, Voyeurism / Non-consensual viewing, Unhealthy relationship dynamics, Slight dubcon, Obsession / Possessiveness / Tension, Best friends dynamic turning toxic, angst, build-up, and slow unraveling)

You two had been inseparable since high school. Everyone joked that you were just waiting for the right night to hook up, but you always denied it. You weren’t blind, though. Rafe was hot—too hot for his own good—and had that stupid little smirk that could make you forget every reason not to want him. But he was your best friend. It would’ve been messy. Dangerous.

Still, lately, things had started to feel different. He got... quiet around you. Intense. Eyes darker, stares longer. You’d catch him clenching his jaw when other guys texted you. And sometimes when you hugged him goodbye, there’d be this... hard pressure against your hip. One you pretended not to notice.

You knew. And he knew you knew. But neither of you said anything.

That weekend, you stayed over at his place like usual. Just you and him. It wasn't weird. You’d done it a dozen times before. His room was warm, dark, the sheets soft with that faint cologne scent that always clung to him. He slept on the far side of the bed, but neither of you really kept to your own side all night.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that Rafe hadn’t fallen asleep when you did.

He waited. Waited until your breathing evened out, slow and sweet and soft. Then he reached for your phone from the nightstand.

It was wrong. So fucking wrong. But the heat between his legs was unbearable, and his brain had stopped caring about lines or consequences. He needed something. Anything. And he was sure you had something hidden away—some little secret that might finally break him.

It didn’t take long. One folder, deep in the hidden photo album.

And there they were.

Pictures of you. Naked, spread, teasing. Poses that made his throat dry and his cock ache. But it was the video that did him in. You in your room, back arched on your bed, whispering soft moans while your fingers slid between your thighs. The way you whimpered quietly, the way your other hand squeezed your breast—he felt like he was going to fucking explode.

He didn’t think. He just airdropped it to himself. Deleted the sent history. Cleared the recents. And placed your phone back like nothing ever happened.

The next morning, you padded off to the bathroom in just one of his t-shirts, humming low as you turned on the shower. The door clicked shut. Steam started to roll under the crack.

And Rafe?

He was already in his bed, fist around his cock, screen glowing dimly in the dark as he watched you in motion. His breaths were sharp, loud—his hips jerking into his hand with a desperation that made your name slip past his lips in a broken, breathless moan.

"Fuck… you’re so perfect," he panted, voice thick and wrecked. "So fucking perfect, baby. You got no idea what you do to me…"

You froze in the shower.

The sound carried.

You could hear it.

You heard the slapping rhythm of skin, the low grunts, the way your name hit the air like he couldn’t stop himself. Your eyes widened. Breath caught in your throat.

He was touching himself.

To you.

Your heart slammed in your chest. You didn’t know whether to say something, scream, walk out—but instead, you stood there in stunned silence as the water poured over you. Your thighs clenched. Heat pooled where it shouldn’t. And your breath hitched again when you heard him choke out your name one final time, loud and raw and broken.

Then silence.

And when you came back into the room wrapped in a towel, he was lying casually in bed, phone face down on the nightstand, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t just done the filthiest thing you could imagine.

He looked at you. Smiled. “Sleep good?”

You stared at him. He looked so calm. Like he hadn’t just come all over his abs thinking about you.

“Yeah,” you replied, voice steady, like your pulse wasn’t racing. “You?”

“Out like a light.” He stretched, shirtless and smug.

Liar.

You didn’t say a word. Didn’t let him know you heard. You wanted to see how long he’d pretend. How long until he snapped. How long until the truth between you spilled out the way it wanted to.

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt 3

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k bc i'm a slut for this man SRFKLHSDLK summary: everything in your life is affected as your relationship with leehan progresses. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (male and female receiving), expressions of insecurity and self-esteem issues should you wish to read on ao3, click HERE.

At the library on a Saturday night, you, Leehan, Riwoo, and Giselle sit at the same table, studying for your approaching midterms. 

“Y/N,” says Leehan. “Can you send me the pdf file you found for the English textbook?”

You nod, quickly finding the file on your phone and airdropping it to Leehan the Lion . “Just sent it.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, before returning to writing notes on his laptop. 

This is about as exciting as your interactions get with Leehan when you’re among your group of friends, studying or going to the caf or finding some event on campus to go to. 

It was the ultimate whiplash, then, to experience Leehan when you were alone. 

Because in the month or so that’s passed since the night of the lunar eclipse, every few days you could look forward to the what are you doing? text that usually led up to some of the most satisfying, passionate sex of your life.

The friends-with-benefits arrangement the two of you were in had quickly become the center of your life. It felt like you were always in limbo as you awaited his latest text, and when you got it, it didnt’t matter what you were doing – you were always ready to surrender to him, to surrender to pleasure that was beginning to feel like the only thing that made you excited to wake up some days.

You had sex sometimes three, sometimes five times a week. Where it happened didn’t really matter to either of you — in the bathroom at a party, the confines of your dorm room, in the backseat of his car. 

Everything in your life had been shrunken to make space for what was now your top priority. 

And whatever negative impacts were to come of such decision-making were yet to be seen when it felt like the high you received from his attention was blinding everything else.

It was always weird to have to face him in settings like this the next day, to hear him speak to you so casually as if his face wasn’t buried between your legs less than 24 hours ago. Still, you kept up your end of this unspoken bargain to pretend as if you weren’t anything but acquaintances.

“I have midterms for every class. I’m feel like I’m gonna die of stress,” said Giselle, throwing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Giselle was one of the people who rode with Jaehyun during the lunar eclipse, and although you didn’t get much time to speak with her then, you’ve since gotten close by hanging out more. 

“That’s why you need to find the right vice. Food…drugs… orgasms, ” replies Leehan playfully, quirking a teasing eyebrow in her direction. He chuckles as Giselle rolls her eyes at him, and as much as you hate yourself for it, you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on her even as she returns to her textbook.

Occasionally, you’ll observe the fact that the sense of humor and charm that made you fall for Leehan in the first place is not something that he reserves for only you, and it makes you just the tiniest bit sad. 

It’s nice to feel, even if it’s not true, like the moments you share alone in your bedroom are ones where he feels safe to show you things no one else gets to see. Like you hold the key to pieces of Leehan that no one else can access. 

So in times like these where you’re presented with evidence that says otherwise, it makes you feel like there is nothing special or significant about how you and Leehan got to where you were. Perhaps it was just a case of right place right time, like he could’ve met anyone – Giselle, even –  and done the same things he’s done with you.

Then again, the interaction you just observed could’ve been completely innocent and it’s you that’s overthinking it.

At the end of the day, if you were keeping score, the fact that you’re the first person with whom Leehan has offered up his body to on a regular basis feels like more than enough evidence that what you share is special.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s gonna fuck you after this.

You know because in the hour or so later when the library is about to close and you’re wrapping up your study session, he says, “Y/N, you live near the mail center, right? I’ll walk with you; I need to drop something off before I head home.”

It takes every bit of self control you have to not break out into a smirk – he knows exactly where you live, and it’s because you fuck there almost every time. “Sure,” you reply, in the most neutral voice you can possible muster.

“See you guys later,” you’re saying to Riwoo and Giselle as you pack up your things and head out. 

It’s past midnight and almost completely dark outside by the time you and Leehan leave, save for the few street lights that illuminate the sidewalk. For no reason in particular, it’s silent between the two of you. You might’ve found such an atmosphere to be awkward if it weren’t for the fact that your dorm was only a 5 minute walk away. And, when it comes to Leehan, you can never be too presumptuous in trying to interpret his moods; being the person that he is, something you’d usually interpret as disinterest could actually mean a plethora of non-threatning things for him.

On the way there, you approach what’s essentially an alleyway, a narrow space between two dorms that is deserted and dark. You don’t think anything of it until suddenly, you’re tugged inside of it and everything in your line of sight goes dark.

And before you can ask questions or react, your senses are flooded by the feeling of Leehan’s lips pressed against yours.

It’s amazing how your body adapts to the sudden gesture before your mind does. While it takes you a moment to internally acknowledge that you’re not in danger, your skin ignites with electricity the moment his lips touch yours. 

If a bystander were to observe the passionate, needy, almost desperate way he’s kissing you, they’d think that you’re someone he hasn’t seen in years, someone who he’s eager to make up lost time with. 

He doesn’t stop at just dominating your mouth with his tongue. His hands, like calloused vines, wrap themselves around your body, setting fire to whatever pieces of exposed skin he can find. And when you whimper against him, he adds to the sound with a groan of his own.

But no, this isn’t a kiss of two lovers who have been separated by time, or location. Leehan is just a person who is steadfast in his commitment to doing everything in his life earnestly. And it’s one of the many reasons why you are enamored by him.

When he pulls away to look at you, you can see even in the dark the expression of relief on his face. It’s as if kissing you was an urge he has been suppressing until now, and having gotten his fix, he’s left in a state of contentment.

“What was that for?” you ask, adrenaline and arousal running through your veins in such an fiery combination that you find your voice comes out weaker than usual.

“Just had to get it out my system,” is what he says indifferently in reply, and with his lips curling into a smirk, he heads out of the alleyway and continues on the path to your dorm. You follow him, feeling like the arousal you had been suppressing the entire time you were at the library with your friends has now doubled in a way that makes your knees wobbly as you walk.

It’s silent between the two of again as you approach the building to your dorm, although now you feel confident in assuming that it had always been searing sexual tension that was keeping him from being his usual talkative, bubbly self. 

It could be confusing to someone else, then, why — even as you’re locking the door to your room with him inside of it – you still aren’t all over each other in the way your earlier interactions might’ve preluded. 

But it’s because you just have one more confirmation you need to make before you can truly let go of your inhibitions, and that’s the question of, “Is your roommate here?”

Your roommate, lovely girl, would usually be here in the dorm at this time. But already having a feeling what you’d be getting up to tonight, you transparently informed her through text that im so so sorry but i’m out with you know who and i could reallllyyy use some dick tonight. buy you food to make up for it? just before you left the library.

“No. She’s out studying,” you tell Leehan. 

When you meet each other’s gazes, Leehan’s eyes sparkling as if he’s just been told he’s won the lottery, you can sense the exact moment when the both of you realize there’s no longer a need to wait. And so, like animals excitedly tearing up freshly-killed prey, it’s in a messy, rushed flurry of movements that you both take each other’s clothes off. 

Before Leehan, you don’t think you ever experienced an attraction for someone so intense that it caused you to push furniture over in the process of trying to get to the bedroom. But with him, the sound of a glass vase breaking doesn’t feel so concerning when you’re too busy trying to make it to the bed, take off his clothes, and not break your kiss all at once. 

There’s something so humorous about your shared vigor, causing you to both smile into the kisses you share, remaining playful even among such intensity. 

“You’re roommate’s a lovely person, isn’t she?” he remarks as he backs you up into your bedroom doorframe, throwing the jacket you had been wearing on your rug in the process. “I’ve gotta apologize to her one day. Poor girl’s had to hear so many things.”

You hate how much his words ring true, because truthfully, tonight was one out of several rare occasions in which you’ve been given enough foresight to warn your roommate before Leehan comes over. Other times, things between you two have blossomed too spontaneously for a warning, or, your phone died while you were out together, giving you no means to let her know he was arriving. 

“ Ew . Don’t talk about her like that. It’ll make me think you have a thing for her,” you reply in reference to the lovely person and poor girl attributions, and although you’re mostly joking, the insecurity from before about his interest in other women still remains present in the forefront of your mind.

And it’s not at all helped when, even jokingly, he makes remarks like, “Hey — I’d never say no to inviting someone else into our activities.”

At this point, you’re standing in nothing but a bra and panties in front of him, preparing to give your body up for his pleasure, which is why you think it’s fairly reasonable that you reach out to swat him in response to such cheekiness. 

But he seizes your wrists before you can make contact, laughing at your reaction in that way that, as annoying as it is to acknowledge right now, makes him look so, so sexy. “I’m kidding, baby,” he chides apologetically. “I’d never share you. Want you too fucking badly to even think about it.”

It’s in moments like these that you can’t help but get butterflies from Leehan, especially when he leans in to kiss you languidly right after. This habit he’s taken of calling you all sorts of pet names, from princess to baby to sweet girl, is something that has made your attraction to him increase tenfold. 

How could you help it, when his deep voice by itself is like a weapon specifically designed to torture you?

“Are you needy, baby?” asks Leehan teasingly, as his hand is now stuffed in your underwear, and his forehead is pressed against yours as he pushes you against the hard surface of your dresser and fingers you expertly. “Was what we did two days ago not enough? Did I not fuck you good enough?”

It’s actually because the sex from two days ago – and the day before that and the day before that and the days since you met him – was too good that you find yourself needing little stimulation to get wet at the thought of fucking him again. But of course, you don’t admit this, not needing his ego to get any larger than it is. “Shut up and fuck me.”

But Leehan doesn’t pay your cheek any mind, reacting only with a scoff as he busies himself with getting on his knees in front of you. Pressing his face against the skin of your bare stomach, he remarks, “You smell like me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Leehan is the most wayward person you’ve ever met. But you can surely count on him in moments like these to make your entire body feel like it’s on fire, knowing exactly what buttons to push and places to touch to get a rise out of you. All he does is leave chaste, delicate kisses along the skin from your sternum to your belly button, but the fact that he maintains eye contact as he does it, and the implication that he makes when he says, “And I bet you taste like heaven, too,” makes you feel like you’re experiencing something so ethereal it’s as if you’re out of your own body.

You’re looking down at him as he kisses at the spot just above your pussy, and it’s at that moment that you decide you want him too badly to wait any longer. Fingers that had once laced themselves in his hair now tug on the strands, pulling him up and off of you. “Leehan. Inside of me. Now.”

You watch as his eyes scan your face to tell if you’re being serious or not, and if you could see yourself through his gaze, you know you’d be convincingly earnest in your desire to have him. Once he confirms this for himself, he pops up from his previous position kneeling on the ground, and looks at you with his head cocked to the side in a expression of challenge. Pushing you up onto the dresser, he quirks an eyebrow to say, “Have I ever told you that I find you sexiest when you’re telling me what to do?”

At this, you smile, playing into his confession by commanding, “Kiss me,” before leaning in to meet his lips. And when his hand travels between your legs, you know it’s not to touch you, but to reach into the top drawer of your dresser where you’ve allowed him to stash some condoms. It’s with excitment that you hear him tear open the package, sliding the latex onto his hardened cock.

There’s a moment just before he lines his cock up with your slit where he pulls away from your lips, reaching a hand out to hold your jaw in place so that your eyelines are level. And when he simply just stares at you silently, allowing his eyes to graze your features with an awe-stricken expression on his face, you can’t help but look away as the intensity of his admiration becomes overwhelming.

He chuckles at your obvious shyness, hand never leaving your jaw as he continues to view you like you’re a delicate statue he’s entranced by. “Don’t you think it’s too late to be shy after everything we’ve done together?” he says jokingly, and even though you feign disagreement with a roll of your eyes, you make no effort to suppress the smile that appears on your face as you bask in his teasing of you.

“I can’t help it,” you reply, comfortably meeting his gaze now. “You’re just really fucking handsome.”

You’re sure he’s heard these words hundreds of times in hundreds of ways, and yet you can see his eyes-widening as if you’ve said something sincerely touching. Perhaps the words hit differently when heard spontaneously, genuinely, without any pretense behind them.

It’s without any warning that Leehan pushes himself inside of you. Caught off guard by the feeling of his cock entering you inch by pleasurable inch, you can only make a mental note to apologize to him later as your fingernails dig into the skin of his back. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to mind, too focused on leaning his forehead against yours and watching with greedy eyes as his cock enters your pussy and leaves it with a creamy sheen. 

“Jesus fucking christ, Y/N,” he remarks in awe, managing the words through a shaky exhale as he moves to hook his arms underneath your thighs. He pulls your body closer to the edge of the dresser, bringing his cock even deeper inside of you. He hasn’t even started fucking you properly yet, and still you let out a series of elongated sighs and moans, wrapping your arms around his neck for a sense of comfort.

It’s when you’re completely pressed together in a skin-to-skin embrace that he finally begins to thrust inside of you at a pace that you’re used to. As clumsy and unsure as he can sometimes be, Leehan never fucks you erratically. It’s always with a controlled, focused pace that he pistons his hips into yours, knowing your body so well that you never have to tell him when to slow up or go faster. 

When you first met Leehan, you couldn’t understand the concept of kissing being considered an intimate act between two lovers. 

But now, as he leans in to press his mouth against yours, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth, it’s with suprsing clarity that you realize why some people like to refrain from kissing entirely when they hook up with someone. 

You’re at your most smitten when being passionately tongue-kissed through an unforgiving onslaught of thrusts, a part of you wishing that this sex could become a permanent fixture in your life and not just a transactional, temporary high.  

It’s only when he slots a hand between your bodies to tweak at your clit that it becomes impossible for you to meet his kiss, feeling too much pleasure to hold back your open-mouthed cries. Leehan then moves to kissing your neck, and it’s some of the most sensual affection you've ever received as he allows his tongue to drag across your skin, suctioning his lips on sections of your shoulder where you’re sure he’s leaving hickies. 

He goes up your body in this sequence until he reaches your ear, mumbling, “You take care of my cock so well,” as he licks at the shell of your ear and sinks his teeth onto your earlobe. “It’s why I’m never coming off of you. It’s too fucking good for me to stop.”

Transfixed by the sound of his voice, the feel of his cock, and the stimulation you receive on your clit, you can feel that it’s only a matter of time before your pleasure reaches it’s crescending point. “Leehan,” you mumble out, grabbing onto fistfuls of his long hair as if it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Come with me.”

He denies this request with a click of his tongue, mumbling the words, “You first,” into your ear as his thrusts increase in impact. It’s in a sad attempt at a kiss that you press your mouth against his, feeling his intensity and passion just as the same even as you devolve into just grazing your tongue against his mouth. 

Your orgasm hits you in a feeling that’s akin to a bunch of puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together at once; the combination of his cock, his closeness, and his endless circling of your clit leaves your body seizing with what is surely one of the most pleasurable feelings of your life. 

And as you feel his movements becoming rapid and untethered, knowing that the feeling of your tighetning cunt will soon become too pleasurable for him to bear, it’s with satisfied foreboding that you watch him give you his last, hard thrust. 

There are a least of couple minutes that pass where neither of you move, the only sounds being your successive heavy breathing as you both come down from intense highs. Leehan makes the first move by carrying you your bed, where he plops you down on your back and makes a very sexy whimpering sound as he’s forced to pull out of you. 

Even once you’re separated, he still plops down on the bed to rest next to you. A forearm’s length apart, you long for him to touch you, even if just for a moment.

“Shit,” he mutters, an outburst that has you confused until you notice his eyes and their fixation with your bedside alarm clock. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I really don’t want to drive back to my apartment at this time.”

Then stay, is what you think to yourself, but these are words that you would never dare to actually vocalize. 

There was truthfully one instance just a month or so prior when you suggested he might leave a bookbag in your room so he didn’t have to walk home with it in the rain. Not too soon will you forget the way a usually upbeat Leehan turned cold on you within seconds, neglecting to say more than a see you later as he almost sprinted to leave your apartment.

You’d be lying if you said his eagerness to leave after the sex is finished wasn’t at least the slightest bit dismaying. 

The delusional part of you wishes he could at least pretend like he didn’t just come here to fuck you and nothing more. 

It would be nice to believe that the sheer enjoyment of your company would be enough to make him want to stay afterwards.  

And what’s worse is that every time, he comes up with some way to express how much he probably should stay. Like just now, how he mentioned how late it was. It frustrates you more than anything. 

Because no matter how much he says he doesn’t want to leave, he always does. 

And at this point, you wish he would just do it decisively instead of trying to soften the blow. 

“Did you hear about the party we’re having this weekend?” you hear him ask suddenly, his body in a sitting position as he gets up to put on his clothes. “Ha. We . Well, really Jaehyun.”

Though you find it difficult to have casual conversation with him when your mind is elsewhere, you indulge him with a truthful shake of your head. “No. What’s it for?”

“Halloween. He’s asking everyone to dress up,” says Leehan, having already made it to the other side of your room. If you were in more of a spirited mood, you might laugh at how he mentions dressing up for Halloween as if it’s something that’s beneath him. “Don’t worry that he didn’t tell you. He just came up with the idea yesterday. 

The fact that Jaehyun hadn’t mentioned the party to you wasn’t even a thought that occurred in your mind. You were more so concerned with the logistics of deciding to throw a party during midterms. Stressed beyond relief with your own course load, you couldn’t imagine deciding to attend anything extracurricular at this time of year.

But then, the idea of making such plans seems a lot more plausible when Leehan says, “Are you coming, pretty? I think it would be cute if we went with with matching costumes.”

It’s because of moments like these that your feelings for Leehan can be so conflicting. At the beginning of your day today, he sat around you with your other friends and acted as if you were nothing more than acquaintances. Followed you to your dorm and fucked you as sensually and passionately as a boyfriend would. Is getting dressed and preparing to leave within minutes of reaching his climax. And now, he calls you pet names in a non-sexual context and tells you he wants to wear a couple’s costume with you. Constantly affronted with gestures that are both hot and cold, you can never be too sure whether it’s you that’s delusional or him that’s sending mixed messages.

Nonetheless, you cannot help yourself from replying, “Sounds fun. I’ll be there,” even though you know you that you shouldn’t. Even though you know you have far too much on your plate academically to be going to a party on a school night. Even though you know your actions should not be so predated on his. Knowing all of this, you still find yourself not the least bit concerned, only excited, as you think about attending the party together.

“See you then, gorgeous. Have sweet, x-rated dreams about me,” is what he says as he finishes putting on his discarded clothes, standing in your bedroom doorway as he prepares to leave. His silhouette casts a shadow over your dimly lit room, covering your naked, vulnerable body. 

“Shut up,” you mumble weakly as you move to throw a pillow at him, a part of you wishing that all of your interactions felt as sweet as this one did.  

>you: hey i’m at the halloween store picking out costumes, what were you thinking?

Five minutes before you were planning to head out to Jaehyun’s party, you reread this text from two days ago over and over, the delivered in the corner almost taunting you. Just 13 words took you at least an half an hour to send because you couldn’t stop wondering if it was too vague or too forward or if you shouldn’t have even said anything all. 

And now, as you sit on the cold bench outside of your dorm waiting for your Uber to the party, wearing a cheap angel costume, you realize now what a mistake it was to send that text. 

You suppose the misunderstanding you’ve found yourself in started with your assumption – based on Leehan’s last words to you as he left your dorm just a few days ago – that you’d be shopping together to find matching costumes for Jaehyun’s party. 

But when the party was inching closer and he had yet to reach out, you ventured to a PartyCity on your own. It was then that you sent the text after much internal laboring, ultimatley thinking that maybe he was busy with midterms and would be grateful that you had taken the initiative on both your behalf's to buy the costumes.

Even as you were halfway through the checkout line and still nothing from Leehan, you bought a matching devil costume for him anyway, plastic red horns to match your sparkly halo. Maybe, when he was less busy, he’d eventually reach back out, still interested in going to the party with you and grateful you saved him the trouble of picking out a costume. 

In your mind, there were a billion rational possibilities for why he wasn’t responding that would still ultimately end in your original plans to attend the party and dress together.

It wasn’t until an hour before the party and still no response from Leehan that you were forced to accept you’d be going to this party yourself. A billion questions arose in your mind. Was something wrong, explaining why he had been M.I.A after making plans with you? Had he forgotten about the party entireley? 

Did he just…no longer want to go with you anymore?

As you stood up to enter your approaching Uber, you try to remind yourself that the party was being thrown at Leehan’s apartment – there was no way that he was oblivious to what today was. If he hadn’t responded to your text, it didn’t necessarily have to be for malicious reasons. Maybe he just genuinely forgot, or was one of the many people who went offline during midterm season.

Either way, you were beginning to think that you were worrying too much for no reason. After all, it isn’t the end of the world that you aren’t arriving together in matching costumes.

Or, maybe it’s the couple of shots you took while getting ready finally kicking in and causing your rationality to dissipate.

Arriving at Jaehyun’s apartment, you already knew that knocking on the door would be futile; without entering, you could hear the loud sounds of bass burning through a speaker that you could guess would make any outside noise intelligible. Instead, you took your chances at twisting the doorknob, and sure enough, it was unlocked. It seemed dangerous to you, but you walked in anyway to find a cacophony of purple, green, and orange strobe lights, illuminating the sizeable crowd of people filling the space. 

Decorations of cobwebs and skulls adored almost every surface, and as you walked further inside, you noticed the array of drink bowls spread out against a long table. 

You observe impressively that Jaehyun went as far as hiring a DJ, a guy dressed in a vampire costume who jerks his upper body back and forth to the rhythm of the music. 

It’s almost like a scene in a coming-of-age-film come to life, mountains of young adult bodies bouncing in a hypnotic fervor while drinks in red solo cups are sloshed up and down in the process.

Making your way through the crowd, you spot several of your newfound friends, plus others Jaehyun introduced you to at the lunar eclipse. You wave particularly to Riwoo, Giselle, and Sungho – dressed as an elf, cat, and fireman respectively – but really , who you’re looking for is Leehan. 

In the first five minutes or so of your search, you have no luck in finding him. You do, however, run into Jaehyun, whose sleeveless jean vest with no shirt underneath immediately gives away his costume as Ken from the Barbie movie. You giggle at the realization, taken aback even more when Jaehyun drapes an arm clumsily over your shoulder, bringing you in closer.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N!” he shouts, competing with the loud music, and just barely – you almost want to drag him somewhere quieter, away from the DJ booth, but the longer you look at Jaehyun, taking in his wobbly, red-faced disposition, you realize he must be drunk. Trying to force him into any extended movement in his current condition would be futile.

“Thanks. Hey, have you seen Leehan?” you ask, skipping any pleasantries. You want to get an answer from his as quickly as possible before he becomes incoherent.

To your dismay, he shakes his head no. “He’s not coming. Told me he had a study date he was going to.”

You hope the absence of light outside from the shitty strobes obscures the expression of disappointment that is surely on your face right now, or even better that Jaehyun is too drunk to remember you asking this at all tomorrow morning. 

“You’re not still interested in him, are you?” asks Jaehyun, the smallest glimmer of rationality breaking through his drunken fervor as he seems to be sincere in asking. You force a smile, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible before he’s able to notice the difference.

“No, of course not,” you dismiss with a small laugh. You give Jaehyun a friendly pat on the arm before identifying where the drinks are so you can head there next. “Thanks for having me.”

Beelining for the punch table, you fill a red solo cup with a mixture of liquids from all three bowls and throw it down without investigating what you’ve just ingested. To your dismay, rather than dulling your emotions, the alcohol brings out your festering resentment. Towards Leehan, towards this entire situation.

Truthfully, with your own midterms looming and a mountain of late assignments you’ve allowed to pile up over the last few months as you prirotized sex with Leehan, it was against your every best interest to show up tonight. 

You had checked your assignment-board this morning to discover that two essays worth 40% of your grade were due at 11:59 tonight. 

A class you were already failing with a 60 was requiring you to submit revisions for a paper tonight, too.

And yet, you made the decision to come out tonight – promising yourself you’d make it home at a decent enough hour so that you could at least submit something – because of Leehan. 

You were encouraged to wake up this morning and the morning before this morning because of your excitement at the notion of coming to this party with him by your side, wearing matching costumes and sharing drinks and hopefully spit by the end of the night, too.

If you were being completely honest, all of your days were beginning to feel like that — like the only thing you had to continuously look forward to was seeing or experiencing Leehan in some way shape or form.

Experiencing his laugh and his weird habit of bringing up the most random topics at the drop of a dime. Seeing his dimples pop out when he smiles at you and feeling like it’s the cutest thing in the world.

It’s becoming clear to you now that his absence has just as big — no, a bigger emotional impact that his presence does.

You’re angry because you know you didn’t create this excitement out of nowhere: he told you he wanted you to come to this party. You went solely because he said he was going to. If he didn’t want to come tonight, if he had plans, he could have warned you.

You’re angry at yourself for believing him. 

Worst of all, you’re angry because he’s on a date and it confirms all of your biggest insecurities about you not being enough for him.

And it’s at this point that you acknowledge how woefully unequipped you were to say yes to the proposition he gave you the night of the lunar eclipse. Because if it means having to experience the profoundly soul-crushing reality of his disinterest in anything having to do with you other than quick, indulgent sex, you’d rather die a million times. 

You feel your phone buzzing and reach into your bag to grab it unfeelingly. It’s a notification from Leehan. And as if you needed one more reason to feel like shit tonight, the nofication reads, Leehan questioned your message: hey i’m at the halloween store picking out costumes, what were you thinking?

You’re so tired of trying to analyze Leehan’s every action and gesture in an effort to convince yourself that maybe there’s some large reasoning behind his indifference. Instead of searching for any additional explanation behind in the question mark, you simply decide that he’s an asshole who had no intention of going out with you tonight.

And it’s with that steely acknowledgement that suddenly, you feel like you’re about to throw up all of the liquor you’ve just consumed. Taking a deep breath to stop yourself from spilling your guts right then and there, you decide it’s time to go home.

In your haste to leave the party, you don’t bother to try and yell excuse me to the 20 or so people blocking your way to the exit. You simply squeeze past who you can and push past who you can’t, not even caring to look back at those you shoulder check until you’re turned around by a pull against your forearm.

Face-to-chest with a figure you don’t immediately recognize, you body seizes up in fear, a condition that’s only slightly alleviated when you recognize the person’s voice as they exclaim in a deep voice, “ Whoa, whoa whoa . Hey, Y/N.” 

It’s in slight annoyance that you look up to meet Leehan’s gaze, finding him staring down at you softly. It appears that he’s just walked into the party. In a space  full of people dressed as mythical creatures, he looks out of place in his leather jacket and jeans, but also oh so attractive. His hair gathers in front of his face messily, the dark brown locks in a rare state of curliness. He doesn’t have to wear plastic horns to look devilish. 

“Are you okay?” you hear him ask loudly over the sound of the music, his hand now resting on the apex of your arm. Feeling both defiant and embarrassed to tell him the true answer to his question – that no , you’re not okay because you foolishly thought you could count on him to be there for you when he said he would – you don’t answer. 

And in a move that only contributes to the growing feeling that all Leehan truly cares about when it comes to you is sex, he doesn’t even allow you the time to answer, even if you wanted to. “You look pretty, angel ,” he says only seconds after his last remark, using both of his hands to smoothe down pieces of your hair messed up by your headband. 

A compliment that would usually cause sparks to fly throughout your stomach now only annoys you, especially as you catch a whiff of fruity, feminine perfume on his body. 

“You smell like someone else,” you tell him plainly, too drunk to hide what it is you’re thinking. And you can see that the remark and the resentful tone in which you say it takes him aback, even as he chuckles in an attempt to remain composed. 

“Because I was driving for Uber, tonight, pretty,” he says, and before you have a chance to question his excuse, he continues by asking, “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why does that matter?” you retort with a scoff, convinced he’s about to try and spin this on you by suggesting your valid anger is a result of your drinking. 

But then he puts on that signature smirk of his, those wretched dimples of his coming out as he leans down into your ear to say, “Because when I ask If I can take you to my room in about five minutes, I want to make sure I’m not taking advantage of you.”

Yout hate that those words and the implication of sex have you immediately aroused and pliant, even as you grapple with the feeling of being just a physical object to him. 

Because as much as you dislike him right now for what he’s put you through emotionally, his renewed attention feels like the perfect solvent to your wounds.

“You wouldn’t be,” you reply softly, your voice coming out small and weak as you maintain unbroken eye contact with him.

“Yeah?” he replies almost mockingly, bringing a hand up to stroke your cheek. “Why do I get the feeling that you want me to take advantage of you?”

It feels like your mind and heart are on two different accords as your face remains passive and unaffected yet what comes out of your mouth is, “Take me to your room and find out.”

It’s less a feeling of shame but more like acceptance that comes over you as you follow Leehan back into the throes of the party, his hand leading you through the crowd of people and towards his bedroom. 

Deep down, you know that the excuse he gave you earlier about his whereabouts was bullshit. Never once before has Leehan mentioned driving for Uber, and even if he did, it still wouldn’t justify his complete lack of regard for the plans you made and his lack of regard for you , refusing to notify you in advance that he wouldn’t be available.

But when faced with the proposition of sex, it seems foolish to deny it so that you can… what ? Continue to stew in feelings that will just leave you feeling empty, hurt, and worthless? Question him about being on a date when you know you have no right to?

Having sex will at least guarantee you a few moments of mind-numbing bliss, even if only a temporary high. Better that than have to face the reality of your own complicated nest of delusion.

As you’re let into Leehan’s room, hearing the sound of him closing the door shut behind you, you’re hit with the sudden realization that in the three months or so you’ve known him, you’ve never been in here before. 

His room has all the markers of a college boy’s sense of taste – dark colored furniture and bedsheets, posters scattered on the wall with no real order, random piles of mess occupying corners of the room. 

In a space that is otherwise unremarkable, your attention is piqued by a square, rectangular tank on top of his dresser.

“You have fish ,” you remark in a tone that is both matter-a-fact and questioning, something about your drunken state making you more curious than ever about the tank and it’s inhabitants. 

Throwing his jacket onto a random chair, Leehan comes up next to you and lets out a chuckle as he takes in your awe-stricken expression. “For some reason, I forgot you haven’t been in here before,” he observes, and when he watches you just continue to stand still, eyes transfixed on the fish but still remaining a few feet away from the tank, he gestures for you to follow him to it. “C’mon. Sit.”

You can’t help the way that your limbs move eagerly and excitedly towards the tank, where Leehan pulls up two extra chairs for you both to sit and view it together. 

Fish of all different sizes and shapes swim around in vibrant blurs of pink, orange and beige. You watch it all in awe, not sure if it’s because you’re tipsy or simply curious, and as Leehan explains what each type of fish is called, you hang onto every word.

“...this one is called a corydoras catfish. The rest of them are shrimp,” he explains, pressing his finger up against the tank as he points out each fish and the attributes that differentiate them from one another. 

In one corner of the tank, a group of fish swim frantically around each other, as if fighting.

“Usually they come right up against the tank when I sit in front of them like this. I think they’re mad because I haven’t given them any fish food.”

“Don’t you need to feed them?” you ask in genuine concern, turning to look at Leehan who only smirks.

“Are you trying to imply that I’m a negligent father, Y/N?” he retorts dramatically, his body tensing in mock offense before he relaxes and explains, “Don’t worry. They’re supposed to eat the algae on the rock. For some reason, they’re just being hesitant.”

“Maybe the algae isn’t what they want,” you chime in with a reasoning tilt to your quiet, contemplative voice.

“Just because the fish food is what they want doesn’t mean I should give it to them,” Leehan retorts simply, and maybe it’s the drunk, cynical part of you that thinks he’s making reference to your relationship. That you’re the fish who just can’t help but want something it can’t have, and he’s the sensible overseer that remains in control of what you will receive. 

But if Leehan is making some sort of larger, metaphorical reference to your relationship, he surely moves on from it quickly, becoming wistful and contemplative as he says, “I’ve been raising fishes all my life. Sometimes when I’m stressed I’ll just sit in front of the tank and talk to them.”

He presses his hand flat against the tank, his lips twitching into a prideful, paternal smile. “Because I know that unlike humans, they’ll never judge me.”

You find that your eyes never stray from the side of Leehan’s face as he talks, feeling almost like you’re a purveyor to this private, intimate moment he’s having. It feels like a privilege to be able to observe Leehan in moments like this where you’re given a genuine glimpse into his inner personhood.

But you’re pushed out just as quickly as you’re let in, watching as he promptly gets up from his seat by the tank and makes his way over to the bed. You turn your body in your chair to face him, and find that he’s now staring at you lustfully, gesturing for you to join him.

And as dismaying as it is to see him abandon the brief moment of emotional vulnerability just as quickly as it began, you stand up anyway, making your way to him.

Your movements toward him are slow, shy almost, and you can tell it pleases Leehan as you stand between his legs and are brought forward by his hands pushing at your lower back. He looks up at you, communicating wordlessly with just his sensual gaze how much he wants you. Your lingering anger from before stops you from making the first move, but even so, you don’t resist when he leans in to press a soft, steady kiss against your lips. Finding something almost apologetic about the innocent gesture, you put aside all of your inhibitions and decide to deepen the kiss, leaning your body fully into his and relishing in the groans he makes against your mouth. 

Passion quickly bleeds into the both of your movements until you’re kissing in a crazed, frantic manner. His hands that previously only looped your hips now wander across the expanse of your back, and with one forceful tug, your zipper comes down your dress. You’ve only just allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders before he’s pulling the dress down himself, exposing your nipples to the cold air before covering them with his hot mouth. Tongue swirling around your hardened nubs, you nuzzle a hand in his hair and throw your head back in contentment. 

It’s with a wet pop that he pulls off of you, leaning upward to lock your lips once more. But because you're both incredibly and overwhelming horny, the kiss lasts for barely a few seconds before he’s pulling away to voice his plans for your body. 

“Want you to sit on my face,” he mumbles, voice gruff and deep and dripping with desire. “Wanna put that pretty pussy of yours in my mouth.”

Smirking in reply, you rest your head against his, eyes closed as you weather the currents of several shocks of arousal that travel up your body and make your legs feel like jelly. “I want that, too,” you confess, your voice sounding wispy as your body loses the strength to be assertive. “Also kinda want your dick in my mouth.”

His eyes light up at this, and with a hand on your chin that brings your face level with his, he says, “How about this: You hop on my face, and I’ll let you suck my cock. Sound good?”

Something about Leehan’s enduring leadership has the effect of making you feel intimidated, so much so that all you manage is a shy nod in response to his words, which he luckily accepts without any further prompting. You’re better at speaking with your actions, anyway, knowing that there’s a wordless understanding in the way that you kiss him hard and passionately while your hands push him onto his back.  

It’s with greedy, fast-moving hands that you strip him of his clothes, desperate for the instant bliss that is his mouth against your clit, the instant satisfaction that is his cum shooting down your throat. Once you have him fully naked, the fuzzy halo headband you’ve long forgotten about the only shared item of clothing between the two of you, you begin to adjust so that you may assume the required position. 

But your movements are suddenly halted when Leehan sits up suddenly, muttering the word “Wait,” as he maneuvers the both of your bodies so that you now lay on the complete opposite side of the bed. 

“That’s better,” he mumbles contentedly.

“What?”

“Just don’t want the fish to see what I’m about to do to you,” he replies, an answer so baffling that all you can do is laugh in reply. Your reaction barely phases him as he moves to drag your body onto his, and just like that, his kookiness is forgotten and your focus becomes tethered to the feeling of his breath against your awaiting pussy. 

He blows a few teasing, cool breaths against your dripping core, and before he has the chance to make you succumb to the pleasure of his mouth, you reach out to begin your own enjoyment of his heavy, hard cock. 

His member is veiny and substantial in your hands, reddened tip dripping with beads of precum that you lick away without thought of how it will impact Leehan. You feel his body seize with a jolt of pleasure from the direct contact with his most sensitive body part. 

And as if trying to get payback, he begins his assault on your pussy by sucking your clit into his warm, wet mouth.

From there, it becomes a competition of wills, a battle to see who can be least distracted by the pleasure they’re receiving in order to make the other fold, or at the very least, reach their climax. 

It’s a war you feel yourself pitifully losing as your drunken fervor somehow makes every casually overwhelming sensation feel 10x more heightened. You feel yourself inching closer and closer to release with each blissful flick of his tongue against your clit. 

Still, not forgetting about Leehan and his pleasure, you fight through the mental haze of your own gratification and concentrate on making slow, purposeful pumps of his cock within the ring of your hand. 

Sucking Leehan off is an activity you’ve gotten more than enough experience in to know what it takes to make him come. You gather all of the moisture in your mouth and wet his shaft with your spit. You press teasing, chaste kisses on his sensitive tip. You swirl your tongue in circles and continue stroking him with your hand. 

And then, when you can feel his thighs tensing as he grows tired of your teasing, you offer him relief in the form of taking him fully in your warm mouth.

Leehan’s self control is impeccable, even as you’re bobbing your head up and down his cock. He drags his tongue through your folds and finds himself at your hole, licking up the arousal there and fucking you open with his tongue. The only sign he shows of his own impending release are in the groans that he lets out against your mound. You can feel something overwhelming begining to build in your stomach, and though your body tries to squirm away from it, he holds you against his face.

You pitifully moan with his cock fully lodged in your mouth, and with a few final thrusts of his tongue, the knot in your stomach comes undone. As your orgasm overwhelms you, it’s difficult to continue moving your head. 

But Leehan’s too close to let his climax slip away from him, so it’s in desperation that he begins bucking his hips into your mouth at the same time he’s licking you through your orgasm. You just relax your jaw and let out restrained whimpers as Leehan fucks your mouth, not stopping until he finishes with a groan.

“My god, Y/N,” Leehan mutters breathily, turning you both on your sides, unraveling his limbs from yours until you’re no longer skin to skin. “We should do that position more often.”

You nod lazily in agreement, and with the little strength left in your limbs, you sit up to meet Leehan in the middle of the bed for a wet kiss. 

The position is slightly awkward, the two of you laying in opposite directions, twisting your bodies unnaturally, but kissing each other is a habit so addictive that even as you’re pulling away, he pulls at your hair to bring you back in for just a few seconds longer.

It’s comforting to fall back down onto the bed and feel Leehan’s fingers gently caressing the skin of your ankle. In your sleepy, post-orgasm haze, you’re filled with a sudden surge of contement in regards to your decision to come here tonight. 

You feel the fabric of a blanket kissing the sides of your body, and when you look over to find Leehan getting comfy in bed, it’s with satisfaction that you begin to do the same.

But then, the blanket you were just about to pull onto your body is snatched off of your skin, and when you look over at Leehan, you see him tucking himself in with a sleepy, content smile on his face. It’s just as you’re sitting up that he flutters his eyes closed, and with a sleepy tilt to his voice he says, “Hey, if you see Jaehyun on your way out, can you ask him to call me? I wanna know what time he plans on ending this.”

There’s a second after those words hit your ears where you’re not sure if you misheard him, slow to move from where you are in his bed. But as the implications of the statement hit you horrifically and all at once, it’s with a heavy feeling of shame weighing down your body that you reply, “Sure,” going to gather your discarded things from the floor.

The humiliating act of putting on your clothes after being dismissed so casually is almost instantaneously sobering. You catch a view of yourself in the display of your phone and notice that your plastic halo headband has been bent 90 degrees, likely from how rough you were. Your hair is strewn in every direction. Your mascara is smeared and ruined, running down your cheeks in squiggly, broken lines. 

You’re a mess. He made you a mess for the sake of his pleasure. And instead of cleaning you up, Leehan has essentially just kicked you out onto the street.

Only Leehan could cause such a dramatic shift between feeling like you were safe and desired to feeling like you’re just a worthless speck of nothing attached to the bottom of his shoe.

It’s just as you’re about to open the door to leave that you hear him call your name, and with your back turned to him, a hopeful part of you thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll say he changed his mind and wants you to stay.

But instead, as if to turn the knife in more, when you turn around, you find him staring boredly at his phone. 

Instead of regret on his face, you see neutrality. 

And instead of asking you to stay, he just says, “Thanks so much by the way. For the sex and the favor.”

It’s with a forced, robotic sense of calmness that you’re replying. “No problem, Leehan.”

And then you leave his room, never feeling so profoundly insignificant than you do in this moment.

There’s nothing quite worse than waking up with a terrible hangover, a panging feeling of emotional emptiness, and then having to send a string of desperate emails to your professors asking for deadline extensions. But that’s exactly what you do in the aftermath of the Halloween party, and by the grace of all things holy, you’re granted an extra few days to get your assignments in.

So grateful for the chance to resuscitate your failing GPA, you focus your efforts on finishing your assignments and almost forget about the cause of such misfortune, until you’re reminded when your phone suddenly buzzes with a text.

>leehan: what are you doing?

Messages of this sort usually have the effect of leaving you excited and giddy in anticipation of Leehan’s inevitable arrival to your doorstep. But now, all you feel is annoyance as you read the text and plague yourself over what to say. 

You type and delete several versions of a response that ultimately boils down to i’m too busy trying not to fail all of my classes which i wouldn’t be failing if it weren’t for all of the time i spend either thinking about you or fucking you , but in the end, you resolutely decide not to respond at all. 

In fact, in a move surely colored by the resentment you’ve allowed to grow for far too long now, you turn on read receipts so he knows you chose to disregard him on purpose.

You then continue typing away at one of the three essays that are past due, hoping you can forget about Leehan and return to the focus you had before receiving the message and being reminded of the past week’s events. You’re pleased when you look up after a few moments to see that an hour has passed and your attention hasn’t lingered. 

Just as you open a new tab to begin the reading for your second essay, the indistinguishable sound of a knock at your door stirs your attention otherwise.

You look around your shared dorm space. Your roommate went home for break already and hasn’t been here for the past few days. Assuming she communicated that to her friends, you know whoever’s on the other side of the door shouldn’t be for her. 

It could be an RA, though you couldn’t imagine why. 

Deciding to confront your curiosity head on, you get up to open the door and feel your eyes widen when it’s Leehan leaning against the doorframe.

Dressed comfortably in a hoodie and cargo pants, he looks up to greet you, smirking at the sight of your looming silhouette. “Hello,” he says casually, as if his sudden appearance was known to you before now.

There’s a strange mixture of excitement and dread that swirls inside of you the moment you see him. Because on one hand, just a look from him is something that gives you uncontrollable butterflies. You truly do like being around Leehan. But you feel like you have no control over the fact that you will let him in, even though you have every reason not to. 

He’ll fuck you, give you some of the best pleasure of your life, and will leave right afterwards, making you feel shitty. 

You’ll exerience the greatest high followed by the greatest low. 

And already in anticipation of how terrible you’ll feel in the aftermath of this inevitable scenario, it’s as if you’re body is already making space for the knife that will surely tear through your heart when this ends.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, though you already have a strong feeling what the answer will be. 

He’ll play coy, changing the subject by asking another question in response to your question.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” he says next, even though you both know the true reason why he’s come.

And because you like to feel like you have even the smallest semblance of control over the situation, you don’t give in to him easily, making a face of mock contemplation before replying, “Not if you don’t answer the question first.”

“Did you know that peppermint dwarf angelfish require a very specific type of fish food?” he asks, and because you’re so used to these divertive, weird diatribes he’s always so inclined to go on, all you can do is try and follow along. “I had to come all the way up here to find the only shop in Korea that sells it. And while I was already up here, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by your dorm and say hi.”

You tilt your head as you stare at him, considering bitterly whether he could be telling the truth or not. 

But of course, his serious expression quickly melts into a smirk as he explains himself. “I’m kidding, Y/N. Not about the fishes, but about why I’m here. I wanted to see you, so I came.”

There’s something that’s really disgustingly cocky and self-centered about him just showing up to your door without warning with the unsaid though obvious expectation of sex. 

And yet, would he be wrong to have that expectation, when so many times before you’ve let him for that exact purpose?

He must be able to see the conflicting thoughts you’re having reflected on your expression, because from behind his back, he reveals a bouquet of flowers. You don’t know how you didn’t notice he was holding them until now, a colorful array of peonies and roses with, upon further inspection, a bunch of cardboard fishes placed among the petals. 

You can’t help but smile as you take them from him.

“I brought flowers?” he says, his voice titled in an expression of this being an olive branch, his way of expressing apology, though for what you don’t know. For showing up here unannounced? For putting you through so much obvious emotional turmoil? You’re not sure. 

There is something at least a little romantic about him boldly showing up at your doorstep instead of waiting for you to respond to his text. Though, through another, more cynical lens, you could also call it kind of creepy. Should you go with the latter interpretation, you know you would be sending the worse kind of message by letting him in anyway. You’d essentially be confirming to him that this relationship is on his terms, that he can show up to your place whenever he wants to get his dick wet, regardless of if you’re busy like you are now.

But isn’t that what this has always been between the two of you? Once again, you feel helpless in the face of the unbounding energy his presence causes. You can only watch the rest of the nights events play out like a bad movie you’ve seen far too many times, like you’re a witness from outside your own body and life.

You walk away from Leehan, leaving your door open so he knows he can come in. You place the flowers neatly on the table next to the entrance. It’s when you face the kitchenette of your dorm that you realize just how cluttered the place is; too stressed about your schoolwork, you haven’t put any thought into keeping it clean.

“Sorry,” you mutter sheepishly under your breath as you hear Leehan come in and close the door behind him. “It’s kind of a mess in here.”

He chuckles, as if to agree without having to say it plainly and hurt your feelings. You turn to face him and find that he’s already looking at you, a penetrating expression on his face as he asks, “Are you okay?”

You’ve never found that question as hard to answer as it is right now, especially when it’s his voice doing the questioning. 

Should you say that you’re on the verge of failing all of your classes, a circumstance you’ve never once had to worry about until he came into your life, causing a whirwhild of uncontainable emotions to take over your life? 

That you’ve been questioning everything when it comes to your own self-esteem and worthiness because it feels like you’re nothing if you’re not validated by the fleeting yet addicting warmth of his gaze and attention?

In the time that it takes you to think, you realize that Leehan has come closer, his body in front of you so that now you can’t escape from the kitchen counter against your back that blocks you in completely. Dazed by the proximity of him, you forget what you were asked, and are grateful when he doesn’t press you for an answer. It’s better for both of you if you don’t respond, anyway, because your honesty would surely kill the mood.

“You know what might make you feel better?” he asks, and you fight back a cynical giggle at the fact that he doesn’t even have to hear you say it to know that you need to be made better. “Fucking the shit out of me.”

As always, his moments of sudden candor simultaneously make you laugh and cringe because of how ill-fitting they are to the persona he occupies in your mind. You’ve always liked how awkward and strange Leehan is, which is why his fuckboy tendencies have always landed uneasily for you. 

It becomes too easy, then, to tease him by pretending you didn’t hear his outward expression of desire. “I don’t like the way you look at people,” you say, trying your hand at his usual divertive tactics. “It’s like you can see through them.”

You can always appreciate how even when you sidestep his advances, Leehan always plays into your banter, never pressuring you into action. “It’s because I can. BOO!” he exclaims, mouth open in an o shape as he childishly expresses fright. You muster a laugh at his playfulness.

After that, you’re both silent, and you know it’s because you’re both tired of playing games. You’re at the point now where it becomes obvious in both of your piercing gazes that you want to fuck, and now it’s just about who will make the move first. 

Suddenly conscious of Leehan’s long hair and how it hangs over the sides of his face, you reach your arms up to take pieces of it into your hands. There’s a rubber band on your wrist that you use to try and put it in a ponytail so you can see his features better, but before you can finish, he takes the opportunity of your increased closness to kiss you. 

The intensity of his kiss knocks the air out of your lungs, and you let go of his hair before you can finish tying it up. Because of your close proximity, it falls over the sides of your own face, obscuring the rest of the world from you so that it’s just him in your vision. 

His hands rest on the apex of your hips, and he pushes you slightly so that you’re completely backed up against the kitchen counter. You’d thought you’d feel more urgent, but your movements are leisurely as you bring your hands to his hoodie and begin to pull at the buttons holding it together. As the fabric begins to sag off his arms, he starts kissing at your neck, and you tilt your head to the side to accommodate him.

Once his shirt has fallen to the ground, you then work to release his cock from the confines of his pants, pushing at the thankfully loose waistband until it springs out against his naked stomach. You jerk him slowly and leisurely but it causes him to groan into your mouth just the same, and soon he’s moving to unbutton your own t-shirt until you’re both naked from the waist up.

“Leehan,” you whimper, as he cups your tits with both hands, “Bed.”

“Which one? I take it your roommate’s is empty?” he replies jokingly, and when you stare at him scathingly, he chuckles. “I’m kidding. Don’t look at me like that or I’ll come in my pants.”

You have no chance to scold Leehan for his teasing any further before he’s picking you up off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist and hands around his neck as he walks habitually to your bedroom. He’s still on top of you even as you feel yourself being lowered onto your bed, mouth on yours in a sloppy kiss while his hands rush to get your pants off. He sits up to kick his own off, and now the two of you are left completely naked. 

This would usually be the point where the two of you would become like animals and rush to fuck as soon as possible. But while standing above your body, you watch as Leehan just stares at your still figure on the bed, taking in every detail with his penetrative, admiring eyes.

“I find you so beautiful,” he softly confesses, caressing the skin on your hip before looking up to meet your shy gaze. “Do you know that?”

It’s unclear whether he’s asking if you know that you’re beautiful, or if you know that he finds you beautiful. Either way, it’s in a moment of sincere honesty that you reply, “Only sometimes.”

Because there are days when you look in the mirror or put on your clothes on your way to campus and feel like your body is less of a home, but a prison that you’re forever doomed to occupy.

And with the emotional rollercoaster that is having sex with Leehan only for him to completely ignore you afterward, you’ve naturally found yourself wondering if the only alluring thing about you is that you’ll let him fuck you with no questions asked. That in a school full of beautiful girls with actual self-esteem, he’s settled for you so long as you continue to provide him with pussy.

Leehan furrows his eyebrows at your response, and with a corrective tone of voice replies, “ Always .” In movements that are slow and gentle, he leans down to lay a chaste kiss on your forehead. Another on the top of your cheek. Another on your ear. And then on every single part of your face that you’d normally consider insignificant. And then slowly down your rising and falling torso. 

“Everything about you. I couldn’t pick a favorite thing because I love every single part of you,” he confesses in a whisper-like tone against your skin. Finally reaching your pussy, he places one last gentle kiss at the top of your mound, something about the gesture making your pussy clench, espeically as he says, “You’re my favorite girl.”

To be affirmed by Leehan in this way is something that causes both your heart to swell and your body to pulse with arousal. But it’s also with a surge of sadness that you wish these words didn’t affect you so monumentally. 

A part of you wants him to stop making remarks of this sort to you during sex because you can never be sure that he truly means them.

But if that’s the case, then why do they feel and sound so genuine?

It’s with shaky resoluteness in your voice that you sit up to look at Leehan, replying, “Then show me.”

And, as if spurred on by the challenge, you can see Leehan’s expression changing even with half of his face obscured by your pussy. “How?” he asks, leaning in to lick teasingly against your clit. “Like this?” 

When he doesn’t wait for your answer and continues sucking and licking against your clit, you throw your head back as you enjoy the physical manifestations of Leehan’s attraction to you. 

If there is any time when you feel most desired and liked by him, it’s when he’s in between your legs, devouring you whole like a man starved. 

He uses his mouth not to tell you sweet-nothings, but to give you some of the best pleasure of your life. And it’s in gestures like these where you can wordlessly understand his devotion to you. 

It’s in your desperation to reach your peak that you begin to buck your hips into his mouth, wanting more of him, but he stops it with both hands that snake up your body and press down on your boobs. He tweaks at your nipples in a way that makes your back arch, but in a gesture that surprises you, he also just rests his hand over your chest, right where your heart is. You wonder if he can feel the fluctuations of your pulse, how it speeds up when his tongue does. Dreamily, the thought of him being so in sync with you that he can feel the intimate beatings of your inner organ sends you into a spiral of heightened satisfaction.

“Leehan, I’m gonna come.”

Even with your eyes closed, you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he says, “My favorite four words in the world. Go ahead, baby. I’ve got you.”

Somehow, you think your body needed that permission, because it’s only moments later that your orgasm takes over your body. 

Your eyelids are covered with dancing spirals, your spine bends as you arch up into the air, and your body vibrates with a feeling so pleasurable it’s like an addiction, something you’d endure the greatest emotional lows to receive on a regular basis.

As you still, Leehan gets up to sit on his knees, looking over at your bedside dresser. “Still have the condoms where I left them?”

“Top drawer,” you confirm.

“Good girl,” he praises with a smile, reaching over you to rummage through the drawer and coming out of it with a silver packet between his fingers. 

It’s just as he’s finished putting it on and is about to slide in that you raise a hand to stop him, saying, “Leehan wait. I wanna ride you.”

His eyebrows raise at this, but he nonetheless maneuvers so that he’s in a criss-cross position, saying with a grin, “Woah. I feel lucky. You never get on top. Make me do all the work.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, making your way over to him and holding onto his shoulders as you hover over his hardened cock. But before you can take him, he roughly grabs your chin, squeezing your face in his hold in a way that forces your eyes on his.

“Make me,” he asserts, staring at you so intensely that it makes your stomach swoop. Reaching between your bodies, you grab hold of his pulsing erection and line it up with your hole, sinking down on him and loving the way it makes both of your mouths instantly open on impact.

It feels like you’re being split open in the most pleasurable way as you sit down fully on Leehan’s cock and allow the satisfcation of being filled by him to consume you. Driven by the pursuit of your own pleasure, you bounce, swivel, and thrust yourself against him. And when Leehan throws his head back, beautiful neck on display as he growls, “You’re so tight, Y/N,” you’re motivated to go even harder.

Sex with Leehan has never felt more intimate than it does now, when you’re above him and able to catch every small distortion in his gorgeous expression as he gets taken away by the gratification of this sex. Mantaining eye contact with him is nothing new to you now, but even so, you find yourself feeling like his eyes are admiring your soul more than they are your body or face as you bounce up and down for his viewing pleasure.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you’re skin to skin, heart to heart, and in a way you almost feel like the closeness grants you the telepathic ability to know what he’s feeling and thinking. If there were to be a physical manifestation of the word yearning , it would be this exact moment between the two of you. 

Your expression melts into a smirk as you continue to ride him, and you feel almost motivated to giggle as the pleasure you’re experiencing makes you feel deliriously satisfied and happy. Leehan, with his hands leisurely rested at his sides, scans your face as if trying to memorize every detail, saying, “You make the prettiest expressions when my dick is inside of you. I truly can’t – nphhh – get enough.”

It’s as you begin to set a pace that has the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot with every bounce that you yearn for him to touch you, to light your skin on fire with the warmth of his touch. Anywhere. Everywhere. “Leehan, touch me .”

And it’s because he’s come to know your body so well, know exactly what makes you tick and what places to touch that have you crying in pleasure, he brings his hand to your clit and starts rubbing incoherent shapes into your swelling bud. Your body feels like it’s on fire, so much so that you begin to lose strength in your trembling thighs, something Leehan picks up on as he says almost desperately, “Faster, Y/N. Take it.”

You have to fight through the strain in your legs and the building tension in your stomach in order to begin bouncing on Leehan so hard it’s as if your life depends on it. And though it feels like it’s taking all of the energy in your body, you do it because you want to make him feel good. 

You do it because you want him to continue thinking of you as his favorite girl, even though that statement in itself implies the existence of other girls. 

Even though it feels like every morsel of your self-esteem is shattered in the process, you do it because his attention means so much to you that it blurs everything else.

“ Fuck , I’m gonna come,” you cry out as the pleasure becomes too much, as it begins to feels like everything else in your vision is obscured except for Leehan.

“Open your mouth,” you hear him say, and although your sex-crazed mind can barely comprehend why he’s asking you that, you comply anyways and feel your arousal growing stronger when, to your surpise, he tips your head back with a hand on your jaw and spits into your mouth.

The gesture is dirty and lewd and yet a moan rips out of you just the same, and the closer that your orgasm inches, the less you feel like you’re in control of your body or your reactions. Every thought and will in your brain has been diluted so that your only objective is to reach your peak.

“You like that, pretty?” he asks teasingly, his own orgasm approaching in a way that causes his voice to come out strained and tight. “Let me see what a dirty girl you are. Come all over my cock.”

Whimpers of his name leave your mouth in broken succession, the robustness of your orgasm milking you until your body quite literally collapses against his. And it’s after giving everything that your body could give, your legs trembling and your body screaming out in exhaustion, that Leehan takes over by thrusting wildly up into you. In search of his own climax, you can only whimper weakly into the skin of his neck and allow him to manhandle your limp body up and down his cock.

“I know, I know,” he coos apolgetically in your ear, fucking up into you hard and firmly. “I”m close. Gonna come inside your pretty little pussy.”

With a last thrust so impactful that it resonates throughout your entire body, Leehan releases into his condom, twisting his hips inside of you before pulling out with a groan. You collapse onto the bed together, and even though you can barely feel anything in the bottom half of your body, even though you have the foreboding inclination that it’ll be hard to walk later, you still can’t help the foolish smile that appears automatically on your face. There is no greater high than basking in your post-orgasm haze.

The stillness of the moments you share after sex is something you cling onto every time, wishing that the universe would mercifully turn those seconds of blissful and intimate silence between the two of you into minutes. But like the distant sound of thunder that lets you know that it’s going to rain, you feel the bed dip with the weight of Leehan sitting up, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before he sees himself out.

“You made a mess,” you hear him say as he picks at the fabric of your sheets where, sure enough, the white sheets have been soiled grey. The comment gives you slight butterflies, and as you manage a weak smile, about to reply with something snarky, he says, “Want me to stay behind? Do your laundry?”

If only for a few seconds, you allow yourself to consider the possibility that he’s being serious. That for the first time since you met him, he’s actually going to stay behind and take care of you instead of leaving you wet and limp and naked and sad. You hate how good those few seconds of belief feel. That just the idea of how doing something as simple as your laundry could make you feel so fulfilled and wanted.

At first you’re not sure what to think when he leans down to gently caress the hair on top of your head. But then, with an almost pitying expression on his face, he replies, “I’m just joking. If I hang around for too long, how would you miss me?”

There have been lots of times when Leehan has shown his lack of regard for you in his actions, but never in his words.

So to hear him plainly confirm to you that this is all a game to him, that it’s always been his intention to leave you strung out and wanting more, that he knows the emotional impact his absence causes, hits you like a slap in the face.

He doesn’t have to hide how little he cares about you because he knows that no matter how he treats you, you’ll always come back.

Haven’t you proven that exact notion to him time and time again?

“See you later, Y/N,” he says as he’s leaving your bedroom, a statement that he can make with confidence because you’ve shown him time and time again that he can walk all over you and still be guaranteed access to your body, mind and soul.

And as the reality of the situation that you’ve found yourself in hits you all at once, it’s at the sound of your front door closing that you begin to cry on impact.

Tears that feel endless begin to pour out onto your cheeks until you’re open-mouthed sobbing, and because you’ve spent so long holding these emotions back, they wreck your body until you have no energy left and devolve into soundless heaves.

You fall asleep like this, so emotionally wrecked and confused that you forgot about the three essays you were supposed to submit. 

You’re on the verge of tears as you enter your advisor’s office, sitting down across from the older woman whose passive expression tells you everything you need to know about the sort of news she’s about to deliver to you. But it’s with surprising clarity that you react to her saying, “Y/N, you’ve failed almost every single one of your classes this term.”

You stare blankly at her, processing the emotions that come over you at this news. It’s suprsing to say that the immediate feeling that comes over you is relief, but you owe it to the fact that you’ve been struggling this entire semester, plagued with anxiety as to whether or not you’d fail. And so, to have it finally confirmed after months of stressing about it feels similarly to being in the eye of a storm. 

After struggling for so long, you’re at a vantage point where it feels more comforting to be able to say that all that’s left is for you to fight your way out of the storm entirely. 

“Typically, when students have such large and sudden drops in performance like this, it’s because of some significant life event,” she explains, tilting her head as she looks at you pitifully. “Given that you’re a transfer student, I’m wondering if the transition from your old school to this one had an impact on your performance. Are you finding the academic rigor here harder?”

“No, maam,” you say, shaking your head. Academically, this school has been everything you had been hoping for and more since deciding to transfer. You couldn’t have expected to meet someone who so greatly turned your life around within a matter of months. 

Not sure how to explain the unique set of circumstances leading up to this moment, you vaguely answer, “I’ve just…transparently had a lot going on this semester in my personal life. So I haven’t been as great at prioritizing my classes.”

Humming in understanding, your advisor moves to face her computer. “Well, I’m afraid the next steps are to put you on academic probation for the rest of this semester. Are you aware of what that all entails?”

You shake your head no. Your advisor goes on to explain it to you. “You’ll need to maintain at least a 2.5 grade point average moving forward. Additionally, you’ll be given a tutor – another student who you’ll be mandated to meet with at least once a week to get your grades up.”

There a few telltale clicking sounds from her computer before she’s speaking up again to say, “It looks like the only available tutor for this semester is a student named Han Taesan. Do you know him?”

Admittedly only familiar with the few people who Jaehyun’s introduced you to, you shake your head no. You then have to try and push off the dread that builds inside of you at the thought of having to meet with a stranger once a week for the next two or so months until the semester ends.

You perk up as you watch your advisor’s eyebrows lift in surprise at something on her computer “It looks like he actually has office hours open right now until three. So, after this, I recommend you go see him and introduce yourself. It’s important that you get started right away so that you can begin correcting this situation. The last thing we’d want is for your financial aid to be affected, which – I should mention – will happen if you fail your classes again, Y/N.”

It’s at this warning that the reality of the situation finally hits you. 

As stupid as it now sounds, all of the times when you allowed Leehan to take up so much of your time in lieu of submitting your assignments were aided by a blind faith on your part that everything would work out in the end. 

But it’s in grave realization that you see how much you were gambling with your future by making such poor decisions. 

And with that feeling of shame and embarrassment weighing down on you so heavily, you leave your advisor's office a few short moments later, heading to the library to meet Taesan. 

As you’re leaving, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket and unlock it to read a text that could not be more ill timed:

>leehan: what are you doing?

There couldn’t be any worse moment now than to receive such a message, after you’ve just been told that you could potentially lose your scholarship over your mindless decision making in regards to this man. And for perhaps the first time since you’ve met Leehan, you decide to let go of this manic-pixie-dream-girl image you’ve created for yourself, typing out a message that relays the completely honesty of your current situation.

>you: leehan, i failed my midterms. They’re putting me on academic probation and i might lose my scholarship. I don’t know that i’ll have much time for our “arrangement” anymore.

You stuff your phone back in your pocket right after sending it, caring little to know what Leehan will say in response. 

It’s in realization that you finally decide that making Leehan’s every thought, feeling and desire a priority in your life is a luxury you can no longer afford.

Arriving at the library a few minutes later, you wa;lw inside and observe how empty the place is. You suppose it makes sense given that most students have left for their fall break by now, not beholden to stay behind because of failing grades like you are. There’s a boy sitting by himself at one of the many tables in the library, a laptop and a few books surrounding him. You decide he’s the most likely to be the person you’re looking for and go up to approach him.

“Excuse me, are you Han Taesan?”

The boy, whose hair is uniquely marked by a streak of blonde in the back of it, looks up at you and nods.

“I’m not sure if you got the notification,” you say, pulling at your fingernails nervously. “But I’ve been assigned a tutor and you’re it. My advisor told me to meet with you today.”

Understanding finally dawning on the boy’s face, he puts down the screen of his laptop so he can fully pay attention to you and your presence. “Okay. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and even though everything from his voice and manners should have you inclined to feel less nervous, there’s something about his facial features that have you feeling intimidated. 

He’s quite good looking, but in a way that makes him seem unapproachable. 

“If you’ve been assigned to meet with me, that means you’re on academic probation, correct?”

Something about hearing those words, the assignment of your name next to the phrase academic probation , feels like a knife to the stomach. Still, the only thing you can do is nod grimly, and without intending it, you launch defensively into an explanation. “It’s not something I’m in the habit of, if that’s what you’re wondering. This is my first time, truly, and it’s just because I had a lot going on this semester.”

You expect Taesan to appear annoyed with you, just as you are with yourself when you hear those words leave your mouth. But you’re surprised when instead, he smiles. And when he does, it’s like the intimidating persona you built of him in your head immediately shatters and in place of it, you’re introduced to someone that seems really sweet.

“Listen, I know you’re probably feeling like a total failure right now. I know cause I’ve been there. But you don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/N. The last thing I want to do is make you feel judged for something that so many students go through,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders to further communicate how little of an issue this is for him. 

“Most of the time, the people I tutor don’t even need me. They’re not dumb, they just were going through something that made them deprioritize their classes. We’ve all been there before. I’m just here to be an accountability partner and help you manage the stress.”

Fighting against all the parts of you that have been feeling shame in response to today’s development, you allow Taesan’s reassurance to wash over you like a cold drink on a swelteringly hot day. 

“You’re…really nice, Taesan,” you reply, thinking of no better way to express your gratitude. “I really needed to hear that.”

“No problem. If you’re free, we can go somewhere else and begin working on those late assignments. I don’t really like staying at the library because we’ll be forced to whisper like this the whole time.”

It’s only at his observation that you become conscious of the fact that you have been indeed whispering this entire time, and it is in fact, very burdensome. “Yeah, you’re totally right. Are you cool with coming to my dorm? I live on campus, in Commons.”

Grabbing his things, he gets up to follow you, and it’s at that moment that you realize just how tall Taesan is. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Just as you’re about to leave with Taesan, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket once more. And because you completely forgot about your earlier exchange with Leehan, you don’t even consider that the message could be from him until a picture that you’re immediately swiping out of lights up your phone screen.

>leehan: he misses you :((((( [img_6785]

The image in question is a dick pic, a full frontal image with Leehan’s smartly masked face just barely peeking out at the top as he angles his phone downward. 

You go from surprised to disgusted as you remember what the picture is in response to – a candid expression of anxiety about your academic probabtion – and suddenly, you couldn’t be more sure of the negative impact that Leehan has had on your life.

More sure that if you never heard from him after today, it would be the universe's greatest gift.

“Are you okay?” asks Taesan from beside you, and it’s with great gratitude that you observe his reaction is not that of someone who accidentally saw a dick pic on someone elses phone. Steeling yourself from the shock of the unexpected message, you hum an affirmative sounding noise in reply, and with that, you exit the library. 

You walk together to your dorm that’s only 5 minutes away from the library, and as you walk, you discuss a variety of things. How and why Taesan became a tutor, the circumstances which led to you transferring from your old school, and observations on how empty campus seems to be right now. Taesan, a music major, became a tutor once he learned he could get paid for what he already liked to do, which was teach people. The more you talk to him, the more assured you feel about this arraignment and your situation at large. 

More importantly, Taesan has the ability to do something you thought no man or object could be capable of – he takes your mind off of Leehan, and moreover the picture you just received from him.

Arriving at your front door, you can feel Taesan’s eyes on you as he says, “When I started my day today, I would’ve never guessed it would lead me to a girl’s dorm room.” You giggle at the genuinely funny joke, and now, you’re looking up at Taesan as if you’re fully seeing him for the first time. 

In just a short amount of time, you’re learned that Taesan is handsome, smart, nice, and funny. 

Perhaps something other than good grades could come of this time you’re about to spend together. 

In the time that you spend looking at Taesan, still smiling in the aftermath of his joke as you let him into your dorm room, you don’t notice the fact that Leehan is waiting for you down the hallway, armed once more with a bouquet of flowers. 

After last time, he figured surprise visits would be his thing now, especially since he knew your roommate wouldn’t be there to stop him. 

He wasn’t expecting, though, that there would be someone else who would act as a barrier between the two of you. 

Someone who causes unexplainable anger and resentment to blossom unusually in his chest. 

It’s in a blur of confusion – both at himself for reacting this way and at you for being with someone other than him – that Leehan turns around and rushes for the building’s exit before either of you can see him.

part 4 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amarecerasus @cadidupped

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[ask-nurse-curly]

Welcome to Bullying Nurly Club!

[blog in chronological order]

Hello and welcome! This is an ask blog for Nurse Curly from the Roleswap AU by @omagpies (mod). Everything in character is tagged #nurlysays; everything by mod is tagged #modsays. The blog operates on a queue, but sometimes some things will be shuffled.

Another ~Official Roleswap Crew Member~: @ask-captain-anya

[roleswap au masterpost with all the art]

[Nurly's Medbay Playlist]

(OG intro) Curly is stuck in the med bay bored out of his mind, to the point where he might just respond to texts from unknown numbers. He might even doodle something on post-its (poorly. He isn't much of an artist. Isn't much of a nurse. Isn't much of anything. He's nothing. Ñ̴̨̥̟́ơ̶͚ṱ̶͛̊̕h̵͉̮͚̦͆̂̅̕į̴̣͇̑͠n̷̺͍͛̂g̷͍̼̼̾̿́̀-̴͕̬̒̓͑͝-̵̖̬̃̀̚͘ͅ)

General info and rules under the cut!

The setting is pre-crash Tulpar

The crew is as follows: Captain Anya, Co-Pilot Swansea, Mechanic Daisuke, Nurse Curly, Medical Intern Jimmy

You are communicating with Curly via his phone. Which for some reason has reception

Asks = text messages; submissions = airdropping files across the vastness of space

Regular text posts (not responses) are something between Curly's thoughts and phone notes

In ask responses, text put (in brackets like these) = Curly's asides. Sometimes tags will provide helpful context from mod :)

Curly only communicates via answering asks. If you put something in a reply or reblog, it won’t reach him

You cannot manifest in the med bay/interact with his world or other characters. Literally you all are just guys in his phone :)

You can try impersonating people Curly knows (crew mates, parents, friends, alternates etc), but he is liable to realise that you aren’t them :)*

At the same time, you are absolutely welcome to bring in OCs; if your OC shares some kind of backstory with Curly, we can either improv it or workshop a little. Hit me up here or on my main!*

You can try telling Curly that he is fictional but he will not believe you. Any media pertaining to canon mouthwashing+roleswap's 'canon' (playthroughs, art from the masterpost etc) will appear as corrupted and illegible*

* UPDATE: Curly is now somewhat more open to the idea of the multiverse. Do with that what you will

All information Curly reveals is compliant to the Roleswap AU, but the ask blog itself is not **

** UPDATE: as of Feb 16th 2024, the plot is diverging from canon roleswap :)

Curly is an Englishman; mod, however, is a silly little ESL. If Curly says something weird, assume that Anya's ESL is rubbing off on him. Also those five hours of sleep

Bullying/ribbing is fine, sexual jokes are fine (he is easily flustered), but mod reserves the right to play it by ear and not respond IC to something they find uncomfortable

Sometimes Curly will signal that you are crossing a boundary. Curly’s boundaries don’t equal mod’s boundaries, so if you want to keep pushing go ahead :)

Have fun and be yourself!!!

[pr3ttyphant0m]

🌪 | Sanemi Shinazugawa as your boyfriend headcanons | 🌪

Warnings: | Cursing | fem!reader | slight simp!Sanemi | Modern AU | Fluff + Spicy/NSFW + Crack |

For the girlies who simp for this electrocuted possum lookin ass-

💞 | Fluff headcanons:

1. HE'S SO BAD AT LOVE BUT TRIES SO HARD IT'S CUTE. He grumbles through every romantic gesture.

Like he’ll give you flowers but go, “I picked these so you'd shut up.”

You: “Aww—”

Him: “Ngh, don’t make it weird.”

2. He secretly memorized your entire skincare routine.

You were sick one night, and he followed your 12-step process with war general precision.

“Don’t worry, I used the toner after double-cleansing. I ain’t a moron.”

3. His hugs are RARE but feel like a weighted blanket with a side of “touch me and die.”

Full body, one-arm around your back, chin on your head, soft growl type beat. 💀🐺

4. Sanemi gets flustered when you compliment him.

“You’re so handsome, Nemi.”

“Shut up.” Covers his red-ass face and kicks a rock like a middle school boy.

5. He watches you sleep like you’re the last peaceful thing left on Earth.

But if you catch him he’s like “I thought you were dead for a sec.”

🔥 | SPICY HEADCANONS:

1. He’s rough and possessive—but so attentive it’s scary.

“Say it again. Who do you belong to?”

You barely breathe out his name and he’s already smirking like Satan himself.

2. Neck kisses?? Oh bestie. That’s his addiction.

He starts there and just doesn’t stop. You’re a shivering mess in 2 minutes flat.

3. He likes it when you try to take control.

Keyword: try. He’ll let you think you’re running things… until he flips the script so fast you forget your own name 💀

4. Aftercare is so gentle it makes your heart hurt.

“You good? Need anything? Water? Cuddle? A f*cking IV drip?”

He’ll carry you to bed like a princess after turning you into scrambled eggs.

5. He keeps a tally of how many times you moan his name.

“That’s five. Tryna break a record, love?”

💀 | CRACK HEADCANONS:

1. Threatens your stuffed animals if they get more cuddles than him.

“Why does does that tiny me plush get your attention more then me? He’s STUFFED. I got abs, dammit!”

2. Screams when you pour cold water on him mid-shower, but then starts a full-on water war.

House flooded. Naked chaos. No regrets.

3. “We’re not a soft couple.” — also Sanemi when you call him “baby” and he short-circuits.

“I’m not a baby… I’m a man. A god. A beast—okay fine call me that again.”

4. Tried to send you a d*ck pic once, accidentally AirDropped it to Genya.

Genya blocked him for 48 hours and is traumatized for life. Sanemi still hasn’t recovered emotionally.

5. He 100% punched a demon mid-confession.

“[Name], I love—” demon jumps out of no where “BITCH CAN YOU NOT— STRAIGHT UP DIVA SLAPS EM okay anyway I love you.”

🌸 | BONUS

1. He saw you wear his uniform jacket once and refused to take it back.

“No. That’s yours now. You stretched it out with your hot body anyway.”

2. He talks mad sh*t during sparring.

“You gonna fight me or make out with me? Cuz you’re look pretty submissive right now.”

3. You stub your toe? He’s threatening God himself.

“WHO MADE TOES?? WHO INVENTED THESE USELESS LITTLE SH*TSTICKS?? I’LL KILL ‘EM.”

4. He once said “I’d die for you” and meant it. But when you asked if he’d go to couples therapy, he said “That’s too far.”

He still went, sat there all angry with crossed arms, and ended up crying 40 minutes in.

© Pr3ttyphant0m. please do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[randomahhbrainrot]

General Deltarune Spoilers: We’re talking about the public demonization of the Soul/Player and whatever it’s called when you say ‘oh it’s a baby can do no wrong I feel so sorry for them’-ization of Kris.

I think it’s pretty ridiculous how everyone’s doubled down on the Soul/Player being an evil entity in this story ever since Chapter 3 and 4 came out. This is of course, not considering the Weird Route.

It’s like we didn’t get a single additional drop of nuance to that conversation handfed to us by Toby himself.

Now, to be clear, I’m not trying to be those people who say “Kris is evil and I’m actually the good guy here!” As I said, Toby airdropped us some quality nuance in both of the new chapters.

The nuance lies in how our relationship as the Player with Kris is a transactional one. One where we have apparently been gotten ahold of due to our ‘necessity’ according to the phone call.

Yes, Kris dislikes us and takes measures to incapacitate and contain us when they need us to not see whatever they’re doing, or just because they want a break from us. Or both, as seen with Noelle’s house.

But consider, Kris is not a bad person. They’re a bit of a problem child, but they’re not malicious. I don’t believe that they would actually be going along with a fundamentally malicious plan, even if they were coerced. This means that they must have some sort of personal stake in the plan that Team Knight is trying to pull off, whether it’s helping to find/purify Dess, or supporting Rudy or Carol (in the event either of them are the knight).

Kris has shown that whatever plan they’re a part of, it’s worth acting as double agent against Susie and Ralsei, AND taking on the Soul within themselves. Which, let’s get back to.

I highly highly doubt that Kris legitimately hates the Soul. I personally believe that they dislike us, sure, but in the way that one would dislike a grueling responsibility that saps someone of their time and energy. You don’t like that this is something you have to do, but you know that you HAVE to do it, for the sake of something down the road.

I think that the sentiment that Kris is a pure victim who’s being abused by the antics of the soul and that they don’t get to eat or whatever and we’re so shitty, I feel like shit, BLAH BLAH BLAH, it’s all a load of BS.

We were summoned from whoever we came from in the void, and taken into Kris willingly to achieve whatever it is Team Knight wishes to achieve (which I have a theory for if you check out my previous post). The process is strenuous and exhausting, but in exchange, allows Kris to do things such as sealing dark fountains and banishing darkness, something no one else can do.

I firmly believe that in the coming chapters, our relationship with Kris will finally evolve, especially once Susie realizes that she befriended two different people (Kris as a person, the Soul’s actions) and was betrayed by Kris working with the Knight. We will break up with Susie (not in that way) and leave us alone with Kris, who we will have to make peace with so that we could understand them and fight together for the same good, after which we will have to confront Susie and try to get her back on Kris’ side.

Toby believes in media, and especially games, as vessels for hope and empowerment, and that people can always do the right thing.

I highly doubt that he’d write a story where a player who had done nothing wrong gets demonized purely for following along and anyone who believes otherwise needs to lighten up.

[ask-captain-anya]

Welcome to the Tired Captain Club!

[blog in chronological order]

Hey everybody! This is an ask blog for Captain Anya from the Roleswap AU by @omagpies (not the mod, still my boss)

Sister blog to @ask-nurse-curly

Everything in character is tagged #captainsays Everything by a mod is #modsays

The blog operates on a queue, but sometimes some things will be shuffled.

[roleswap au masterpost with all the art]

{The Cockpit Playlist}

Anya has a lot of responsibilities on this ship, a lot of decisions to be made. But her phone just keeps buzzing and was not immune to the tantalizing call of a text message, even if she didn't recognize the number. She just needs a distraction! Haha! A distraction.

General info and rules under the cut!

(Did I just copy, paste, and edit these rules? Absolutely!)

The setting is pre-crash Tulpar

The crew is as follows: Captain Anya, Co-Pilot Swansea, Mechanic Daisuke, Nurse Curly, Medical Intern Jimmy

You are communicating with Anya via her phone. Which for some reason has reception

Asks = text messages; submissions = airdropping files across the vastness of space

Regular text posts (not responses) are something between Anya's thoughts and phone notes

In ask responses, text put (in brackets like these) = Anya's asides. Sometimes tags will provide helpful context from mod :)

You cannot manifest in the Tulpar/interact with her world or other characters. Literally you all are just guys in her phone :)

You can try impersonating people Anya knows (crew mates, parents, friends etc), but she is liable to realise that you aren’t them :)

At the same time, you are absolutely welcome to bring in OCs; if your OC shares some kind of backstory with Curly, we can either improv it or workshop a little. (I should have dms on for this blog)

You can try telling Anya that she is fictional but she will not believe you. Any media pertaining to canon mouthwashing+roleswap's 'canon' (playthroughs, art from the masterpost etc) will appear as corrupted and illegible

All information Anya reveals is compliant to the Roleswap AU, but the ask blog itself is not

* UPDATE: as of Feb 16th 2024, the plot is diverging from canon roleswap :)

Anya is a Russian woman; mod, however, is a silly little english speaker. If Anya says something weird, assume that Curly's english ways are rubbing off on her. Also her mind has a billion thoughts to sort through.

Bullying/ribbing is fine, sexual jokes are fine (she isn't easily flustered), but mod reserves the right to play it by ear and not respond IC to something they find uncomfortable

Sometimes Anya will signal that you are crossing a boundary. Anya’s boundaries don’t equal mod’s boundaries, so if you want to keep pushing go ahead :)

Have fun and be yourself!!!

[myquietsafehaven]

Okay controversial opinion 2 Electric Boogaloo.

Jon’s paranoia in season 2 was mostly justified.

First let me say, stalking is bad, don’t stalk your coworkers. (Especially when you are bad at it like Jon is.)

However…Everyone in the archives is so fucking suspicious like honestly.

First we have Martin ‘I lied on my resume.’ Blackwood, who is a lying liar who lies, I mean he’s lying because capitalism so good motive still lies. Not to mention leaving an incriminating letter in his trash like Jon isn’t going through that like an overgrown raccoon. (With matching eye bags.)

(But like Jon did you make the slightest effort find any information or does all your investigating consist of following your coworkers and the just staring like they’ll just airdrop the info to you. No wonder you’re the Eye’s specialist little boy.)

Timothy ‘I left a successful career to work at a disgraced Paranormal institute’ Stoker. Which when we know the reason makes sense but without that fact it’s weird. Not to mention he clearly hates his job season 2 but doesn’t quit, which again we know why but…

(Also Jon in all your stalking how did you not find out about his dead brother and finally make some connections on your red string cork board which we know you have. I can not state enough how bad Jon is at stalking.)

Finally we have Sasha who is great and normal and nothing is wrong with Sasha…In all seriousness though Sasha is the probably the least suspicious prior to being Not-Themed. Although she did think she would get Gertrude’s job so maybe motive but again the not them makes the whole thing complicated.

(NotSasha is fucking funny okay, yes she has a boyfriend named Tom who looks like a stock photo and hangs out at wax museums, nothing weird okay.)

Special mention to Elias ‘What I had motive, opportunity and found the blood, but it couldn’t be me.’ Bouchard. Honestly I’m calling Web or Eye shenanigans here for why Jon doesn’t immediately break into his house or something.

(Jon, Elias found the blood, he was alone at the time, like what part of this doesn’t immediately make you go huh…?)

In conclusion, stalking is bad, but yeah I get it. If my brain was marinating in Stranger and Web soup while the Eye was throwing up flashing warning signs. Oh and also the Spirals there for extra spiciness to run its ridiculous fingers through the soup a bit I’d be a feral raccoon too. Though I think my red string board would be better.

Also Jon is bad at stalking, like just the worse. He only gets information by having spooky powers otherwise he is not good at this eyes specialist little boy indeed.

[manlikeazi]

Could you do the same fic you made whit niko and sharky where they act akward when they like you but whit Aj?

Not So Subtle - Aj Shabeel

Summary: Aj Shabeel has been hopelessly in love with his best friend for years, but instead of confessing like a normal person, he fumbles through with his weird ways.

Pairing: Aj Shabeel x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Aj Shabeel has never been smooth.

He thinks he is, really thinks he is but you've known him long enough to see through the bravado.

You and Aj Shabeel had been best friends since primary school. He was the boy who shared his crayons with you, the one who let you cheat off his math homework which is a bad idea, since he was awful at it and the one who’d swing by your house uninvited just to raid your kitchen and annoy your siblings. You knew every version of him, that gangly kid Aj, awkward teen Aj, slightly older but definitely not taller and just-as-goofy grown-up Aj.

But lately?

Lately he’d been… weird.

Like weird weird.

It started small. You thought maybe he was just tired. Or going through something. Or worse, had a secret girlfriend and was about to deliver the "we can’t be as close anymore" speech,  which you were not emotionally prepared for but then the signs piled up

He's been hopelessly, undeniably, devastatingly in love with you for years. But instead of just saying it like a normal person, he's opted for... Aj-isms. Subtle chaotic behaviors. Odd little gestures. You've been around him for so long that you can't help to notice this weird compilation of weird thing he did around you.

First is the hoodie incident.

You're chilling in his room, scrolling through your phone on his bed. Aj walks in, sees you wearing his grey hoodie, the one with the faded logo and he pauses like someone hit him with a frying pan.

He doesn't say anything.

Just blinks.

And then immediately turns around and walks back out.

"Aj?" You asked.

"One sec!" Aj said, already sprinting down the halls.

One sec turns into five minutes. When he finally comes back, he's got a bottle of water in one hand and a pack of biscuits in the other. Doesn't acknowledge the hoodie. Not once. Just drops the snacks next to you and settles on the floor like he's never been affected by anything in his life.

Later, you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow.

"You got a crumb on your—your cheek. I'm just... observing" Aj saida while he panics. 

"Observing?" You asked, eyebrow raised.

"Scientifically" Aj said as he clears his throat. 

You don't even bother replying.

Second, comes the boyfriend comment when you both are still in university before he dropped out.

You mention someone from uni texting you after class. Casual and not even flirty.

Aj goes dead quiet. Doesn't look at you for the rest of the conversation. You think he's zoning out until he suddenly blurts.

"He's not that funny, by the way" Aj said out loud.

"Huh?" You asked with a frown.

"The guy, you said he sent you memes. I've seen his memes, mid-level humor at best" Aj said it like it personally offended him.

"Aj, you went through his socials?" You asked with a stare. 

"I just happened to see it, in passing" Aj said with a shrug.

"...Okay" You said, still suspicious.

Later that night, you get a mysterious airdrop while you're sitting in the same room.

It's a meme. A stupid one. About frogs dancing in suits.

Captioned with"See? THIS is funny. Send this to your little 'haha guy'"

Third is the arm around your shoulders.

You're both walking through the park after grabbing food, fries in hand, cold breeze blowing through. You shiver slightly.

Aj's jacket is off before you can blink. He throws it over your shoulders dramatically, like he's in a drama series.

"Are you good??" You asked as you laughed.

"Your jacket now" Aj mutters.

"Didn't you say you were freezing like ten minutes ago?" You asked as you raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm fine, I have... warmth of personality" Aj said.

You scoff, but keep the jacket. It smells like his cologne mixed with his natural scent.

You don't give it back.

He never asks.

But the next day, he's wearing a whole new hoodie you've never seen before.

When you ask about it, he just shrugs. 

"Emergency hoodie, incase you steal again" Aj said.

Then lastly is the almost confession

You're sat side by side on the couch, watching a movie about some animated rom-com with too much glitter. You're not really watching though. You're looking at him, wondering why his hand keeps fidgeting with the blanket like he's psyching himself up for something.

Suddenly, he speaks.

"Hey" Aj said.

You hummed as a response, while he takes a deep breath. 

"If... like, hypothetically... if someone knew someone who maybe liked someone else. Like, a lot. For years. And they were best friends or whatever like close, really close... do you think that someone should say something?" Aj asked, awkwardly.

"...Is this about Niko? Who's he into?" You asked as you blinked, too confused at the situation.

"What? No! Forget Niko--this is like, completely not related to him" Aj said as he gives you the most offended expression.

"Okay... So is this person you?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and a smug smirk.

"No! Nah, what? Pfft. Please, I'm just... curious" Aj said as he scoffs, but his ears turn pink. 

"So you're hypothetically in love with your best friend?" You said as you eyed him. 

He doesn't deny it.

Instead, he picks up a pillow and hugs it like it's a shield. 

"Wouldn't say in love. That's a strong word" Aj said it like he was trying to be nonchalant and expressive at the same time.

You keep staring.

"But like... maybe a strong like. Like heavy-like. Intense-like, like bordering-on-pathetic-like" Aj mumbles under his breath.

You don't even realize your heart's racing until you feel your hand gripping the couch cushion.

"Aj--" You said as he cuts you off.

"I don't need an answer. Not now but I just wanted to... put that out there. In the air. Hypothetically, for science" Aj said, definitely blushing.

You stare at him for a beat. Then another and then finally, you whispered.

"You're an idiot" You said.

"Okay, fair--" Aj said as he winces. 

"But I like you too, you prick" You said with a smile. 

"You what?!" Aj asked as he freezes midway after saying that.

"Heavy-like, bordering-on-pathetic. I've been waiting on you to do something about it for ages" You said as you leaned closer, nudging him with your shoulder. 

"...So this is real?" He said after he blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a soft, breathy laugh.

"Looks like it" You said as you grinned. 

He stares at you like you just handed him the universe.

Then he beams, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Okay" Aj says, suddenly standing up and clapping his hands. 

"Cool, cool. Casual. I'm gonna go scream into a pillow real quick but I'll be right back. Do not move" Aj said.

You laughed as he bolts into his room. The door shuts. You hear a muffled scream.

Yeah, he's not in love. He swears.

But everyone including you knows he absolutely is.

- end -

Hello lovelies!! Omgs am I really being consistent?!!??!! lmao

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

[wolfertinger]

"harassing me over my fetish art is lame-" Salem everyone knew about the diaperfur art and age regression. You've even said it yourself at points (although mentioned being uncomfortable/scared of being fully open with it) the diaperfur shit is the least of the problems here, truely- its a weird fetish people don't like for a lot of reasons but no one really cares about adult salem being in a diaper past the fact that you pasted sawyers statements about being uncomfortable with it on your porn No salem, people could care less about the fetish. we all knew about the fetish. you have been airdropping hints about having those fetishes for the past year anyway- we care that you were caught being in discord circles TALKING ABOUT CHILD INCEST RAPE FANTASIES. the fact that you were hanging around in circles dedicated to posting graphic, detailed descriptions of children and animals in extreme situations. we're pissed that we have full confirmation that this isn't just the company you keep, its the company you hang out with and seek out. "private fetish art" oh but you were 'privately' posting it to a discord about propara shit with a heavy focus on children and animals? if it was private salem, people wouldnt have the screenshot. you were seeking out discords all about this kinda thing to post this shit in, and that means you were cool with the other shit being posted. If posting on this blog makes us kiwifarmers, sorry- posting in the "children being assaulted by animals is sexy" server says something about you too. Also lets not forget this was art clearly made as some haha funny clapback at sawyer saying you sexualize that shit and was uncomfortable, which you then posted there.

.

[ladyoflucky]

Wait, if MC ship has some food, do you think MC will sneak to their ship to get their more perishable ingredients? Maybe lots of guards cuz MC have tried to escaped with their space ship, but failed and is now waiting for a chance.

Also, I do think MC should have fun with coded languages. Maybe, ARG bullshittery, like hiding images in sounds. Or weird obscure ass reference under piles of references, that they can't figure out if it's MC being MC, or they are relaying info.

The ship was virtually raided, only things on it being what the ship needs to function, so MC already has all their perishables, so MC anywhere near the ship = high alert.

MC ‘airdropping’ an image to the servitors but it’s a low quality meme mocking Big E. Or it’s something that looks normal unless you look at it from the wrong direction and now there’s rumors of a daemon possessed image circulating in the Imperium

[justkillingthyme]

oh puts the entire au in my MOUTH this is so cool. immediate thoughts of: - luke language barrier... aw poor buddy. i can just imagine the frustration of ''man what the hell, i can talk to THOSE animals just fine, why not THESE ones'' - tbh fascinated and delighted by feral luke just on the face of it. kid who is weird and scampers. this little beast is a bite risk - ohh emmy girlie you can't catch a break huh... yeah the person who was raised in a cult WOULD be susceptible to cult tactics wouldn't she - FLORA MENTIONED WOOOO FLORA 💪🔥💯 i'm so interested in how st. mystere is handling the apocalypse considering the Everything about the situation. you can have an adoptive guardian airdropped to you like a wolf being released into yellowstone but watch out! The Consequences.

It’s 2:43 am and I’m on the verge of tears laughing at the Hershel Layton airdropping

The golems that found St. Mystere luckily are more of a “oh these poor primitive robots <:3) than “I NEED to kill humankind’s creations” luckily. St Mystere (and its humans) are treated more like watching animals and giving them enrichment every so often. They haven’t figured out how to enlighten (or give true consciousness) to the bots, but they’re working on it. Father figure airdrop!

Hershel is Literally Just Some Guy now. Because what is he without all his trauma, and that’s all gone. Relatively, he’s the most well adjusted of everyone which is saying something.

He relates a lot to the puzzle solving robots (autism) and doesn’t know exactly why that is but they’re just vibing with this slightly eccentric guy that lives there now. Bruno is more skeptical, but Flora is ecstatic at having another live human person to talk to, so he lets it go.

Emmy’s so susceptible to cult tactics it’s not even funny. She doesn’t remember anything, much less targent, and these girls saved her so why shouldn’t she trust them? Who is she to deny them if they need help? It’s not like she has anywhere else to go. She doesn’t even know who she is.

Luke is feral. He can and will bite. Literal child raised by cat (Keats is very tame but they come across a few animals that influence how Luke behaves) who will hiss. He does chomp Des a few times. They have to do the thing you do with cats where you just sit in the room with them until they’re comfortable because he hides under the bed for days after he’s on the Bostonius. He understands parts of English, but Keats is more fluent than him. Cause canonically Keats knows English. Fun fact

[mystery-moose]

GAMES I PLAYED IN 2024: A LIST

Went looking through my Steam Replay thingy, and decided to type up some thoughts on my favorite games I played this year! Here they are in roughly chronological order:

Helldivers 2 rules. It nails the tone and atmosphere of its inspiration (the Paul Verhoeven masterwork Starship Troopers) so well that it renders me almost totally uninterested in the officially licensed and apparently quite good Starship Troopers games that came out recently! It's a perfectly absurdist, hilarious satire that's played so straight it almost becomes cool! Right up until you get into the game. Because yeah, when things go well, you can feel really cool and badass and like you're in an intense sci-fi war movie... but the real strength of Helldivers is its comedy, and I don't mean the writing. I mean the ragdolling, the constant, impossibly big explosions, the deaths that come fast and furious and reduce you to giblet gravy, and the respawn being a whole new, fresh Helldiver that airdrops in to replace the dead one. It either feels incredibly tense and tactical, or it feels like cartoon slapstick comedy, and there's almost no middle ground. It threads both needles simultaneously like no other game before.

Now, some folks might be mad when, say, the Democracy Space Station the entire community contributed to building does nothing but shell the shit out of whatever planet its orbiting, to the point that most missions on said planet become suicide runs that result in dozens of dead Helldivers. They might also be mad when the devs add mines with blast zones so large they kill Helldivers as much as enemies, or rocket launchers that airburst almost immediately and teamkill constantly, or a car with a manual transmission that handles like a drunk walrus when its tires get popped. But I think these things rule, because these things contribute to Helldivers greatest strengths: comedy and chaos.

I did fall off it for a few months, when it got a bit stale. There was a period where they nerfed a bunch of guns, and frankly I understand why they did, and equally understand why they rolled it back. The game has had controversies, live service problems, Sony-driven publisher nonsense and recently some microtransactions I thought were poorly priced, but on the whole? The galactic warfront has kept me in their discord just to know how things are going even when I'm not playing, and that's not something I do for basically any other game!

If you want a good time in co-op, and you like third-person shooting and some crackerjack production values, and you like to laugh (sometimes at yourself), you will love Helldivers 2!

Dragon's Dogma 2 is not a perfect game. It's not even close. It has a ton of issues with a lack of variety in its content, a story that struggles with pacing issues and maintaining interest, and some awkward AI that renders a number of skills less useful than they should be.

That being said, there is no other game like Dragon's Dogma. It is tactile and mechanically deep, with class customization built around a combat system that feels exceptionally satisfying to use. It has a genuine sense of multiplayer shenanigans and camaraderie in a single-player game, through its customizable NPCs that you summon from other players. It creates stories about being dragged away by wolves or carried away on the back of a griffon and ending up in another part of the world, encountering monsters fighting each other or attacking caravans... and there's truly nothing like emerging into a canyon, seeing a troll fighting a dragon, running down and climbing all over the beastie and stabbing it until it dies. The vibes are immaculate, and that carried me through most of the game on its own.

I still need to get through the ending (that's not an ending) and the new game plus (that's not a new game plus) but even without completing it, I have a lot of fondness for this weird, weird game. I wish parts of it were better -- like a LOT better -- and I still think it has content issues that could have been solved by another year or two in the oven... but god (and Capcom) willing, some DLC or an expansion will get us there. I'd purchase it in a heartbeat!

Halls of Torment and Death Must Die are two "bullet heaven" games I played this year! Halls of Torment is aping the aesthetic of Diablo 1 and 2, while Death Must Die (pictured above) is doing more of a pixelart, Hades-like kind of thing with its buffs and boons. They both have a heavy loot focus, and a lot of progression, but they're both satisfying in different ways. They're both in early access, but content-rich, and I'd recommend them both -- that is, if you've already played Vampire Survivors and exhausted it and wanted more. Vampire Survivors is, of course, still king of its genre.

Homeworld 3 is the most disappointed I've been by a game in years. Blackbird Interactive have done good work in the past, helped put together the excellent Homeworld Remastered Collection, made Homeworld: Deserts of Kharak which for my money still has immaculate vibes and an excellent aesthetic, and also put out Hardspace: Shipbreaker! They've made great games in the past! So how this game turned out the way it did... I can only blame Gearbox and their meddling, because holy god.

There are mechanical issues like ships not following orders correctly, the pathfinding being kind of nightmarish, and the gimmick of superstructures and cover almost never mattering outside of a handful of campaign moments. The season pass (because of course it had one) had a bizarre focus on a very odd co-op multiplayer run-based mode, for some reason, rather than skirmish multiplayer -- which also had a dearth of maps and modes at launch.

But all of that doesn't matter so much to me, because what matters to me when it comes to Homeworld is the vibes. The aesthetic. The ice-cool, clinical, sweeping sci-fi space opera. Less a focus on named characters and more a focus on grander civilizations, politics, or enemies. Even Deserts of Kharak, set on a single planet, captured these vibes. And instead we got... some of the most awkwardly animated, ham-handedly written, and cartoonish cutscenes I've seen in a game in a good while. When the villain shows up in a main character's dream sequence and vamps around like a Dreamworks villain about to break into song, that's when I put the game down. I still haven't gone back.

I preordered the goddamn collector's edition of this. I never do that! I should know better! But I made the mistake of thinking a pedigree and proven track record are enough to bet on. Frankly, I think they should be -- maybe Gearbox and their story consultants and brand managers are just poisonous. Regardless, this was a real king-size bummer for me this year. Homeworld is dead now -- I can't imagine it getting another swing after this. But believe me when I say it deserved better.

The Dead Space remake is, against all expectations, absolutely fantastic. There are some quibbles I have here and there; I think the new performances from the supporting cast are a little flat. I think Kyne in particular loses a lot of ambiguity. The story and characterization elsewhere has been made less cartoonish or obvious, but given that Dead Space is a pretty corny horror yarn, it loses some charm as a result. But other characters like Isaac and especially Nicole benefit tremendously from a rewrite, giving them agency and likability they did not have before, and the wrinkles they add in their relationship are fantastic.

And mechanically? Wow. The game has never played better, moved better, been structured better. Some areas feel different, more a sidegrade than an upgrade, but others, especially in the new dark sections? Awesomely spooky. I happily started a new game plus of this and I fully intend to go back to it every October like I do Dead Space 2. It's SO good. That we were denied a new sequel is proof positive that EA sucks eggs.

Space Marine 2 is a 7/10 action game from the Xbox 360 era, shined up and given some quality multiplayer features. I mean that as the highest compliment; we don't get many of those these days! It is one of the best representations of Warhammer as an aesthetic and a vibe, and mechanically it is incredibly satisfying. I don't think a parry and riposte has felt this good since Sifu or Sekiro, at least in terms of sound design and impact. And the multiplayer! Simple, effective, an satisfying, with fun separate progressions for co-op and PvP. Every part of this package is far better than it has any right to be, at every level. You don't need to be a Warhammer nerd to like this game, in fact it's a pretty neat introduction, but for super nerds or just sometimes fans like me? Certain setpieces are absolute cinema. Can't wait for that horde mode to hit next year!

If Homeworld 3 is the most I've been disappointed by a game, the Silent Hill 2 remake might be the most I've been surprised by one. I had zero expectations for this thing, given the developer's previous output, and Silent Hill 2 itself is one of those games that is genuinely Important Art. Not just on its own merits, but in how it influenced creatives in basically every other form of art there is. There's an argument to be made that Silent Hill 2 has quietly influenced more horror media than damn near anything else since 2002. And it earned that.

So when this remake turned out to be... like, actually great? And not just great, but restrained? Thoughtful, even? That's amazing. The core story remains the same, whole cutscenes lifted almost word for word, but the changes they do make are not made solely to be different or justify its existence; they're done purposefully, because time has passed, because the game now flows from its scenes and environments more fluidly. Because they wanted to add (or emphasize) certain aspects of characterization. And the scenes they do add are so in keeping with the rest that it's hard to tell where the new stuff begins and ends. Heck, even the new endings they added are kind of amazing!

This is the remake that Silent Hill 2 deserved. The original is still exceptional, and should be preserved, but if this is the only way someone can experience this story? That's okay. This has single-handedly made me interested in whatever Bloober Team makes next, and I hope that whatever it is, they can channel the talent that made this, rather than their previous output.

I have not yet completed Dragon Age: The Veilguard, but I can tell you now that it is good. Maybe not great! But good. Solid. It has mechanically dense and interesting combat, an exceptionally cool skill tree and class customization system, accessibility options out the wazoo, and some really great production values. It has fun characters (some more than others) and a really fun protagonist. Some of the writing can be... heavy-handed, I'll say. And some of it is obvious, or hammy, or kind of pat. It feels very different than past Dragon Age games, for better AND for worse. I'm gonna have a bunch of thoughts on it when I'm done, I can tell!

But as a showing for BioWare, to prove that they're still capable of putting out RPGs that matter? That their formula, as old as it is, still works? That they still belong in the conversation after Larian's Baldur's Gate 3? I think this is a tremendous success.

Maybe the ending will fumble the bag really badly. That's been known to happen in BioWare games! But even then, I'd still have had a lot of fun playing this thing.

And if nothing else? Man, the next Mass Effect is gonna be AWESOME. (If they're allowed to make it...)

I Am Your Beast is the latest game from Strange Scaffold, the folks what made El Paso, Elsewhere, Clickolding, Space Warlord Organ Trading Simulator, and An Airport For Aliens Currently Run By Dogs. If nothing else, their title game is on point. My only experience with them was El Paso, a game written and performed by one of the main leads, Xalavier Nelson Jr. And let me tell you, that game put them on my radar.

And while El Paso, Elsewhere was a Max Payne pastiche, a game about relationships and a breakup and addiction and emotional catharsis filtered through slow-mo dives through windows shooting shotguns at werewolves, I Am Your Beast is a smaller, leaner production. It is about a guy who killed for the government, who doesn't wanna kill for the government anymore, and when they send men to make him do that, he kills them all. That's it, basically -- and yet the narrative, told entirely through voice acting and typography without a single animated cutscene or face in the entire game, is one of the most quietly confident and cathartic I've seen in a while. It's a revenge thriller, of the John Wick sort, but the simple humanity and humor that Xalavier and his fellow voice actors imbue into the characters in such a series of short scenes is really incredible. It's the sort of game I've kind of always wanted; a stylish riff on a popular subgenre of film that makes you feel like you're in it. Because for as much as video games ape movies, there's surprisingly few games that really do what this game does, or feel like how this game feels!

And mechanically? The game is a just a bit stiff, such that you can tell it didn't have as much money or time as maybe it could have used. But even with that, it is still fast and smooth and extremely satisfying. The game loads as fast as it moves, so when you fuck up, you can reset in less than a second and start right over, Super Meat Boy style. This is necessary, as it is a fast, score-based shooter that can demand a lot of you if you want to complete all the optional objectives, let alone S-rank everything. But really, the action IS the juice, the raw lizardbrain satisfaction of nailing headshot after headshot, running a route through a map that you've planned after numerous attempts and getting it just right, just perfect, with a little room for improvisation along the way. And your reward? Another great little bit of voice acting, some characterization, and another killer tune to vibe to as you shoot your way through another army of goons.

I Am Your Beast is very close to being the best possible version of itself, but even falling just short of that, it's still one of the absolute best games I've played this year, or any year. It's short, it's sweet, it's cathartic as hell, and it has one of the best final levels of any game I've played. I'm a sucker for when a song drops into gameplay, especially with lyrics, and boy they save that for a final level that's more a celebration than a challenge. This game kicks ass, and if you get anything from this list? I'd say get this one, for real.

Karate Survivor is another in the burgeoning subgenre of "bullet heaven," aka Vampire Survivors-clones. But this one is different, because it requires actual gameplay!

I jest, but this game does feel more active and more involving in terms of positioning than most games in this genre. Instead of building a suite of weapons that autofire, you're building a combo string that auto fires, and each attack goes in a specific direction with a specific arc of damage, and they're each part of different styles and different sequences that boost damage and add bonus effects when linked together and... you can see how there's some juice here!

But more importantly, Karate Survivor does something I did not expect: it made me feel like Jackie Chan. There are games that let you do a fight scene -- Sifu is one of my all-time favorite games, and that has some environmental stuff you can do, ottomans you can kick and bottles you can throw and tables to dive over, but it's all just a bit self-serious, a bit too cool. And that's good! I like those vibes! But a Jackie Chan movie, a good one? That has something different. There's an element of danger, of threat, of physicality and pain for sure, but there's also a distinct element throughout the choreography of slapstick comedy, of using the environment in creative ways.

And that's what this game does -- you have environmental interactions. You direct your karate man over to some bottles, and he'll automatically chuck them at the nearest enemy. He'll kick chairs and buckets, he'll pick up brooms and shovels and ladders, he'll kick out a support and send a shack tumbling down on his attackers. You can run up walls, you can throw open doors to smack dudes in the face (a move lifted directly from Rumble in the Bronx) and you can pole vault into locked rooms or across rooftops. The act of moving, of positioning yourself to funnel attackers and utilize the environment and grab whatever is laying around? That's Jackie Chan, baby. And no other game has really captured that feeling like this one has!

Karate Survivor fully justifies itself not as a clone of Vampire Survivors, but as its own game. It is unique, it has some excellent pixel art, it kicks ass, and best of all, it is very cheap. Absolutely check it out if you can!

Balatro is my game of the year. It kind of has to be. Yeah, I'm sure Astro Bot is incredible, I'll play it someday and love it death I'm sure. I hear that Indiana Jones game is shockingly excellent too! And Shadow of the Erdtree? I mean come on!

But you don't understand. You don't get it. I didn't either -- I thought I was over deckbuilding roguelikes, and the poker aesthetic? Who could care! I mean I like poker and all, but as a video game? Meh.

Then I watched someone play it for just a few minutes, and I knew I had to try it. Then I got it on mobile, and it was all over.

Balatro is a dopamine factory. Not in the same way that Vampire Survivors is, where it's all in the presentation and after a certain point the game sort of falls away and it's just flashing lights making brain chemicals happen. Balatro is a thinker. You gotta plan, you gotta react. You gotta play the right hands, get your cards in the proper order to maximize score. You gotta build your run on the fly, depending on the jokers you find. There is not a moment in Balatro that you are not making some meaningful decision, no matter how small or short. It has one of the best UI designs in games, with some really smart flourishes that make my pleasure centers light up like a Christmas tree. It is a game that you can break such that your high score is in scientific notation, but luck is also a factor, and you'll rarely see this unless you dig into seed science. It has a bunch of different decks that all radically change how you play, and a bunch of challenge modes that demand you play a certain way, and you're always unlocking one of the 150 jokers in the game that each completely change how you build your strategy.

Balatro is available on PC and mobile. Get it on both. You pay like fifteen bucks, and you get everything. No DLC, no microtransactions, no actual gambling, ever. The whole game. I've put at least fifty hours into this thing, probably more, and I'll put more into it in 2025. If I get the PC version, I might investigate the mod scene! People are adding new jokers that break the game even more! One-man developer LocalThunk is a baller, and I can't wait to see what he makes next, but if all he ever does is this? He's earned a spot in the history of this medium.

Balatro is the closest to a perfect game I've seen since Vampire Survivors. That two games this monumental by solo devs have come out so close together is proof enough to me that, for all its many MANY problems, we are in a golden age of video games. I sincerely hope it inspires tons of folks to make their own! So I can lose hundreds of hours to those, too.

[ask-time-loop-curly]

Polle Says: Put the Captain in the Torment Nexus!

Hello! This is an ask blog for Captain Curly as he appears in my fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/62844429. Everything in character will be tagged #captainsays, everything from mod will be #modsays. companion blog: Steve the alien god who occasionally talks to curly blog in order: here

Curly is, unfortunately for him, currently experiencing a time loop that resets whenever he dies. The time loop always returns him to the day he takes the psych eval, and he may "reset" a few times over the course of the blog. Curly is also the only person who remembers the Bad Timeline, which is the plot of the game. He is also the only person on board the Tulpar who knows about the time loop at all. (Mod Edit: Anya now knows about some of the time loops but not all of them!) Curly is currently exhausted and desperate enough to start reading random texts that appear on his phone just for the distraction of it.

Rules below the cut!

The setting is pre-crash, but you can reference things that happened in the post-crash setting.

You are talking to Curly through his phone. It has reception due to the weird space-time wormhole he's currently occupying. Asks = text messages, submissions = airdropped files, posts are just little asides he makes in his notes app. Any text in brackets [like this] are his personal thoughts, not an actual part of the reply, however you can see and respond to them.

You cannot physically appear on board, you are just Random Strangers From His Phone :)

Impersonation of people Curly knows is perfectly fine, but he might realize you are lying :)

If you would like to include an OC, that is both welcome and encouraged! You can DM mod here to set that up if you would like!

You can try telling him he is fictional/a character from a video game but he will simply not believe you

Curly is an Irishman, however mod is not, and if mod makes any Americanisms you can assume the lack of sleep and General Suffering is getting to him (and Jimmy's American slang)

Bullying is fine and in fact encouraged, sexual jokes/innuendos are also fine, however mod reserves the right to not reply IC if mod finds it uncomfortable/too far

Curly might also sometimes indicate you are crossing a boundary. This does not usually mean the mod's boundaries have been crossed, so do with that as you will :)

Have fun and be yourself!

POLLE SAYS: LEND A HAND!

[fandomsoda]

Airdropping a new character on y’all

This is Annulus! He’s an old OC I dug up and spruced up for modern use!

He’s a conceptual fusion (not literally a fusion of the characters themselves, but of their concepts) of Dream and Nightmare and is a chaotic mess of an emotional protector. He’s supposed to be keeping the balance but he’s constantly being thrown into chaos and weird situations. His moral compass is a roulette wheel and he’s just generally Doing His Best™️. He’s heavily bug-themed because I noticed that the DT siblings each kind of have a certain type of animal theming (Dream has a lot of wing and bird imagery, NM a lot of deep sea life inspo) and thus I just chose another heavily nonhuman animal classification to make him.

Technically speaking he’s not actually related to the Dreamtale siblings, but he is very much their found family and I’d very much prefer if everyone treated him as if he were their brother.

Also clarifying right now- Annulus is very much an insect, not an arachnid. Those extra little pincer things are called cerci! Also the weird eclipse halo thing he has is optional and decorative, not essential to his design just a pretty little thing.

more info under the cut! :3

Annulus is also a tree spirit, and he originates from Celestialtale (name subject to change)! He has his own apples, which are. A ride.

They can instantly stabilize an emotionally disregulated person but if someone who is emotionally stable eats one, they get assigned a random disregulation, like a sudden emotional status condition. So yeah just be careful with those. Also they look like this!

Additional clarifications:

his little wing-looking cape thing is two pieces!

He’s so part-bug that his bone structure is actually slightly different!

Observe :3

that’s about all for now, hope you like him! Also he’s open for asks, you can ask him (or me about him) anything!

[blair-s-world]

Simulation Cartridge

You visit Budapest to attend Sziget Festival. You meet Alex.

This is the first part. 

Mentions of smoking.

No fluff or smut or angst. Just building the story.

Also remember this?

It was the last day of the festival. The line up was perfect. Not to forget, you saw one of your favourite bands. The Arctic Monkeys. The set was everything a fan could dream of. You and your friends were thankful that you got to experience it.

You and your girls come back to the hotel room, all laughing and dancing. Two of your friends just passed out in their room. You and your bestfriend were sitting on the floor and having last drinks before sleeping. It was just to commemorate your success of this girls trip. Both of you start to show each other photos that were clicked, of the group and the acts.

You happen to stumble upon a specific photo of Alex. In this faded shirt that your friend took, you immediately ask her to airdrop it to you. She looks at you confused. But does it.

The photo:

Both of you weren’t sleepy at all, so you decide to go on a stroll outside. Summer in Budapest was calm. You tried finding a decent place that was open and there was a small bar with twinkling lights just around the corner. Both of you went in and ordered yourself a whiskey coke. You don’t know why you did so, there was a weird electricity in you tonight. Again, you and your best friend did chat about anything and everything that was possible.

Thirty minutes into all this, you notice a guy approaching your friend. You push her to make conversation. He was tall, had a very different accent, he had brown and blonde hair. Both of them were in deep in their own little world. You took this as a cue to go outside for a smoke, whiskey made you smoker.

You take your drink and you go outside and sat on the porch. Fumbling through your bag to find your pack. You find you lighter instead. You were desperate. You give up and growl, “ fuck me”

“ Already? ” you hear a manly voice

You look around and you see a guy smoking, not looking at you, you murmur a sorry to him.

He doesn’t look at you still but asks , “ lost something? ” and smiles, you could see his muscles soften, you smile at him, first you keep your hands on your hips then run your left hand in your hair, “ Uhm yeah yeah, I was looking for my smokes. I guess I forgot to keep it, or I’m just too tired to look for it or I don’t know… ”

He puts his hand, in his jean pocket and brings out a pack, gives you a smoke. You jog in your heels to get it, whisper a Thankyou and get to your old place.

You don’t try to look at him and he doesn’t try to impress you either but both of you could feel the tension around.

What tension?

The dim lit porch, chatter and music in background, yellow lights & smoke in the air.

Both of you felt alone together.

The man clears his throat and comes near you as he plans to walk in. You examine him. He smiles at you and you smile at him.

You stub your cigarette after a while & went inside to see your bestfriend is still chatting up with the guy. You smile at her and you look around and you notice the same man, sitting with a group of his friends. You ask the bar man to send a glass of whiskey towards that man asking what he was drinking. You take the bar pen and scribble a thank you for the smoke on a napkin and asked if same could be sent out along. The bar man did so.

You didn’t do any of this to flirt. You did because you felt so. Remember the electricity?

Your bestfriend looks at you and asks you things & starts ranting about this man she was talking. There’s a good chance they sleep in tonight.

“ So, he is here after work. He works at a construction company. I suppose he lays concrete. God, his eyes… ” you best friend blabbed

The bar man comes back to you with a note in his hand that read -

Pleasure & thank you. - Alexander

Your best friend stops and asks, “ who is this Alexander & why is he taking any kind of pleasure? And why is he thanking you? WHAT DID YOU DO??? ” she whisper shouts.

" he gave me a smoke & i returned the favour w a drink ”, you said as you look at his side and to her.

Your bestfriend starts to follow your gaze, and slaps your arm, “ Alexander? You mean Alex? Dude you just had a smoke with Alex Turner from the Arctic Monkeys. ” she responds looking at you and him alternately.

“ what, wait what? ” you look at her and the man.

That’s when it comes to reality. Yes. That man was indeed Alex. You were so drunk. You didn’t realise anything. Both of you laugh out at each other.

You look at the man who was looking at you now and you gesture with your index finger and your middle finger for another smoke and he nods.

You bestfriend vanished as her god of a man was back.

You were again back at the porch. With Alex by your side but no words spoken. He lights a cigarette and gives it to you. But doesn’t light one for himself yet. You mouth a thank you to him.

You start humming the tune of Sculptures of Anything goes

Within both of you chuckle and burst into laughter.

“ so you know who I am ” he still isn’t looking at you.

“ took me a minute but I did, sorry I didn’t want to make it awkward for you. And honestly, I really needed a smoke. ” you gesture to the cigarette in your hand.

He takes a fag as you hold on to the light.

“ Mhm.

It’s okay.

Wanna go for a walk? ” he said as he looks at the way out.

You look at him and try to look in the bar towards your friend who is still talking to the guy. God she’s a chatter.

“ yes. Just take a lap? ” you respond & adjust your jacket.

Both of you start walking. He walked at you pace. You examine him. God. He was wearing the same shirt as he did in the gig. He looked so comfortable without any effort.

“ so what brings you here? Ms. ? ” he asked. Again not looking at you.

“ Miss Y/N. the festival. Girls trip. ” you replied as you look at your shoes.

“ did you watch us? ”

“ Yes. ”

“ did you like it? ”

“ Yes. ”

Much for a conversation.

Much for a conversation where he is not looking at you.

“ why don’t you look me when you talk to me? ” you asked him hurriedly.

He stopped walking. Looked at you. Deep in your eyes. Stern with his muscles. You could feel his breath on you this time.

“ because the first time I did, it made me come ahead for a smoke and walk w you ” he said without an emotion.

Both of you continue walking. No words exchanged.

Never did you expect to enjoy silence with someone. That too with a man like him?

Both of you reach the porch again. You see your best friend and the guy waving at you and you realise that she’s leaving.

“ You know her ” He asked you.

“ That’s my friend. I guess she is going to have a good night. ” you chuckled.

“ what about you? ” he asks

“ me? ” you ask with a shock

“ yes, you. Miss y/n ” he spoke w a lower tone

“ guess I’ll go back to the room. Listen to music. Not yours. But just waste time you know. ” you didn’t think before speaking and your face change as he looked at you.

“ I can listen to your music aswell. ” you responded in order to make a compensation. You were really star stuck. Hm.

“ waste your time with me? ” a smile formed on his face.

•••

Join in the tag list via DMs.

Feedback appreciated.

•••

[earhartsease]

Chimborazo is an amazing phenomenon - it's an extinct volcano in the Ecuadorean Andes

and while Everest is the highest mountain above sea level, Chimborazo is something else: because it's almost on the equator (and the earth is an oblate spheroid, which means it bulges around the middle), the peak of Chimborazo is the highest point (or as the wiki article says poetically, the utmost point) from the centre of the earth

and what this means is that if you go up there and then jump up and down, gravity is noticeably less than at sea level

we have always longed to do this - we're a wheelchair user now so we'd have to be airdropped, and our jumping up and down days are over, but we'd still love to see it and feel it - anyway we thought you'd like to know about it and look isn't it pretty

and the only reason we know about it is a very weird chain of events in which near the end of 2000, we were on a solitary retreat and over the course of three days had an entire novel dumped into our psyche out of nowhere, which made us go and look stuff up when we got home

this novel is never going to get finished because we just don't have the spoons, but we can tell you that one plot point concerns the head of Orpheus making its way from the greek islands (with the artist Augustus Earle) to the Beagle (Darwin's exploratory ship), getting left on one of the Galápagos islands by Darwin, taken to Ecuador by Melville (he of Moby-Dick), and then taken to England by Edward Whymper, the first white guy to climb Chimborazo - thus incidentally causing the eruption of Krakatoa (where Orpheus' genitals were being kept - it's an equilibrium thing)

do not ask us to explain where any of this came from because we have no idea, it's one of the weirder things that has happened to us