#Like. Just stills. Not even... Videos or whatever

[demie90s]

Lessons

Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader

NAVI | MORE

Summary: Paige Bueckers has been your best friend for years always there, always close, always quietly watching you give yourself to a man who didn’t know what to do with a body like yours.

Genre: Smut, Best-Friends-to-Lovers, Sneaky Dominance

Word Count: ~ 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT. Fingering, oral (f receiving), toy use (vibrator), squirting, power dynamics, possessiveness, light choking/restraint, recorded consented sexual content, aftercare,

It’s 1:38 a.m. when you call her. You don’t even say hi.

“…he couldn’t even find it.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Paige sighs. “I told you.”

You let the phone fall back against the pillow as you groan, frustration raw in your throat. “No, you don’t get to ‘I told you’ me right now, Paige. I let him try. I tried. And he still—God, he said, ‘is this it?’ Is this it, Paige.”

You hear a shuffle, like she’s already getting up. “I’m on my way.”

She’s in your bed twenty-five minutes later. Hoodie, sweats, lips pressed together like she’s doing everything in her power not to laugh in your face.

“You know I’m not gonna say I told you so, right?”

“You literally already did.”

“Okay, but I didn’t say it like this,” she teases, flopping down beside you. Her thigh brushes yours under the blanket. “I just… don’t understand how a man could be that proud and that uncoordinated at the same time. Like pick a struggle.”

You groan again, but this time she pulls you in close, arm around your shoulder, chin nudging your temple.

“I mean… we could always make him a video.”

You freeze. “…what?”

“A tutorial,” Paige says casually, like she’s suggesting a YouTube skincare haul. “You lay back, I show him what you like, and then he doesn’t have to embarrass himself again. You win, he learns, everybody’s happy.”

You turn to stare at her. Her face is neutral. Too neutral.

“You’ve never touched me like that.”

She shrugs. “Don’t need to.”

Your mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”

Her smirk creeps in, slow and dangerous. “You forget who taught you how to kiss? Who talked you through your first orgasm over FaceTime? Baby, I know you better than you know you.”

Your legs clench on instinct. Paige doesn’t miss it. She leans in, voice low.

“He was licking you like an ice cream cone, huh? That slow, nervous shit like he’s scared of it.”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. She nods knowingly. “You like pressure. Tongue flat. You need rhythm, not flicks. And you hate when people ignore your clit to ‘explore.’ You want eye contact. Hair pulled. You want someone who’s not afraid to hold you open and make a mess.”

You swallow hard. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Paige just grins. “Because I know you.”

Later That Week

You hear from someone else first. Your boyfriend’s in the locker room talking big loud and confident, claiming he had you “screaming.” Word gets back to Paige in minutes.

She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t get loud. She just walks up to him after your game, chewing gum real slow. One hand in her pocket, chin tilted up.

“She told me what happened,” she says, eyes locked on him. “And whatever you think you did? You didn’t.”

He stammers. “You….you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t have to be,” she says, smirking. “She calls me after. Every time. Gives me play-by-plays. Like a coach.” His face goes pale.

“I could show you,” Paige offers, voice like syrup. “It’s easier than you think.”

She pats him on the chest, leans in, and whispers, “But you’ll never do it like me.”

That Night

You let him explain. You give him grace. You pretend like your best friend didn’t verbally gut him in public. But you’re lying in bed with your phone when Paige texts you:

He still doesn’t get it. I could teach him.

Or you could just let me show you.

It’s what you’ve always wanted, anyway.

You stare at the screen for a minute. Then you type.

Come over.

10:07 p.m.

Your apartment smells like vanilla. You’ve been pacing since she sent that text: “be there in 10.”

When you open the door, Paige is already smirking. Not the usual lazy, cocky thing she throws around when she’s being cute. This one’s different. Meaner. Hungrier. She’s in a black tee, hair in a bun, lips glossed. And when she steps in, she doesn’t hug you. Doesn’t say hi.

Just closes the door with her foot, eyes running over your body.

“So.” Her voice is low. Controlled. “You ready for your lesson?”

You scoff, turning to walk toward the couch, trying to play it off—trying.

“Thought it was a lesson for him.”

She follows close behind, and you feel her hands brush your waist as she leans in.

“Nah,” she whispers, her breath warm on your neck. “I lied.”

You freeze. Paige’s fingers slip under your shirt like she’s done it a thousand times. “This one’s for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re on your back, legs spread, shirt somewhere behind the couch. You expected teasing. A slow buildup. Maybe even some nerves.

But no. Paige is starving.

She kisses down your chest like she knows what she’s doing because she does. Licks that little spot under your left breast that always makes you gasp. She grins when you do, like she’s ticking boxes on a list she made years ago.

“You’re wet already,” she hums, dragging two fingers down the center of your panties. “You been thinking about this, huh?”

You don’t answer. She laughs, mean and quiet. “Yeah. Thought so.”

Then she’s pulling them off slow enough to watch your face, fast enough to make you squirm.

When she goes down, it’s with purpose. Paige spreads you open with both thumbs like she’s reading a map, tongue already pressed flat and heavy against your clit before you can even brace for it. No warmup. No warming you up. Just hot, slick, pressure. The kind your boyfriend never understood.

“Right here?” she murmurs, tongue circling slow, two fingers keeping you wide. “Yeah… you like that. I know.”

You whimper. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just shifts slightly and locks her arms under your thighs like she’s settling in.

Paige eats you like she’s proving a point groaning into it, tongue dragging, lips wet and greedy. When you try to close your legs, she pushes them back open, firm and calm.

“Nuh uh,” she says, voice muffled. “Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

And fuck she’s good.

She alternates between fast and slow, teasing and deep, like she’s learning and testing and knowing all at once. And you can’t even think straight. You’re gripping her hair. Breathing too fast. Already damn near there. Then she lifts her head.

“You wanna know what he was doing wrong?”

You groan. “Paige, I—”

She slides two fingers in like it’s nothing. Like she knew you’d be dripping enough.

“Everything.”

Her fingers curl just right, her palm hitting your clit with every thrust. She’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, lip caught in her teeth like she’s studying for a final exam.

You cry out, arching up, chasing that pressure. She leans in close, licking her lips.

“You close already? Damn. Thought you were tougher than that.”

You slap her shoulder weakly. “Fuck you….”

“You’re trying baby.” She grins and twists her wrist. “But your pussy says different.”

You’re about to break literally shaking when she stops. You almost scream. Then she tilts her head.

“Can I record?”

You blink. “What?”

She’s dead serious. “Just for me. Won’t show nobody. I just want to watch you fall apart on my fingers again.” You whimper, pulling her back down by the back of her neck.

“Girl, yeah, whatever just don’t stop.” Her smirk grows wide and feral.

She pulls her phone out with her clean hand, props it low beside your thigh, and goes back in like she’s got something to prove to the camera now too. Fingers deeper. Tongue back on your clit.

This time she moans into you low and guttural. You lose it. Your hips stutter, thighs clench around her head, and you’re crying out her name like it’s always been her. Because it has.

You ride it out on her mouth, fingers buried in her hair, body twitching. She doesn’t stop until you pull her away, gasping. Even then she licks her lips, leans back on her knees, and watches you try to breathe again.

“Lesson one…” she says, still panting slightly. “Let somebody who actually gives a fuck touch you.”

You blink up at her, dazed.

“Lesson Two.”

Your breathing’s just starting to even out when Paige stands. Pulls you gently by the wrist.

“C’mon,” she says, like this is part of the curriculum. Like this is normal. “We’re not done.”

You follow, legs unsteady, mind still gooey from the first round. She’s shirtless now, hair wild, and walking you across the room toward your vanity.

The second you realize what she’s doing, your stomach flips.

“Paige—”

“Shh.” She stops you right in front of the mirror, hands skimming your waist from behind. “You look so fucking good like this.”

You do. Flushed skin, kiss-bruised lips, thighs still trembling. You look wrecked. Paige stands behind you, taller, toned, lips glistening with your slick. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection—hungry.

“Bend over.” You hesitate. Only a second.

She grips your hips and bends you herself, slowly. Hands splayed against the edge of the vanity now, your ass pressed back into her.

“You ever even look at yourself when he touched you?”

You shake your head. She smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

Then her arms slide around your neck. Her chest flush to your back. One arm anchors you across your collarbone, the other slips straight between your thighs.

“You’re gonna watch me make you cum,” she says, low and serious, like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. “Eyes open, baby.”

Two fingers slide in without resistance. You gasp.

She’s deeper than before. Angled perfectly. Her pace is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every stroke like she’s dragging your soul out one inch at a time.

“Goddamn,” she murmurs into your ear, watching the way your mouth drops in the mirror. “You see how good you look? Look at how you open for me.”

You do. And it’s filthy.

The squelch of your pussy. The shine on her fingers. Your thighs tensing, face scrunched up as she fucks into you with that smug-ass expression, like she’s been waiting years for this moment and she has.

“You like that?” she whispers. “That pressure right here—” Curl. You cry out, hips jolting.

“Ohhh yeah. There she go.”

Her fingers are soaked now. She brings her thumb up to rub slow, tight circles on your clit while still fucking you deep. When you look away, overwhelmed.

“Uh uh.” She grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes up. “Keep watching. Watch what I do to you.”

She’s close now. Practically pressed against you. Her mouth brushes your ear with every breath.

“You think he could ever get you like this? Bent over, begging? Look at how needy you are, baby.”

You moan, body trembling. Your own reflection is ruining you Paige’s fingers moving like they’re guided by god, your face all fucked-out, her body wrapped around you like possession.

Then her pace shifts fast, steady, ruthless. You whine, trying to lift up from the vanity, but she holds you down with her forearm across your chest, lips grazing your jaw.

“Don’t run,” she growls. “This the part where you take it. And you do.

Legs shaking. Mouth open. Crying out her name. She doesn’t let up, doesn’t flinch, just keeps fucking into you like she already knows how many strokes it takes to break you.

You cum hard, body convulsing, knees buckling. She holds you through it, still pumping gently, still whispering in your ear.

“Good girl… There you go. Just like that. Look at you, baby.”

When your body finally gives out, she lifts you like nothing and sets you on the vanity stool. Crouches in front of you. Smiling.

You’re barely breathing when she lifts you onto the vanity stool. Thighs trembling, mouth slick with your own whimpers. She’s still crouched in front of you, chin glistening, fingers dripping, eyes dangerous.

“Too much?” she asks, smiling. You nod.

She tilts her head. “That’s cute. You think I care.”

Then she kisses you. Slow and deep like she’s trying to taste your orgasm still lingering on her lips. Her hands slide up your thighs, and you think she’s just holding you close.

You’re wrong. Because suddenly those fingers slip right back in. Two, maybe three. No warm-up this time. Just a slick, greedy slide that makes your hips jerk and your lips fall open mid-kiss.

“F-fuck, Paige—”

Her grin widens. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then down your jaw. She’s still on her knees, looking up at you with that cocky, knowing expression.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” she whispers. “Every time you came crying about how he didn’t know what he was doing… I’d go home and cum to the thought of this.”

You can barely hold eye contact, your hands gripping her shoulders like lifelines.

“Look at you,” she coos. “Still trying to act like you’re not mine now.”

Then your phone starts buzzing on the vanity. It’s him. You don’t even move, but Paige does. Calm as ever. Fingers still pumping slow and deep, she leans up and answers.

“Hello?”

Your eyes go wide. “Paige—”

She presses her palm to your clit, quieting you instantly with a firm stroke.

“Yeah,” she says into the phone, tone friendly. “She’s a little busy right now.” A pause. You can hear his voice confused, unsure. Asking what’s going on.

Paige looks you dead in the eye and curls her fingers hard. Your head snaps back, mouth open in a silent scream.

She covers the mic and mouths, “Don’t hold back.”

Then back into the phone, “Oh, that noise? That’s her.”

She flicks your clit again, harder this time, until your hips buck. “Yeah,” she breathes, grinning. “I’m showing her how to cum for real. Something you clearly never learned.”

You can hear him trying to talk over her, voice panicked and rising, but Paige is already back on you her tongue on your neck, her hand fucking up into you harder now, faster, trying to rip the sound out of you.

“You wanna say hi?” she teases, moving the phone toward your mouth. “C’mon. Tell him who’s got you like this.”

You moan—high, wrecked, involuntary. She laughs, actually laughs, and talks right over you.

“She’ll call you back when she’s done dripping all over my fucking hand.”

She ends the call. And doubles down. Literally.

Her pace turns filthy, fast, wet, relentless. Her palm slaps against you with every thrust, and her mouth is back on yours, stealing breath and sanity.

You scream into her kiss, clutching her hoodie, cumming harder than before. Paige just keeps going until your thighs are shaking around her wrist.

When you finally collapse into her chest, panting, she strokes your sides like she just gave you a massage.

“Lesson three,” she whispers. “Delete his fucking number.” You nod, boneless. Breathless. Ruined. She grins, kisses your cheek, and says “Now turn around. I’m not done grading you.”

Your body is limp when she finally pulls her fingers out, glistening and smug like she just conquered something and she did.

You’re draped across her, shaking, gasping into her neck, and still… still needing more.

“Paige…” Your voice is barely there. “Please…”

She doesn’t speak right away just runs her hand down your side, trailing between your legs like she’s memorizing every tremble.

Then, gently, she cups your face and makes you look at her.

“You want more?” You nod quickly, almost frantically. She leans in, lips brushing yours like a secret.

“Then you’re gonna let me show you everything.”

You’re not sure when or how you got to the bed. All you know is her voice and her hands guided you. Now you’re spread out again, thighs aching, breath shaky, as she kneels between your legs like she belongs there.

Paige looks too calm like she’s in her element, dark eyes flicking from your face to the drawer next to the bed.

“You still got that purple one?” she asks. You blink.

“Your vibe,” she clarifies, smirking. “You think I didn’t know? Girl, your man couldn’t make you cum. Of course you got backup.”

Heat flares in your chest, between your legs. You nod, wordless.

She reaches over, opens the drawer without asking, and pulls it out like she’s done it before. Her brows lift slightly. “This the one?”

You cover your face for a second, flustered, but nod again. She grins, climbs back between your thighs, and kisses the inside of your knee before switching the toy on. A soft hum. Then louder.

“Sit up,” she says. “I want you to watch.”

You prop up on your elbows just as she presses the vibrator to your clit. Your head drops back with a gasp.

“Nuh uh,” Paige says, not even looking up. “Eyes on me. Watch what I do to you.”

The first pass is light just enough to tease, to make your thighs twitch. But when she adds pressure.

“Fuck,” you breathe, one leg kicking slightly. You reach down and grab behind your own thigh, holding it open.

That makes her smile.

“Yeah,” she says softly.

Her eyes stay glued to your pussy the whole time—studying it. Worshipping it. She alternates pressure and rhythm like she’s done this before, like she’s studied you before. And every time your hips jerk or your thighs twitch, she notices.

“Oh, you like that speed?” You nod quickly.

“And this angle, huh?” You moan.

She licks her lips. “Let’s try something.”

And then she leans down. Flicks her tongue around the toy, just teasing the slick edges of your clit while the vibe presses steady into the center.

You nearly scream. Your leg shakes so hard you drop it. She grabs it and throws it over her shoulder with ease.

“Keep still,” she says, licking her lips again.

She eats your pussy around the vibrator. Her mouth catching the mess it makes. Her tongue flat. Her moans soft and greedy like she loves this.

You can’t breathe. Your eyes roll back. You claw the sheets.

“Paige—Paige I—”

“I know,” she purrs, pulling back just long enough to look you in the eye. “Let it happen.”

She pushes the toy slightly lower while her tongue flicks your clit. You break.

Your hips lift. Your moan turns high and choked. Your whole body snaps forward like it’s too much too much pressure, too much sensation, too much her.

And then You squirt. A lot. It hits her hand, her arm, the sheets. She doesn’t care. Just watches it happen like she’s proud of you. Mesmerized. Smiling.

“There she go,” she murmurs, rubbing slow circles again while your thighs twitch. “Been waiting to see that.”

You’re shaking. Crying maybe. Still gasping for air. But she’s not done. She leans back in mouth on your soaked clit, tongue lapping slow and deep and loving every drop.

She finally lets go of the toy, tosses it to the side like it served its purpose. Now it’s just her mouth. She groans into you, eyes fluttering closed, mouth full of you messy and loud and nasty.

You don’t even know if you cum in her mouth or just keep riding the edge, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not coming up for air. She’s been waiting for this. She’s going to take her time.

You’re still trembling when she finally pulls away. Mouth wet. Fingers drenched. Eyes glowing like she just won a championship.

She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another to your hipbone before crawling up your body, light on her feet, her hoodie half-off and damp at the hem from you.

You feel her hand press gently to your cheek.

“You alive?”

You nod, barely. She chuckles, like you just passed some impossible test. “Good girl.”

Then effortlessly, she lifts you. Carries you to the pillows and lays you on your side like you’re made of glass.

She disappears briefly, and you hear the sink running. A few seconds later, a warm towel presses between your legs, slow and careful, like she knows you’re sensitive now. She cleans you without saying a word no teasing, no smirks just small circles, gentle hands, reverent touch.

When she’s done, she grabs your water bottle off the nightstand and taps it against your lips.

“Drink,” she murmurs, arm sliding under your shoulders to lift you. “You gon’ need it.”

You sip slow, and when she’s satisfied, she eases you down again—this time against her. Hoodie still on. Legs tangled with yours. Your head resting on her chest.

The silence settles in warm.

Her fingers trace slow lines on your back, and her breathing’s steady almost like she didn’t just put you through five orgasms and a clean-up that looked like a post-game locker room mop-up.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Her phone lights up on the nightstand. You both glance at it. It’s him. Name lit up bold. Notifications stacked like a man who knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what.

She reaches for the phone, unlocks it with her thumb, and stares for a second, then hits the little microphone icon and starts a voice note.

“Yo,” she says, calm as ever, voice low and a little raspy from moaning your name all night. “My bad. She’s… out.”

She pans the phone over your sleeping form, gets just enough of your bare shoulder and the edge of her hoodie wrapped around you. Then taps send.

Sets the phone back down. Pulls you in tighter.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers against your hair. “He won’t call again.” You hum, half-asleep already.

She smiles. In the dark, with you curled into her chest, wrecked and warm, she kisses your forehead and says “Told you I’d teach you.”

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai @mrsarnold @prettyyyinblack

[lostcausezealot]

The Shipping Allegations

DESCRIPTION: In which fans are avid fans of RumiY/n and three months since their hiatus, HUNTR/X’s comeback and your new solo album didn’t help.

Romantic, Read with slight caution (It tackles the part with Celine and Rumi so)

Rumi x Celine’s daughter!Reader 

There are wave to earth lyrics

Celine’s A grade parenting

Not proof read

Helloooo! This is actually my very first fic and I'm very rusty. I hope you enjoy the fic :))

Three months later when HUNTR/X announced their hiatus, released a series of photos for their comeback

It was posted all over social media photo of you four, a solo pic of each of the members. All seems fine. 

Until a certain photo of you and Rumi.

Shipping allegations have always been in every fandom. There was nothing new to that, but they couldn’t help but take notice how the photo of you both looks like something too romantic to be true.

From the photoshoot, it was a photo of your arms on your knees, ducking your head while admiring the leader with such adoring eyes. While Rumi stared back at you, laughing.

Fans always knew that you two were close since day one. Before the group even came to be.

Fans noticed the rift between you and your mother three months ago. Right just after defeating Gwi-Ma.

And they definitely noticed how defensive you grew when people continuously target Rumi’s patterns.

“I don’t get it, honestly,” You spoke in an interview. “It’s Rumi’s choice to let her patterns show. It’s her own body, why do people we barely know get to decide what she wants?”

The fans went crazy about it.

It was normal for Mira and Zoey to speak out in defense of their leader, but you? You were the quiet and gentle one out of the four.

Daily HUNTR/X @dailyhuntrix

Aren’t we going to question how y/n, the one who usually goes with the flow of HUNTR/X defended Rumi LIVE ON INTERVIEW?!?!?!?!?

TILL IS SEEING HUNTR/X IN # DAYS @zomira

THE RUy/n IS STRONG TODAY GUYS

Zo | spoilers @Mirawife

What a fucking day this has been

It truly didn’t help that Mira and Zoey decided to join in.

MIRA @MiraHUNTRX

We just saw that right @Zoey    

| ZOE @ZoeyHUNTRX 

  Oh, we definitely did HELLO??

|| RUMI @RumiHUNTRX 

   What are you guys talking about…?

 ||| ZOE @ZoeyHUNTRX

       IT’S NOTHING ^ ^

It continued with videos of you and Rumi. 

“y/n and Rumi being hopelessly in love with each other for 5 minutes.”

That was the title of the video, and exploded.

The video had more views than their debut MV. Much to Bobby’s panic and Mira and Zoey’s delight.

Compiled from livestreams, backstage footage, fancams, interviews, and even stolen glances during concerts. 

The fandom had receipts, and they damn brought them.

Clip 1:

It was one of their scheduled livestreams, and Zoey and Mira were the ones in charge of it.

“Which one’s better, Romance or Abby?” Mira wanted to snarl with the question.

“Come on,” Zoey cheerfully grinned, “It’s just a question.”

“A question that can make Twitter explode,” Mira replied. “Both are unbearable.”

Right after she answered the question, the elevator opened, and lo and behold, you and Rumi entered the penthouse laughing at whatever the leader said.

Oh, and don’t forget the fact that they were holding hands.

The two looked over the two members with the livestream still on and immediately let go of each other.

“Oh! Mira, Zoey!” Rumi nervously laughed, “I didn’t know you were live!”

You jabbed her gut in response.

Clip 2:

It was a short clip of you and Rumi entering a boba shop. Clearly, paparazzi still have no sense of personal space, as the video kept going.

Just as Rumi is about to get her wallet, you hand your card to the cashier and pay for your order.

“Hey! I was supposed to pay!” Rumi exclaimed, the wallet still in hand.

“I was the one who asked you out,” You replied, grabbing the two drinks. “It makes sense that I pay, right?”

Rumi stayed silent before smiling, “Fine, but next time I’m the one paying.”

“Deal.”

Clip 3:

It was another livestream, and you and Zoey were the ones this time. 

The live was practically taken over with Zoey talking the most while you happily listened. 

Until a question appeared in the comments.

“Where did you get the ring in your necklace, y/n?” Zoey read out the comment.

“Hm? Oh!” You grabbed the ring while smiling, “A friend gave it to me.”

Zoey stared at you with a look while you confusedly stared back at her.

“What?”

“I actually don’t know where that necklace is from.” 

“Well, there’s a reason why you don’t.” 

The next day, fans found an old photo of Rumi wearing the same necklace. It wasn’t the same necklace.

And the fans knew it was a matching ring.

Clip 4:

It was a big night. HUNTR/X had just won Song of the Year at a major ceremony. Screams echoed across the stadium.

All four of you went up to accept the award. Zoey delivered the thank you speech, and Mira stood beside her.

You and Rumi were slightly behind them. Hidden from the camera angle.

Until one fan caught it on a side-angle shot.

You leaned close. Whispered something.

Rumi covered your mouth, laughing.

And then almost imperceptibly. You nodded.

Fans would later subtitle the moment with guesses:

"I told you we’d make it."

"Still think I don’t deserve you?"

"I always think we deserve each other."

Nobody ever got the real words. And you two never confirmed it.

Clip 5:

None of the clip was supposed to be leaked, really. There was a signed NDA. 

But of course, there will always be those types of people.

It was a celebration by the company in celebration of HUNTR/X's comeback. 

It was a blurry video of you and Rumi talking to each other, looking like in their own little bubble. 

It may be a blurry video, but the sight of Rumi taking your hand to kiss it was clear as day.

And shockingly, two of the members don’t know anything about the clip.

And then came your solo album. Fans were surprised.

They weren’t surprised by the fact that it was full of love songs. It was the fact that it didn’t sound like HUNTR/X at all.

It didn’t sound like Pop. It definitely didn’t sound like Kpop. It sounded like Indie Rock.

“It was kind of just a little side project.” You smiled. “A friend helped me with the lyrics.”

You are my sea, you are my sunshine

The star, the moon

Since when did a friend help with lyrics like that? 

And it kept going too.

Daisy, every time I see you, 

My day is getting coloured

If I could be by your side

I’ll give you all my life, my seasons

When you spoke to me

The words are like a flowing star

Suddenly, a TikTok from HUNTR/X with you 

“There’s a rumor that your solo album was inspired by someone special. Want to tell us who?” You read it out loud while reading the comment.

“I think anyone who listens already knows,” Your forehead was only shown in the video,o but fans could hear Mira and Zoey asking, well, practically screaming on who it's about.

“When are we going to tell them?” You suddenly asked while playing with Rumi’s hair.

“They know,” Rumi replied back eyes still closed. “They’re just waiting for us to tell them.”

“I mean the fans,” You softly smiled.

“They’re just waiting for us to tell them,” Rumi repeated the same words before laughing, “I mean, have you seen the theories on Twitter?”

“I saw one where it said we switch one of our shoes so that we can be matching,” Rumi scoffed in response before laughing.

She finally opened her eyes, staring right back at you, her eyes always shine so bright you thought.

The breaking point was a leak of a series of photos taken by a fan.

It was raining heavily, and the streets were empty. Except with you and Rumi.

From the photos, the two of you look like you were arguing. It looked like a very bad argument. 

Until the last photo was you softly holding her cheeks, Rumi’s hand holding your chin, and kissing you without a care in the world.

Fans went wild. No, fans went crazy. They went rabid at the photo, people were talking about it left and right.

God bless your PR Team because the moment the photo was leaked, they went to work.

The photo wasn’t even going to be leaked. The photo was leaked because someone hacked into the fan’s iCloud.

“Don’t you get it?!” Rumi yelled. The rain poured harder, and she clutched her arm. “This is what I am!”

“I know!” You yelled while softly placing your hand on her arm. “I know! And who cares?!”

This all started because Celine went to the penthouse unannounced. Looking for Rumi. In turn, it sent Rumi into a spiral the moment Celine finally left. 

She suddenly ran from the group, and you chased after her.

“Celine should’ve done what I asked her to!” Rumi’s eyes were wide as if she were being hunted down. 

You knew what she was trying to say. You saw it happen. You saw her kneeling, holding out the sword, while you seemed so far away, trying to run and get the sword away.

“Rumi-!” You called her out before getting cut off.

“I could hurt you!” Rumi yelled back, one of her eyes turned yellow, her patterns glowed purple in discomfort, “Why do you still love me when I’m like this?!”

How Ironic when one month ago, she asked your mother the opposite.

You softly grabbed the hand that was nitpicking her arm before kissing it, “Because you’re you…”

“Even with the patterns…” You couldn’t tell if the water from your cheeks was from the “You look beautiful…”

“You are beautiful…”

That seemed to finally get Rumi into her senses as she slowly started to calm down as you continued.

“You don’t need to hide it…” Both of your hands grabbed her cheeks, “You aren’t a monster. You aren’t a mistake.”

You could faintly see Rumi’s tears flowing down as you softly smiled.

“You’re Rumi.” You concluded, letting out a breath, “You’re the girl I fell in love with all those years ago.”

Rumi looked at you with wide eyes while you looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

What can she do other than kiss the lips that she so adored.

“I know that we’re going to have arguments,” You sneezed into the tissue, “But can we at least have it indoors?”

After the incident, the next day, it left sick. Fortunately, thanks to Rumi being half-demon, she didn’t get sick at all.

“Sorry…” Rumi murmured while placing the egg soup beside the bed, “At least, this is my way of making up to you.”

You hummed in response, “I saw the photos.”

Rumi stopped her movements before continuing, “Are you mad?”

“No,” Rumi looked over to see you smiling, “I’m glad people know now, and besides…”

You opened your phone to show your wallpaper with a teasing smile on your face.

“It’s a good wallpaper.”

A week later, there was a joint post from both of your accounts. It was both of you wearing the same ring on both of your hands, a smile on both of your faces with a captioned post.

the friend who gave me my in question isn’t just a friend, btw

P.S. no it's not a wedding ring

[hanyaksha]

Idol!Gojo x fangirl!reader part three ! i made sure this one's long for everyone to enjoy ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

Directory: part one I two

being an idol is exhausting. the nonstop recordings, promotional videos and even events. but that didn't stop Gojo from spoiling u rotten. always coming back home to you with presents, he just loves dressing u up. loves giving u jewelry, making sure he has a piece of him that u carry around. ure not materialistic, but seeing him overjoyed, snapping pics of u in every angle whenever u wear the stuff he buys you was enough to make u happy. u still havent fully forgiven him for making the public know abt whatever it was that was going on between the two of u. for days uve just been holed up in his penthouse, avoiding the paparazzis that was hounding his building literally day and night just to try and get a glimpse of u. even ur socials were deactivated and ur phone on silent so the haters dont find a way to get to you. "long day today?" he hummed in response as he joined u under the covers of his kingsized bed, the moonlight the only thing illuminating through the glass windows. he looked unusually tired today. u woke up that day with him already gone for a photoshoot, it was already close to 12am when he came home. u feel ur chest swell when u realized how exhausted he must be. "they kept asking me about u..." he mumbled, his face nuzzling on the fabric of your chest as he hugged you close. caressing his head u curiously asked, "who?" he scoffs. "everyone. the boys, even suguru. and now choso." u try ur best to hold back a laugh. u can hear the pout in his tone. "gojo..." he hugs u tighter, making u whine at the slight pain. u sigh. "satoru," and only then he loosens his grip. u lightly roll ur eyes; he still throws a fit every time u call him gojo. "...you did just expose me for everyone to see though?" he groaned into ur chest like a man haunted by his own actions. "i know," he grumbled, voice muffled against ur skin. "but i couldn't help it. the thought of him finding about u without me in the picture fucking pissed me off." you laugh softly, fingers threading through the snowy mess of his hair. "you're dramatic."

"i'm in love," he corrected, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze. his eyes, dimmed from fatigue still held the same softness of his blue eyes. "that makes me a little insane, doesn't it?"

you blinked, the heat rising to your face like wildfire. his voice was rough with exhaustion but it was the same type of husky tone that made u melt all over again. you felt his fingers graze the hem of your nightgown, almost absentmindedly tracing the fabric. he let out a heavier sigh. "you're so warm," he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone, pressing soft butterfly kisses so slow it made ur heart jump in anticipation for more. "i missed this" u feel him exhale, his hot breath sending a soft shiver down ur spine.

"satoru..." his breath hitched. he loves being needed. he loves when ur body so pliantly shows how much it yearns his touch. "let me take care of you," he said, his lips moving up to brush against your jaw. "i need to know that you're mine. that ure staying in the morning. let me hold u, taste you, worship u...." fuck no matter how complicated the situation was - it's hard not to admit that u dont mind staying for good. and it was driving u equally insane to know that he wants u as much as u wanted him too. he leaned in, capturing ur lips in a searing kiss, almost like he was pleading for u to stay. his hands slid into ur hair, lightly gripping on it to tilt your head back so he can deepen the kiss. his tongue found its way in, so eagerly exploring every inch it could reach. "let me make u feel good, until i chase away all thoughts of everything and everyone except us." his voice was raw, blue round eyes in a promise that he meant every word with hunger and desperation. u were weak for him, already finding urself sitting up, ur back against his headboard, legs spreading to show him the damp patch that was already forming in the darkening fabric between ur legs. a possessive smirk painted across his face at the sight. "good girl," he purred, slowly leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the damp patch, breathing in ur scent. ur legs a little limp when the heat of ur core seeped through the thin material, scorching his lips. he could feel u trembling beneath him and it was taking everything in his self control not to devour u right then and there.

his hands slid up ur thighs, pushing ur dress up out of the way as he settled between them. he looked up at u as he did, clearly studying ur face for every reaction. "im going to taste every inch of you tonight," he trailed off, his hands gripping tighter on your plush thighs "until ure writhing and begging for more." u exhaled, his name was most likely the only thing constantly leaving ur lips tonight.

he pressed another kiss on ur clothed sex, then another, until the fabric was thoroughly soaked through. u can barely keep ur eyes open but he made sure u saw his wicked grin before he peeled your panties off, tossing it carelessly to the side. leaving u so bare before him, all glistening and swollen just for him.

"keep ur hands on the headboard," he ordered, voice rough with desire. without a second thought u submissively complied, hands fumbling to meekly hold onto the headboard behind u. he clicked his tongue in satisfaction. "such a good girl for me..." and with that - he dove in, sealing his lips on ur clit and sucking hard as he thrusts two fingers inside, feeling ur walls fluttering and clenching around the intrusion. he pumped them in and out, curling them just right, as he licked and sucked at ur sensitive bud. ure not sure why he was so possessive tonight. so determined to take u, claim u - it was almost like he worships u. to be worshipped by gojo satoru? fuck that felt good. so good that u couldn't keep ur hands on the headboard, the other one already finding its way to grip his hair as u squirmed in his touch, ur legs shaking from overstimulation. u want him, all of him. "toru... please - inside... no more. don't tease." u pleaded so desperately in between breaths. u were aching for more, so desperately in need with the way ur fingers tightened in his hair, in the way ur hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more of his touch. but instead of satisfying ur need, it only drove him to work twice as hard, driving u further wild with lust. he could taste ur arousal on his tongue, the heat radiating off ur needy cunt. after a full day of work - he's just so fucking hungry for u.

as much as he enjoyed reducing u to a quivering, begging hot mess, he was aching to be buried deep inside u as much as u needed him there. with a final, hard suck to ur clit, he proudly pulled back, admiring the sight of ur flushed and panting, hair disheveled from his fingers and eyes glazed just begging to be fucked. "gonna fuck u just the way u like it, sweetheart" he murmured, rising up to ur body, making sure he pauses to lave his tongue over the stiff peaks of ur nipples, his teeth lightly grazing it. shit this man is dangerously talented with that tongue it was insane how much it made u feel hot all over and it wasn't even his dick yet. he wanted to mark every inch of ur skin, so fucking pretty all covered and littered with the evidence of his love for u.

he settled between ur trembling thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against ur soaked entrance. all puffed up and hot to welcome him in. so ready for him, and it took every ounce of his control not to slam forward and fill u to the brim. he admired u, taking his sweet time to lean down for a sloppy kiss as he slowly pushed forward. doesnt matter how often u had sex with this man, it always felt like the first time every time he inches that throbbing cock in. stretching u so deliciously around his thick length until he was fully sheathed. he paused there, forehead resting against urs, both ur chests heaving as u adjusted to the burning sensation. "fuck, baby, so perfect for me." he groaned before he started rolling his hips, grinding against ur greedy cunt, relishing at the feeling of ur walls fluttering around him. u whined, he hasn't even fully moved yet and there u were - legs quivering at the sheer size of him. he shushed u, peppering ur cheeks with kisses to soothe u, "sshh, i'll make sure u feel good, angel" he loves his pet names for u. u were everything he could imagine. u nodded, nails digging on his back when he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in.

"fuck!" u cursed because holy fuck u just cant get enough of this. he fucked u deep, driving a slow and steady rhythm, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. one hand gripping ur hip while the other slid between ur bodies to rub ur clit, like he knew exactly how to make ur eyes roll back from ecstasy. he could feel his own release building, intentionally ignoring it because he wanted to please u until u came first before him. only then would he let himself go. he gets so turned on when u cum. so fucking good to u that he would stop himself until u ride ur high first. he kissed u, lips so greedy as he swallowed ur cries of pleasure, pounding into u so mercilessly. he was so close, teetering on the edge of his bubbling desire. but he held back, painfully waiting for u, for ur velvet walls to clench around him, to milk his cock for all its worth. u had him wrapped around ur finger and u had no idea how much he yearns for u.

u screamed his name, nails raking his back as u started gushing, coating his cock in thick white slick. the overstimulation was insane - legs shaking u couldn't believe the puddle of mess u became when u felt him come undone. sheets in a damp mess, u had to beg for him to stop moving else u wud start crying. he let out a ragged moan. he could feel it, could feel the way ur gummy walls wet from his pistoning length. but as the initial shockwaves of his release began to ebb, he became aware of ur desperate pleas, ur tear-streaked eyes, and the way ur body trembled beneath him. he's sure u left a mark on his back, the slight sting now apparent. almost instantly, concern and protectiveness overrode his lust, his touch so gentle, slowing his thrusts to languid rolls to a full stop as he peppered ur face with soft kisses. "ssh, ssh, i've got u, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice low to try and soothe u. "you're okay, i have u." fuck and ur body just listens to him.

with great care, he eased u on the bed, rolling to the side to keep u from being crushed with his weight. he pulled u close to him, one arm wrapped around ur waist and the other cupping ur face, thumb brushing away the tears that managed to escape. "easy there, baby," he cooed, pressing kisses on ur damp cheeks and lips. "u did so well, took me so well like the perfect angel u are." this was so much more than a dream come true, never wanting this moment to end with him.

his hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of ur waist and hip, before coming to rest on ur thigh. he let his fingers dance across the sensitive skin, feeling u shudder as u bite ur lip to stiffle a whimper. the urge to flip u over and take u from behind, to watch ur ass jiggle with every brutal thrust was almost overwhelming. but he held back, because he could never do that to you knowing that u trusted him to take care of u. he would never forgive himself if he pushed u too far. a gentleman through and through - what more can u truly ask for other than for him to never leave u behind? to never get tired of u? ur heart swells and u could only hope that ur heart is safe after offering everything to him.

holy fuck this was long omygooddd hope u guys like it muwah (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) i'll probs proofread this later~

[tobesolnelyx]

Fratboy Shauna who is starts talking to reader and is genuinely concerned with readers protein intake 😭 and starts bringing her the most insane foods to eat because of it? Has a conversation with reader about how her eating simple carbs and her energy being low makes sense. Just the most insane nutrition nonsense 😭 fully tries to reinvent girl dinners to make them more balanced. Probably even convinced the other girls to help her sneak protein into your plate or whatever, for some reason i just think Shauna would be the one who’d be so intense about it and endearing maybe the more she goes out of her way the more she’s realizing she’s into reader

a/n: im sorry, but this made me giggle. I SEE THE VISION THO, so here it is

Shauna looked up from her phone just in time to see you sit down at the table. The spoonful of her protein oatmeal, stuffed with God knows what, froze midair. She frowned, watching as you heavily placed your bowl of cereal on the table beside her. She glanced around, as if to make sure everyone saw the crime against humanity you were committing, but Natalie was too busy devouring yesterday’s pizza. Jackie was sprawled out with her notes across from you, and Lottie was watching some dumb video on YouTube.

Shauna sighed in frustration.

“What are you doing?” she asked, grimacing slightly. No one even looked up. Only you frowned and responded with a snort.

“Eating breakfast,” you replied, not quite understanding what her problem was this time. You ate this almost every day like some kind of ritual before classes. You were probably in the frat house more than anyone else, steadily clearing out their fridge. No one can blame you though.

“You call that breakfast?” Shauna raised her eyebrows, nodding toward your bowl of cereal. Now Jackie looked up, scanning the scene in front of her, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth her attention.

“Shauna, I eat this almost every day, what’s your problem now…?” you began, sighing. Typical. Shauna finding problems where there aren’t any.

“Exactly,” she said, gesturing toward your bowl before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. “That’s the problem. That doesn’t even look like breakfast.”

Silence fell. Broken only by sounds from Lottie’s phone and the crinkle of the pizza box. You turned around as if to check whether this was some kind of joke.

Shauna was dead serious. Ugh.

“Nat is literally eating pizza,” you said in your defense. Nat finally looked up, still chewing a piece in her mouth. Shauna let out a frustrated growl, quickly swallowing another mouthful of oatmeal.

“But it’s Nat,” she gestured, as if that explained anything. Nat looked at her like Shauna just insulted her.

“What do you mean ‘but it’s Nat’?” she grumbled, clearly displeased. Lottie snorted under her breath. Shauna rolled her eyes and pointed at you, speaking as if to an idiot.

“It means you’re not her,” she clarified. Very thoroughly.

Nat blinked. Once. Then again.

“I know I’m not her,” she raised her hands in a defensive gesture, her voice an octave higher. “So what, not being her means I don’t deserve your dietary advice?” she scoffed. More teasing Shauna than anything.

“Nothing’s gonna help you anyway,” Shauna shot back immediately, tired of the exchange. “Anyway, what I mean is…”

“Och, come on,” Nat swallowed the last bit of her pizza and stepped closer with her face still stuffed, smacking her lips. She looked at your cereal bowl, inspecting it. “Looks like breakfast to me. Yeah, Lot?”

Lottie glanced at the now kind of soggy cereal. Compared it to Shauna’s oatmeal, as Shauna was now leaning over you in frustration.

“Well, I mean… it could be better. I guess,” she finally said, looking around the table. Jackie shot a glance that said she was trying to figure out why a cereal debate was unfolding in front of her.

“Exactly!” Shauna immediately perked up again. “You’re not eating the way you should be.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. Nat playfully poked your forehead. “Unlike you, I don’t go to the gym. I don’t have to eat… all that,” you muttered.

Shauna leaned in even closer. Her muscles showed through the tight, black T-shirt.

“The point is to eat healthy. More… protein, fiber, and shits. You always complain about being tired,” Shauna pressed again, now clearly deciding she was your personal dietitian. “It’s because you don’t eat right,” she muttered, frustrated.

“Since when do you care?” you sighed, starting to eat your cereal, but Shauna was already sliding her oatmeal bowl toward you.

“Since now,” she muttered like a sulky child.

“She’s got a point. Kind of,” Jackie admitted without even looking up.

“Seriously?” you groaned, looking around the group. Nat just shrugged and gave you a flick on the forehead before walking off. “Thanks, coach,” you murmured sarcastically and Lottie snorted.

Ochhh, imaginee. Shauna deciding, just because, that she was going to change your eating habits. She started packing you lunches for classes. High protein ones that looked way worse than they tasted. She got obsessed with making you protein shakes and prepping your dinners. And when one of the frats came home, the air would be filled with the smell of food though she usually only made portions for the two of you.

“Fucking asshole,” Lottie mumbled, smacking Shauna lightly on the back of the head. Shauna just adjusted the arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to her chest. Her eyes stayed glued to the laptop screen where the two of you were watching a movie.

“Are you full?” she asked, and when you nodded, a kiss landed on your forehead.

“Good.”

And if anyone asked her why she cared so much? Just because. Definitely not because she cared about you. Definitely not.

[macherouviere]

What We Don't Say About Ruin

I look like a horror movie that can’t even be sung. I’ve seen how heartbroken he is, and how everyone else is. God, I don’t even know how to describe the feeling I got right now. But I felt like my head was exploding. Even “devastating” doesn’t come close. I was actually hanging out with my friend, watching the match, and I thought having a lot of reconnecting, buffering, and laggy moments would be the hardest part I’d see tonight. Not until the video cleared. I had missed a moment. I screamed with joy, looking at him playing in the background and telling my friend how good he looked tonight. But then I saw him, just staying still near the goalpost. Not down, not out, but frozen. And the keeper was crying.

I asked what happened, why he was crying. My friend said, “That’s because he’s sad”. I didn’t think too much of it. I just said, “Oh, okay, cool? Why though?”. But then I saw it. The man that I love, just staying there. There were people in blue jackets around him; medics, I guessed, but I didn’t even know how to name them in the moment. Some of his teammates were close, and even a few players from the other team. And then the game stopped. Like, actually stopped. The match was paused. And panic crept in. I opened Twitter to find something, anything, to anchor the moment. I still joked around. I didn’t want to believe something was wrong.

But then my friend tagged me in a post. It showed the moment I missed. It was sickening. I watched the clip and everything in me just shut down. The sound stopped. My thoughts dissolved. I couldn’t even hear the room. The only thing left was whatever was going on in my head, it might’ve been ringing or some kind of alarm. It felt like a drum, low and steady and dreadful, vibrating from deep inside. Then my ears actually started to drum, as if my own body was trying to warn me about what my brain couldn’t yet process. I felt like my heart had moved up into my skull and was pounding inside my head, louder and louder.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t say anything except “fuck”, over and over again. Maybe I was angry. Maybe I was scared. I felt so close to throwing my phone. I ditched my laptop like I’d never use it again. I locked myself in my room, but I didn’t know what to do. Sleep wasn’t even a consideration. I didn’t know how to move forward. Everything had just collapsed. And all I wanted in that moment was to cry with him. If I could, I’d go to him and wrap my arms around him and walk with him through whatever hell this would become. Because I know I could make it if it was for him.

But I don’t know how he’s feeling right now. I don’t even want to try guessing. And I especially don’t want to hear someone say, “It’s going to be okay”, because it won’t. Not yet. Not tonight. Not in a way that makes sense. There’s no word to fit this moment. Even “devastating” feels hollow. I just want to hold him. I want to cry with him, over everything; his pain, his fear, my heartbreak, our helplessness. Everything feels upside down, like my world’s been spun onto the tip of a needle and left to tremble.

I can’t scream for help. No one can help me. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I thought about deleting social media altogether. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this. But I know what I saw, that shockwave, the moment he realized what was happening. He knew. I could see it in his face: the confusion, the pain, and that creeping realization that something might be lost forever. And I, God, I don’t know who I am anymore after seeing that.

It felt like a crisis. A real one. Like if I didn’t ground myself, I might disappear. I even thought that doing something bad would make more sense than this moment. My world fell apart the moment he went down. And so did his. I knew it. And he knew it too. Because it’s not just a game. This is his everything. His joy. His meaning. His world.

I kept questioning everything after that. About him. About life. About myself. I kept thinking about how fragile everything is. And then I thought about how one of my lights; one of the few things that makes life feel bright, is flickering. I remembered how I once joked that “almost is never enough”, but now I don’t even find it funny. I don’t think I find anything fun anymore. The light’s gone. The fun’s gone. It’s all gone.

It didn’t just look painful. It felt like something was taken away. Like a whole future cracked before our eyes. Like time snapped. My head is still buzzing from the shock. I knew it when I saw it. Something shifted, and I knew the version of him I knew might not return. I can’t even think about his career or when he’ll return. I don’t care. I just want him whole. I want him safe. I want to know that his spirit, his smile, his softness… Will survive this.

But the fear is real. I knew it the moment it started to creep in. I knew he might not be the same. I knew he might stop. I knew he might never dance the same way again. And it’s terrifying. Can he ever smile again, truly? Will he be okay? Will he still be… Him?

I’m grieving. I know that now. Everything around me is blurry. God knows I’m still sitting on the edge of something I don’t have words for. Not despair, not heartbreak, just, grey. A silent, shapeless grey that smothers me. And not even a horror movie could explain what I feel. I just want to mourn.

And this grief, it caught in my throat. Not like sobs. Not like tears. Like a scream that didn’t have the courage to be loud. Like something stuck there, pressing down on my chest, twisting up my ribs. At some point, I didn’t want to cry. I wanted to throw up. Because maybe that would finally let the feeling out. They say it’s not numbness, but that this kind of sadness doesn’t follow rules. It knots itself inside you. It tangles with your breath and your heartbeat and your hope.

I kept asking myself, “Why am I this upset? Why does this hit so hard?”. But I didn’t want the answer. I didn’t want to reason with it. I just wanted to be in it. I sat still. I drooped low, and even the ground didn’t want me. My jaw locked. My body stayed curled, like it wanted to disappear. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to be perceived. I wanted the world to go quiet and stay there.

They say caring is a beautiful thing. I don’t know if I believe that. Because this doesn’t feel beautiful. It feels like being torn open by something you can’t fight. It feels ugly and relentless. It feels like love in its most painful, consuming shape. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to care this much. I don’t want to live in this.

I didn’t sob. I didn’t break down. But my grief showed up anyway, in the silence. In the tension. In the way my throat felt like it was holding back a hundred words that didn’t exist yet. My body held onto everything it didn’t know how to express: the fear, the sorrow, the helplessness, and the hope I’m still terrified to lose. It’s like crying without sound. Mourning without movement.

Now, the tears come easily. They roll without warning. I’m not crying loudly, I’m just, unraveling. Quietly. And every time I think about it again, the frustration comes back. It’s fucked up. And I don’t even know who to blame. But I want to blame someone. Anyone. Because someone should have kept him safe. Someone should have stopped it.

And still, all I want to do is cry with him. In 5th of July, the horror movie that won’t be able to light on, in my theater.

Landscape of Roman Ruins (François de Nomé, 1593 - 1644)

[minyoongiss]

ONLY MINE | taehyung kim

you shouldn't have tried to make him jealous. or maybe you did the right thing.

pairing: idol!taehyung x you

wc: 1.3k

warnings: 18+, pure filth.

authors note: first post ever and it’s smut. didn’t proofread it

“will you ever try to make me jealous again?” taehyung whispered in your ears as he thrusted in you from behind. hard and fast. your hands were pressed against the cold window of the hotel. the coldness cooling down your hot body. your check was pressed against the cold surface of the window, you cold see a fogy layer creating on it because of your hectic breathing.

you couldn’t answer, all your thoughts all possible sentences you could form were gone the moment he entered your needing wet hole. and god did you love it.

the room smelled of sex, the fog clouding it as your sounds echoed off the walls, you didn't even try to hide your voices anymore at this point. not caring if anyone could here you. not caring if they heard how good taehyung was fucking you.

he pressed your front firmly and insistently against the cold glass, but not too hard. it was just enough pressure, as if he knew you liked it. even after all these months. he always knew what you liked. how you liked it. his arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, grounding you and pulling you against him until you had barely enough room to think—let alone move. each time, he pushed in and out of you. every time, your body tilted forward completely because you could no longer hold yourself, he pulled you back against him. not caring about all the cries and whimpers coming out of your mouth. “i’m sorry,” you subbed. but were you really sorry?

the way he pressed his hand on your lower abdomen whenever he rammed his cock into your cervix with full force made you feel it more intensely. "can you feel it? how deep i’m inside you?" as if trying to prove something, he went deeper than you thought was ever possible. his thrust brutal and deep, his cock dragging against your walls like he was trying to stamp himself in your body. as if he wanted to make sure that you would even feel him days after this. no, so that you could never forget him.

"do you really think that jimin could ever fuck you the way i do? do you think he could even make you come?" his hand, which had been pressed against your abdomen, found its way to your clit. two fingers rubbing it in a sloppy way.

you moaned as you buried your head into the pit of his shoulder. “tae-taehyung don't stop,” you screamed, holding on to the window with your arms, to his biceps, which had grown twice as much since he returned from the military, to whatever you could hold yourself onto. you could still remember exactly when he'd sent you a topless picture without any context. a shirtless picture of him after training in the military. and the only thing you could see was how big he got. big and bulky. he looked so sexy, so manly that the first thing you did when you went home was, make yourself come with your fingers to the sight of this picture. making a fucking mess.

"i asked you a question baby. answer me," he gasped breathlessly against your ear, his voice low and raspy. he kissed down your neck slowly, leaving light bites, desperate to mark you. to mark you as his. “tae not.” were the only words you could get out, way to fucked up. you agreed when you started this ‘relationship’ that you would leave no marks. no hickeys, no nail marks on his back. nothing. because how was a world-famous idol going to explain to his make-up artist where all the marks on his neck came from?

"should i send him a video of me fucking your tight pussy. what do you say?” you knew exactly who he meant. “maybe then he will stop flirting with you.”

he chuckled.

“or better i'll call him over and show him what a cockslut you are for me,” he swivelled against your ear, licking where he'd marked you. you convulsed around him. a needy moan escaped your lips. at this point he was just desperate. desperate to get a response from you. you knew why he was doing this, you knew what he wanted, why he pushed you, and yet, you flirted with jimin. looking deep in his eyes, smiling devilishly. and that was all it took for him to explode. and maybe he knew why you did it too.

“you like that? the thought of jimin seeing how i’m fucking you? fucking your needy pussy for months,” he moaned as he abused your cunt. taehyung slows his pace, but only so he can penetrate you harder. each slap that connects with your skin elicited a pornographic moan from your throat. you felt his balls slapping harsh fully against your ass, and how his bodies presses you against the cool surface. his fingers still rubbing and pinching your clitoris, making you cry out. fuck, you would never get tired of this.

“tae please.” you didn't know what you were begging for. were you begging for him? or for the thought of him filming you? how he was fucking you hard and mercilessly. how he fucked you, a mere employee of HYBE. maybe that was the reason why the whole thing had started between you in the first place. why you were on your knees with taehyung's cock in your mouth in the first week. blowing him like it was about winning the gold madeille. or maybe the fact that the whole thing was secretly giving you the kink. the thought that something could come out at any moment. someone seeing you. that this was your dirty little secret.

“no matter how hard you try to make me jealous,” each of his thrusts deepened with the roll of his hips. “you're mine. say you're all mine.” you moaned loudly. your breaths became shorter, your chest rose and fell quickly. his fingers let go of your clit and found your neck.

with each thrust he hit the sweet spot inside you, the pressure intensifying until you think you might break. your eyes watered, not from pain, but from the intensity of the lust that built up and threatens to swallow you whole. you could feel his muscles tensing, his body on the verge of its own release.

you nod, “yes-yes i'm yours,” your voice turned into a high-pitched whimper and then you come. you come undo on his throbbing cock. still as he kisses your gspot with his tip ans for a moment you think you see the stars, mound dropped no sound coming out. only hearing the pounding of your racing heart in your ears. no, you really were seeing the stars. taehyung really outdid himself. “fuck. fuck. fuck.” taehyung fucked you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. his fingers clasped your neck harder, the pain of your high coursing through you, riding out your high.

he pulled your head to his neck and greedily presses his lips to yours in a messy, teeth clashing kiss. the angle was uncomfortable, especially since your head was stretched in painful way. but you didn’t care. it felt good. way too good. you gases pain-filled into his mouth, taehyung seizing the opportunity to push his tongue slopply into your mouth.

“gonna fill you up. gonna mark this pussy,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “gonna pump you so fucking full of me, that it‘ll be dripping out of your cunt for days.” his voice sending another shiver through you, making your oversensitive clench around his cock. and then he's burying himself deep with an animalistic moan, his cock twitching as he spills inside you, colouring your inner walls white. not stopping until you feel the mixture of his and your come dripping down your thighs.

soft moans and the sharp hiss of breath are the only sounds in the room. no other sound can be heard for a couple of seconds. you try to get your breathing under control.

taehyung pulls himself out of you. you whimper at the loss of the feeling of fullness. then he bends his head down to your ear. “you’re mine. only mine,” he said as pushes the mess leaking out of your cunt back in it.

maybe you should make him jealous more often.

[formulafanfics13]

can u write lewis x reader (merc era) where she's dating george but found george cheating on her after winning vegas '24 so she had sex with lewis as a way to find comfort? that's the general idea. you can add whatever you want however it seems fit. thank you 🩷

Sins in the Desert - LH44 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: After discovering George cheating via an Instagram Story, she spirals — heartbroken, humiliated, and alone. She turns to Lewis, who comforts her with gentle but unfiltered honesty, revealing he’s wanted her all along. What follows is emotional and intimate: a night of slow, worshipful sex that rewrites everything George broke.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cheating (George), emotional vulnerability, comfort sex, crying during sex, oral sex (f receiving), possessive dynamics, soft dom Lewis, hurt/comfort, post-breakup intensity, minor angst, emotional intimacy.

She finds out through a fucking Instagram Story.

Not from George. Not from anyone at Mercedes. Not even from the girl herself.

 Just a drunk, blurry video posted by some paddock influencer, taken from the VIP section of a club. The music’s deafening. The lights are red. And in the middle of it all, George Russell is standing at a booth with a girl’s tongue down his throat and his hand on her ass. Shirt unbuttoned. Race suit long forgotten. Champagne in one hand and betrayal in the other.

It plays on loop. Over. And over. And over. She’s still in her dress. The one she wore to the afterparty. Black velvet. Backless. Gold heels discarded by the door of the hotel suite she and George were supposed to share tonight. Supposed to. That was before he decided to win Las Vegas and celebrate by cheating on her.

Not just anyone, either. Some fucking TikTok girl with 2.7 million followers and zero shame. She watches the video again. This time with the sound off. And then she throws the phone across the room.

There’s silence for a beat. Just her ragged breathing and the hum of the Strip through the windows. Neon lights flickering against the ceiling. Her mascara’s halfway down her face, and she doesn’t even realise she’s crying until she hears herself gasp.

She feels pathetic. And she knows exactly who to call.

It’s not even a conversation. One ring and Lewis picks up.

He sounds half-asleep. “Hey.” She can’t speak. Just breathes, shallow and tight. There’s a pause. Then, softer: “Where are you?”

“Still at the Bellagio.”

“Okay. Let me get you.”

“No.” Her voice cracks. “Just… just send the room number.”

Another pause. “Sweetheart-”

“Please, Lew.”

The silence that follows is heavy. And then he tells her.

She knocks once. The door opens instantly. Lewis is shirtless. Low sweatpants, gold chain, half-lidded eyes. But all she sees is how gentle his face goes when he looks at her. How fast his jaw tenses. She hasn’t even spoken yet. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

He pulls her in. Shuts the door behind them. Holds her without hesitation.

She shakes in his arms. Just once. Then again. Like the dam finally breaks. He smells like warm skin and expensive soap. His hands stroke up her back, grounding her. And when she finally pulls away, there’s something sharp in his eyes.

“George?” he asks quietly.

She nods once.

“Fuck,” he repeats, but this time it’s lethal. “What did he do?”

She can’t say it. So she pulls out her phone, opens the Instagram Story, and hands it over.

Lewis watches the clip in full. Then again. And again. His face doesn’t move, but his body does, clenches tight, jaw locked, breath shallow. “I’ll kill him.”

“I already unfollowed her,” she whispers. “Isn’t that stupid? That’s the first thing I did.”

Lewis sets the phone down. “It’s not stupid.”

“I just-” Her voice shakes. “I feel disgusting.”

“Don’t.”

“He won and he still-” She chokes. “He was all over me in the garage. He said I was his good luck charm. He said-”

Lewis cuts her off by kissing her forehead. Slow. Devastating. Careful. “I’m gonna say something,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to do anything with it. You don’t have to respond. But I’ve wanted you since day one.”

Her breath catches.

“I wanted you when you were with him. When you were smiling like he was the one who made you happy. When I knew he wasn’t. When I saw you look at me and then look away like it scared you.”

Her lips part.

“I never touched you. Never tried. But I thought about it every goddamn day.”

“Lewis-”

“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispers, voice thick and raw. “Not because I’m second best. Not because you’re broken. But because I know how to touch you without breaking you further.”

And that’s all it takes. She kisses him first. Hard. Desperate. Like she wants to rip him apart. And he lets her. Lets her push him against the bed, lets her climb on top, lets her grind down hard enough to bruise. But he doesn’t stay passive. Not for long. He flips them without warning, pins her to the mattress, and kisses her like he’s trying to rewrite everything George ever did wrong.

“Tell me what you need,” he mutters against her throat.

“I need to not feel like I’m second choice.”

He looks at her, eyes dark. “You’re not.”

He makes her come with his fingers first. Slow, relentless, crooning praise against her neck like a prayer. Then with his mouth, dragging it out until her legs shake and she begs him to stop. Then with his cock, fucking her so deep and slow it feels like a promise. He holds her down. Strokes her face. Tells her she’s beautiful. That she deserved better. That she still does. At one point, she cries.

He doesn’t stop. Just kisses the tears away and keeps rocking into her, whispering her name like it’s the only truth that matters. “Mine now,” he says, voice rough. “You hear me? Mine.”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, Lew. Yours.”

He fucks her through it.

They don’t sleep. Not really. She dozes on his chest for a bit. Wakes up to his hand between her thighs again. This time she doesn’t cry. She moans. Loud. Shameless. He takes it all.

In the morning, she wakes to her phone vibrating with a text from George.

George: I’m sorry. Can we talk?

She blocks the number. And Lewis? He’s already making coffee shirtless, humming something slow and soulful, completely unbothered. She walks up behind him. Wraps her arms around his waist.

He turns, kisses her temple, and hands her a mug. “You’re free now,” he says softly. “What do you want to do with it?”

[phrandallanton]

I've been thinking of making a GENZ version of my OCs for a bit now. So here it is. If there's any spelling mistakes or just mistakes overall let me know!

Joesph is your typical twitch streamer, one of the more beloved ones. He does get canceled over small things and befriending bad people, but overall everyone deems him to be non problematic. 

Joesph mostly streams video games and the occasional whatever. But he also has a channel dedicated to computer science and robotics. Definitely helping people with building their gaming PCs.

Just like how he is originally, He's bestfriends with Joshie in this AU too. He probably tried to publicly support her work but then he got "canceled" and it just led up to Joshie getting more hate than love. Now Joesph supports her privately. He adores her fan fictions (even if he doesn't know anything about what she's writing) and always sends her seal videos or anything that he thinks will make Joshie happy! I can't remember if Joshie is an artist in this AU, but if she is then Joesph has probably asked if she would draw some stuff for his channel before.

Joepsh finds Pete's thirst traps cringe. Pete probably forced him to record one for him, the whole video was shaky due to Joesph laughing. Joesph actually knows japanese (Yes I just added this. He would totally know japanese, dude. Trust.) With that, Jerry asks him to translate for him from time to time so he can more accurately fake being japanese. Joesph thinks it's weird and wrong to fake something like that (because it is) but Jerry uses him still interacting with Joshie and his friendship with Joshie as blackmail. Uhhh, him and Bill probably don't like eachother. I could see them fighting over waifus or something dumb like that. Jokes on Bill, Joesph got Vinny to draw Bill pregnant. Made sure to make it clear he was going to be a single mother too.

Speaking of Vinny, Oh God. She makes art commentary videos on youtube. Her opinions aren't the best considering she's always contradicting herself. Stupid. But her not extreamly big yet dedicated group of white knights support her simply because she's a "pretty" women. And since Vinny is dumb she genuinely thinks that these people actually care about her takes on things.

She does mostly NSFW art commissions to earn money. Trying to save up so she can go to collage and become a marine biologist. However she's not responsible with her money so take that as you will.

Just like how she is originally, she still goes on fourm sites to take down anyone she's jealous of. And just like how she interacted with Greedo318, she does interacted with Bill on these fourms from time to time. Once again, probably not aware it's him, because she's stupid. In reality, away from the computers, in real life, IRL, Vinny actually finds Bill to be attractive appearance wise. But that's all he has going for him. He's just good to look at, preferably far away and not talking.

Currently re-working working original Vinny, and now she's friends with Josh so she would also be friends with Joshie. She likes hanging out with her on discord VCs as she's doing commissions while watching one of Joesphs dumb streams. She does try to defend Joshie on fourms but she's mostly busy speading misinformation on the people she hates.

Uhhh Vinny doesn't care about Jerry too much. Yeah she also thinks he's cute but can't get over the fact that he vapes. Even though she would probably hit a vape and she owns a bong. Just thinks anyone who vapes gives off douche bag vibes.

Probably wishes she could be in one of Pete's thirst traps dispite not finding him attractive one bit. Maybe if he keeps a mask on, it'll work. Guh...freak. Also, ex alt kid of 2020, has a Dino mask and some paper dragons locked up in a closet, nearly got diabetes from the "battery acid" drink, probably drank it with Joesph, still a monster drink addict, bunny hat and a danganronpa cosplay is lurking somewhere.

Okay, good night everyone! Sometimes the characters in the pilot remind me of fish.

[the-pallid-king]

"Yeah. A few videos." He smirks, amused in spite of the inconvenience of it. "They got all our good angles. It's a fun watch." He most definitely has one or two saved on his phone now.

He knows Ichigo wants an answer now, or as soon as possible. He knows it must be irritating to have to wait to ask again. Ichigo keeps bringing it up. He knows. He gets it. And he doesn't want to give the impression that he's on the fence. "I like him, but he's second choice hands down." He just really needs to be sure that Ichigo's sure.

Ichigo says that with such confidence that Shiro absolutely believes him. In this moment, he is exactly what Ichigo wants. But he was what Ichigo wanted before, maybe all along, and he still left him. He still let his brain do the talking and left Shiro alone with nothing but heartache and the career move that Ichigo caused. Still. He snorts a quiet laugh, watching that tapping motion. "Figures. I got all this money to throw into something like that, and you want it as plain as possible." It's something he'll keep in mind though. "Maybe I should go the oposite. Get you some diamond encrusted brass knuckles or something."

That is quite the reaction. It makes him sure he needs to meet this person. "What'd you say her name was? Yoruichi?" But then he makes a face. "Turn me? Turn me into what? A vampire? An assassin? A werewolf?" He knows what Ichigo's getting at. "A vampire, werewolf assassin? Because she'd have to be a god to turn me straight and if she has that power, she could do way cooler things than fuck with my sexual preference."

It's not at all surprising that the idea of being catalogued doesn't sit well with Ichigo but Shiro trusts he wont do anything rash about it. He shrugs. "Habit. Don't you walk into a room and assess possible threats even when you're not there for violence? Same way I walk into a bar and clock everyone I think I could buy from or convince to buy me a drink, even though I can get whatever I want and I could buy the whole bar." His brows furrow. Parting Ichigo out would have been such a fucking waste, even from a strictly business standpoint, but the idea still makes him want to rip someones throat out with his teeth.

He nods. It would be a lie if he tried to say he wasn't curious about this Yoruichi lady. If Ichigo is actually asleep when she calls, he's going to invite her over for drinks on Ichigo's behalf. For a second he considers telling Ichigo he knows where to find the bedroom, but he's not actually feeling that petty right now. Besides, if the way Ichigo struggled down the stairs is anything to go by, Ichigo might not make it down the hallway.

He straightens from his seat, leaving his glass and the bottle behind, and starts in the direction of the bedroom, pausing at Ichigo's side to offer him a hand.

He rolls his eyes. "I only woulda yelled at you 'cause you coulda just used the front door." He might have closed the door in Ichigo's face every once in a while, just to keep him humble, but he would have let him in at least 80% of the time.

His attention flickers down to his glass for a moment. Empty. He busies himself with grabbing the bottle and refilling it while he shrugs a shoulder. "Don't worry about it." He takes a drink, but he's had enough that he's not really tasting it at this point. Kind of a shame, because it's an expensive bottle. "He asked about you. He saw the video from the party." And he's only just now realizing that he probably recognized Ichigo from the car bombing thing. Shit. "If you're serious still in a few days, I'll break it to him."

A laugh bubbles from him without his permission when Ichigo makes that face. Serves him right, really. "Obviously. And yes I can. You underestimate my ability to be jealous." But he heaves a sigh about that last detail. "I'm gonna keep you around. I always want you around, always have. I just have to know you're serious and not high on pain meds and, I dunno. Endorphins from being alive. I'm not sure I can take committing only for you to change your mind. If fucking gutted me the first time, I don't know what it'll do this time." That's all a little too honest and open which means it's probably time to stop drinking.

That explains the level of professionalism. His brows arch a little, impressed. "When are you gonna introduce me? You should have her over for drinks sometime." He watches that secret knock of a phone call. Very interesting.

Snorting, he takes another sip. "Of course it was and his catalog is in his head. I'm sure he was taking inventory." He's pretty sure Szayel is always taking inventory. "He's a creep but he's not stupid. You're safe. He wouldn't touch you wrong with a ten foot pole."

Ichigo stands and looks like he might not stay that way for a moment. Shiro tenses for a brief second, before relaxing again when he's sure Ichigo's not about to fall. He glances to his phone. "Am I supposed to answer it or let it ring?" Because Ichigo looks ready to pass out. He shrugs, "I dunno. I got a couple hours yesterday morning I think. You should get some rest."

[sab0dssey]

You were bored. Hopelessly, pathetically bored. Alone at home, in one of Satoru’s oversized shirts that still smelled like his cologne. He was at work, of course saving the world, dealing with curses, or whatever it was that made him forget to reply to your fourth “I’m sooooo bored pls come home 🥺” text. You sighed dramatically, flopping face-first into the couch. Scroll. Scroll. More couples dancing. More people pretending to cry. A raccoon in a dress. Scroll.

Then you paused. A video popped up a girl with a bruised face filter, pranking her boyfriend. He was in hysterics, panicking, until she started laughing. You blinked. Why didn’t I think of this sooner? With renewed purpose, you sat up straight, opened the filter, and tilted your face until the bruises looked realistically tragic. You even cried a little, wiping your tears dramatically as if this were a sad movie audition. Snap. Perfect. You sent the photo to Satoru with the message:

“I didn’t want to freak you out while you were at work, but… I got into an argument with a cashier and they punched me”

And then you waited. One minute. Two. Three…Left on read.

“EXCUSE me!?” you said aloud, arms in the air. “How dare you ignore me in my hour of fake need?”

You were just about to send a dramatic GIF when the front door slammed open like a storm. “BABY?!” Satoru’s voice cracked through the house, full of panic. You heard something crash. Probably the vase. Again.

He burst into the living room, eyes wide, tie hanging loose, hair windblown. “Where is the fucking asshole!? Who did this to you?! Was it a man? A woman? Do you need the hospital? Do you—”

He stopped mid-sentence. You were sitting there, grinning, unhurt, and clearly very proud of yourself.

“…You’re joking,” he said flatly. “Tell me you’re joking.” You couldn’t hold it anymore. You burst into giggles, clutching your stomach. He stared. Jaw clenched. Nose flared. Hands on hips like an angry dad.

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“I LEFT A MEETING WITH THE HIGHER-UPS FOR THIS.”

More giggles.

“I TELEPORTED INTO A TAXI.”

You were on the floor laughing now.

“I MAY HAVE COMMITTED A TRAFFIC VIOLATION.”

You snorted. Loudly. “Wait… you teleported… into a taxi?”

His eye twitched.

“I PANICKED.”

Now you were laughing harder. “You’re literally the strongest sorcerer alive—!”

“I SAID I PANICKED!”

He stomped over, looming above you like an avenging god. Then, with the most overdramatic finger point in history:

“Punishment.”

You blinked. “Wait, what—”

“No cuddles for three days.” You gasped like he slapped you. “No kisses.” Your soul left your body.

“No shirt borrowing.” You clutched your chest. “You monster…”

“And,” he said, crouching to your level with an evil smirk, “I’m making you watch me eat your snacks. One by one. Without sharing.”

“SATORU.”

He patted your head like a villain who just blew up a puppy shelter. “Actions have consequences, baby.”

You groaned. “Can’t we negotiate?!”

“Nope. This is Gojo law now. Not Satoru, Gojo.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay. Fine. But when you’re lonely and cold tonight because I’m not cuddling you, don’t come crying—”

“I’ll teleport into another taxi and cry there.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. Then burst out laughing like idiots. Even if cuddles were banned for three days (as if he’d last that long), you both knew it wouldn’t even survive the night.

I want him.

© 2025 sab0dssey

[ghostdnfie]

long recap cause im confused too:

so

dream has a gf, people are Not Normal about it cause 'poor dnfs' and 'george must be depressed' (<- ?? its confirmed that dream has been dating her since 2023 so like. what? why would george be depressed??). dream said that the dteam doesnt hang around a lot irl cause, and i quote,

like if we're going anywhere cool we usually go with each other. if we're doing anything, we go with each other. if we're doing like, i dunno, we go out to eat sometimes. we go do random stuff. we hang out and drink or watch a show or whatever.

basically they're homebodies yk

and then sapnap jumps in with a classic “nah, he’s lying” and dream’s like “no, you’re the liar.” honestly, it’s just them being their usual goofy selves, but people online want to make a whole drama out of literally nothing </3

i saw people absolutely losing it because dream said he personally wouldn’t really do irl content, that he’d just join sapnap and george in their irl videos instead. and the hot take people had? “if dream just did irl content showing they’re still besties, nothing would’ve happened.” like... what? dream’s made it clear he’s just not into that kind of content for himself. who even said friends have to constantly put their friendship on display for validation? friendships don’t have to be content fodder to exist or be real.

BUT I DIGRESS

so now people are saying dream’s “trying too hard” to make everyone like his girlfriend? like, all he did was mention a few songs were about her—which honestly is pretty normal—and that he’s known her forever and really likes her. and suddenly that’s a problem like, what exactly is he supposed to do? pretend she doesn’t exist? act like his feelings aren’t real?

and of course, the grifriend gets dragged too — people calling her a hypocrite because she “doesn’t want to be a public figure” but then dream says she might show up in his content sometimes. like, yeah? they’re dating. it’s normal she’d be around, might post photos, might appear here and there.

oh man 😭 what a mess

from what dream said i didn’t get the impression he was trying to force us to like her at all. it was more him being like ‘hey so i’ve been dating this person for a while now’ and revealing things that he’s ready to now that he wasn’t before (like the songs being about her, of course he wasn’t going to say that before he revealed they were dating). and with the her being in content thing, she can absolutely just randomly show up in stuff whenever she feels like it without being considered a cc, even drista for instance (as i think dream mentioned) does that sometimes and she’s not considered a cc as it’s very casual and not done with the intent of her being the focus/her creating the content for/about herself mainly.

as for the dteam friendship thing, they’ve stated so many times that they’re very close and it’s clear any of their bickering is just how they banter lol. he def doesn’t owe skeptical ppl proof of that over and over. as a wise georgenotfound said in october 2022, “dream team forever”. they won’t all want to make the same content all the time or hang out all the time and it doesn’t make them any less friends.

[delicateperspective]

Hi, this new PR relationship of Harry’s did affect me a bit. I mean, I had mentally prepared myself for whatever might come after Louis liked that reel, but the video still caught me off guard. And I don’t know, I feel like it’s slightly changed the way I see Harry — like for some reason, I’ve started doubting everything and kind of buying into this womanizer or rockstar narrative. Even when I saw the girl’s Instagram, my first thought was, “Well, she looks like someone Harry the rockstar would date.”

And I wanted to ask if that’s ever happened to you. Like, leaving larry aside, have you ever found yourself doubting everything you believe about Harry and wondering if maybe the stuff the media says about him is actually true?

i’ve said before that i think it’s healthy to sometimes question your own beliefs. not just in this but in everything. religion, politics, morals, world view, sexuality, gender, identity, etc.

i think that we should never just fall into things blindly.

that said, this particular stunt did not make me feel that way at all. even the official narrative is that H didn’t know her before the festival. so her being “someone harry the rockstar would date” kind of goes out the window because even HE wouldn’t have known that.

they walked into a club separately. danced for a little while. shared a 12 second kiss that was more just lips physically pushing against each other than an actual kiss. and then he left and went to get chicken wings while she stayed there.

if you want to question, i support that. truly, i do.

but make sure as you question that you’re REALLY looking at all the evidence and forming your own opinion and not the one that the sun headlines are trying to force on you.

i’m going to keep repeating this in every ask like this, so it’s truly not about you or directed to you, but i’m not here to change anyone’s mind or convince anyone of anything. like lou said “people can believe what they want to believe”. i’m not going to be the one to police that. but i just don’t think Hella is anything to get worked up about in my opinion.

[philosopherking1887]

What does it mean to "redeem" a country, anyway? Is it somehow to make up for, to compensate for, its past misdeeds? What would be sufficient to do that in the case of the US? Is "redeemable" distinct from "salvageable," or "improvable"? Is there an implicit claim that if it's impossible for a country to do enough good to outweigh the evil it has done, it's pointless to try to make it better, because it will never be sufficient to "redeem" it? That if it isn't "redeemed," it should remain evil in all ways, to make its moral worthlessness obvious to all? Is "redemption" an all-or-nothing matter?

It's been a while since I've posted bitching about moral rigorism on the Left, but here we are again. Moral rigorism is the view that if you're not morally perfect, you're morally worthless; if you told a small lie, or watched porn once, you might as well be a serial murderer, because you're just as completely damned. You might think that this view would be incompatible with Christianity -- consider the parable of the prodigal son -- but you do find it in some forms of Protestantism; the point is to prove that we're all equally "irredeemable" sinners on our own, regardless of apparent differences in our moral status, and so can only be saved by abasing ourselves before God and accepting Jesus's sacrifice on our behalf, thanks to God's unearned and unearnable grace.

As we all know, artifacts of various types of (especially Protestant) Christian theology can show up in secularized political guises, not least in Leftist movements. Here, too, is an example of that: the conviction on the "liberationist" Left that a Western country like the US (whose sins, of course, are many and grave!) can never do enough good to redeem itself on its own -- and it's inexcusably arrogant to think that it can, and viciously deceptive if it even appears to be showing moral improvement through its own efforts, which can only be cosmetically superficial given the depths of its true sinfulness. Instead, it should be allowed to languish in its inevitable decay -- to "hit rock bottom," in the terms of another Christian moral movement -- until it is redeemed from without, either by being justly vanquished by the forces of righteous liberation from the "Global South/East" (China, Iran [I actually saw someone on here call the IRI "a progressive force for good" recently], North Korea, even Russia, which is hardly "South" but still gets to count as Not Evil West), or by a revolution of its own oppressed people, which counts as redemption "from without" insofar as the revolutionaries are considered outsiders who have never benefited from institutions of American power, and the revolution consists in wholly destroying existing systems such that whatever rises in their place cannot be considered continuous with the previously existing nation.

As the quotation from Maria Ressa indicates, many people in the Global South -- even in countries like the Philippines that have suffered from American imperial oppression -- do not want that outcome. They want to believe that even deeply flawed countries can turn themselves around, can make themselves better through peaceful political means and the efforts of civil society. For many of them, the US is not primarily a symbol of Western imperial aggression (though of course it is not innocent of that), but of internal progress toward greater freedom and justice.

Maybe the tankie types will say that this indicates that Ressa herself is a shill for the imperialist West, or has been duped into false consciousness by global capitalist ideology (they, of course, Know Better, having Read Theory... or watched a YouTube video essay about it, anyway). But let us for a moment suppose that she is thinking and speaking autonomously, and take what she says seriously. Maybe what the victims of American imperialism want from the US is not its humiliation and destruction, but the actual fulfillment of the promises of liberty, justice, and equality that it has not yet made good. Not "redemption," perhaps, but a proof of the possibility of improvement. If that's the case, then Americans owe it not only to the vulnerable people in their own country (which you think would be enough to motivate people who claim to care about the plight of the oppressed), but also to the people fighting for democracy in places where it's fragile (like the Philippines, or Thailand, or Hungary), and in places where it's still just an aspiration (like Myanmar, Syria, Egypt, Belarus), to prove to them that they're not fighting for a lost cause.

I understand why people call the US "irredeemable", because, yes. But at the same time, it's very frustrating, because I always seem to see it as "so there's no point trying." But at the end of the day the US will still be a country. It's not going anywhere. So if we aren't trying to make it better, then what's the point?

[scary-grace]

Woah! Endgame just got Isekaid into a timeline where Tomura Shigaraki is very much still alive and leader of the villains! What's his reaction?

This ask set my brain on fire, and a fic came out of it. This is set between part ii and part iii of ‘the one’ and covers some of your ask. (Please feel free to send another if it’s unsatisfactory!)

Endgame can’t figure out why everyone’s staring at him. Or why they look so scared. It’s not the only weird thing that’s happening — he’s in the United States, not in Japan — but he’s been to America before, and nobody stared at him like that then. He glances down at himself to see if he somehow left wherever he’s been staying naked, but he looks normal. He’s in his normal hero costume, which is subtle but still easily identifiable as a hero costume. The only difference between this one and his other one is the fact that he’s got a hood up and his face is mostly covered, and he’s not the only hero who wears a mask. He doesn’t get why everyone’s looking at him like that.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, either, but somehow he knows how to get there — and he knows it’s important. And he knows something bad is happening. The civilians he passes are nervous, some of them glued to their phones, some of them looking up at the sky. What’s happened? What’s going on?

Someone’s listening to a YouTube video out loud as Endgame waits for the elevator in a nondescript building, and he listens idly in. “The strike, consisting of three tactical nuclear bombs at strategic locations, has been confirmed to be a failure. The League of Villains took to the airwaves to celebrate their victory just fifteen minutes ago. We have been forbidden from broadcasting the entirety of the statement —”

The elevator doors open, and Endgame steps forward, but the people inside press the close-doors button and it slides shut in his face. Endgame feels a familiar flicker of temper, a faint twinge of rejection and hurt, but he’s learned to live with both. He’ll take the stairs. Even if he doesn’t know where he’s going, his body does.

The floor he’s supposed to go to is sealed and guarded, but the guards look him over without flinching and let him through. So it’s the civilians’ problem, not Endgame’s. He wishes they weren’t into making their problems his problem. He’s already dreading going back out onto the street after this is over. Whatever this is.

The sealed floor is active, full of cops and soldiers and heroes. Endgame recognizes a lot of the heroes. Uravity, Ryukyu, Red Riot, Star and Stripe, Mt. Lady, Edgeshot, plus a bunch of heroes from other countries who he’s never met. They’re easy to spot, though. They’ve all got patches on the arm of their costumes with their national flag on them. Endgame checks his own sleeve and finds Japan’s flag staring up at him.

“It didn’t work,” he hears Mt. Lady saying, baffled. “How could it not have worked?”

“You didn’t fight him. I did. It was never going to work.” Star and Stripe’s Japanese is heavily accented, but she gets straight to the point. Endgame remembers that from the first time he met her. “If any of those missiles had hit their targets, it would have gotten thousands of innocent people killed.”

“There aren’t innocent people over there any longer,” Lemillion says. Endgame didn’t see him until now. If Lemillion’s here, Kao probably is, too. “China and Russia have folded. They’re offering an alliance to the League of Villains.”

“To Japan,” Ryukyu corrects softly.

“That’s not Japan. This is Japan.” Red Riot gestures around the room with a clenched fist. “We have to take it back. Isn’t that what we’re all doing here?”

What happened? Endgame must have missed something big. He quits eavesdropping and goes looking for Kaoruko. He’ll feel less stupid asking her than anybody else.

He finds her talking to Centipeder, her voice anxious and breathy like it gets when she’s truly spooked. “What if he comes here? He knows this is where the missiles came from.”

“Multiple countries have targeted him. He’s never retaliated before. Why would he do so now?”

Endgame’s pretty sure any world leader would retaliate to being nuked, but he can’t figure out why America thought nukes were a good idea, again. None of this makes sense in the way Endgame wants it to. Someone took over Japan and exiled dozens of heroes. Whoever it is, everyone’s terrified of them. They’re scary enough that Russia and China want to be their ally instead of trying to fight them. There’s only one person Endgame can think of who has that kind of power.

But Sensei’s dead. Endgame knows Sensei’s dead. He sat next to Sensei’s body for hours, waiting for him to move again, but Sensei stayed still and went cold. It can’t be Sensei. If it isn’t Sensei —

“May I have your attention!” That voice is familiar, too. It’s the president of the HPSC, and they’re standing there alongside some American government official. “As you’ve undoubtedly heard, the League of Villains repelled the tactical strike. Additionally, they’ve signaled that they are receptive to the alliance offered by China and Russia. The terms of this alliance are not favorable. In exchange for avoiding total destruction, the alliance cedes control of both countries’ nuclear arsenals to Occupied Japan, giving its leader the power to inflict untold damage without ever leaving his own borders. This is not something we can allow.”

The American speaks up. “Preventing the destruction of the free nations of the world, as well as reclaiming Japan for its own people, requires an all-out military response. The nations whose heroes are present here have already committed troops to the cause.”

Fucking hell. It has to be Sensei. If it’s Sensei, and Sensei’s strong enough to repel nuclear bombs, they’ve got no chance against him. The HPSC president is talking again, and Endgame forces himself to listen. “The message broadcast by the League of Villains was restricted from public view, but I have it here for you. In case you needed a reminder of why this monster needs to be destroyed.”

Right. A monster. Sensei is a monster, and he can be destroyed — All Might came close, and someone else, maybe Endgame, can finish the job. Endgame breathes deep for a second, relaxes his shoulders for a second, thinks it might be okay for a second longer than that. Then the broadcast begins, and Endgame’s world warps beyond recognition.

It’s him. The person dead center of the screen is Endgame — the same face he sees in the mirror every morning when he wakes up, the same hair that always gets tangled, the same scarred face and red eyes. Except Endgame’s only see that look on his face in his nightmares. The man staring out at him from the screen is grinning like a maniac, his eyes lit up from within. “This is Shigaraki Tomura, coming to you live from what was supposed to be Ground Zero,” he says, “and I want to know how many times I’m going to have to teach you all this lesson.”

The camera zooms out slightly, enough to reveal the wreckage Endgame — Tomura — is standing in. Tomura has something in his hand, something he’s tossing up and catching like a baseball. “I really should come over there and jam this thing back down your throat. Or better yet, Decay your whole fucking continent out from under your feet. That’s what you expect, right? That’s what a monster should do.”

It’s Endgame but it’s not. It’s who he should have been. Who he would have been if All Might hadn’t taken him away from Sensei. This is what Tenko would have grown up to be — Shigaraki Tomura, whose smile screams crazy, whose hatred is oozing out from behind his eyes. What did he even do to destroy Japan like this, so much that the heroes are in exile and countries that are twenty times Japan’s size are bowing down? Does Tenko even want to know?

“But I’m not going to do that,” Tomura continues on-screen. “I’m not playing your game. We’re playing my game now, and it’s still your move. Send more missiles if you want. Weapons-grade plutonium is a cool collector’s item. But if you want my advice? You should come and see.”

Tenko can’t watch anymore. He looks away, around the room, seeking anywhere else, and as his eyes drift over the assembled heroes, he see someone who shouldn’t be here at all. Eri hates heroes. She puts up with Endgame, but that’s it, and Tenko can’t imagine a world where she’d become a hero willingly. So why is she in costume, staring up at the screen with hatred in her eyes? What is she doing here?”

“Come and see,” Tomura repeats onscreen, and Tenko looks back. “See what you’re actually trying to destroy. Believe it or not, you don’t matter to me. What matters to me is here. So when you come and see, you’d better keep your distance. Because if you set one foot on this island, I’ll wipe you off the face of the earth.”

The broadcast should end there. Tomura’s silent, and so is the room. Tenko can’t figure out why no one’s turned it off, until Tomura takes a step back onscreen and points directly into the camera. At Tenko, and everyone turns to look at him. Someone pulls Tenko’s hood down, revealing his hair. Someone else catches his mask and yanks it down to bare his face, and as Tenko watches in numb horror, the expressions of his fellow heroes turn cold and frightened and furious. Eri is looking at Endgame like she hates him, and Kaoruko is glaring, too, her hands balled up into fists at her sides. There’s nothing familiar in her face. It’s like Tenko doesn’t know her at all.

“It’s me,” he says, his voice shaking, and the heroes lunge towards him as one.

Tenko lurches awake, struggling to breathe. For a moment he can’t even move. He can still feel the weight of his friends’ bodies crushing him to death, still feel their hands clawing at him and their teeth sinking into his skin. They were monsters, just like he was a monster — but it wasn’t him. He didn’t do whatever awful things had happened. It was Tomura. Shigaraki Tomura is the monster. Not Endgame, not Tenko. Tomura. Tenko clings to that thought until the weight on his chest eases enough for him to sit up.

It’s three am, according to the clock on his nightstand. Tenko feels like he’s run a marathon or something. But if he’d been running, he’d be too hot, not shivering with cold sweat dripping down his spine. He’s sweated through his clothes, soaking his side of the bed, and as Kao rolls over beside him, one of her hands touches Tenko’s.

Tenko knows he shouldn’t wake her up. Knows it’s the wrong thing to do. But he remembers the hatred in her face when she looked at him in the dream. He just needs to see. To know it wasn’t real. “Kao, uh —“

“You’re all sweaty,” she mumbles. “Gross.”

“Sorry,” Tenko says. “Kao, do you mind —“

What is Tenko even asking for? For her to wake up in the middle of the night and talk him down? For her to hold him and tell him it’s okay, like he’s a dumb kid again? Tenko knows better than all of that, and still, he asks. “Kao, can you just —“

She feels her way up his arm, recoiling when she reaches his shoulder. “Couch,” she says at once, and Tenko’s heart sinks. “Go.”

Tenko’s been spending a lot of nights on the living room couch lately. He takes his phone and a blanket with him and sprawls out, trying not to shiver. He scrolls on his phone for a while, trying to distract himself, but he can tell it isn’t working. He can’t stop thinking about the dream. He needs someone to talk to.

Tenko switches to his messaging app, scrolling past conversation after conversation that he’s already read. All Might checking in with him. Kao asking if he could grab milk on his way home and if he wanted to have sex tonight. Some reporter who’s been hassling him about the rescue last week, the missing kids who get to go home because of him. Tenko doesn’t know how many more times he needs to say it. It’s not because of him. It’s because of you.

You and Eri. Tomura can practically hear you insisting that the idea came from her, that she deserves the credit. The image of Eri in his dream, dressed in a hero’s costume, swims back into focus, and Tenko pushes it away with all his strength. He taps on the next message in the lineup and finds himself looking at his conversation with you. The last thing in it is him telling you to sleep well. You didn’t text back.

That’s nothing new. Every time Tenko tries to get closer to you, to figure you out, you pull back. It’s not the same as Kao shutting down on him. You keep him at a distance as a rule, and he doesn’t understand why he cares so much. He couldn’t talk to you about this, either. So why is he thinking about you? What would he even say?

Before he can think better of it, Tenko finds himself typing it out. Can I call you? I need someone to talk to. No, that’s not right. It’s not someone. If it was someone he could call All Might, who never sleeps anyway. It’s not someone. Tenko deletes it, then types what he really means: I need to talk to you. Can I call you?

He can’t send that. It’s three am. Tenko’s an adult. He can cope like an adult without dragging his friend into it. Tenko sets his phone down, pulls the blanket tighter around himself, and tenses up to stop the shivering. It’s a long time before he falls asleep.

When he does, Tomura’s waiting for him.

[littolmouse]

can i get headcanons or drabble about tenna with somnophilia? i beg you, pretty pretty please🙏🙏🙏

from @piirrah

YES U CAN GOAT!!!

Somno!Tenna hc’s for the soul :3

tw’s/cw’s: drugging, noncon, nonconsensual drug use, abuse of power mention, nonconsensual filming mention, somnophilia

-Lovessss to invite you out to drink after work! Once he finally gets you to come with him, he’ll slip something in your drink before handing it to you, only to play the part of the sweet, attentive boss only trying to help out his drunk employee!!

.Will offer to take you to your home since you’re obviously too inebriated, but once you get in his car he’ll just drive you to the nearest motel! It’s okay though, you’ll be passed out before you’re even able to realize he’s going the wrong way.

.Will obviously have sex with your unconscious body, I mean, how could he not when you just look so cute? Will deffo leave before you’re able to gain some form of consciousness, but he’ll at least make sure you’re properly tucked in before he goes!

.When you see him the next day at work, you’re unsure why, but you get this weird…feeling inside of your body whenever you guys interact with each other; it’s like you just feel so warm whenever you’re around him for whatever reason.

-

-If you guys are together, you’ll notice he’s definitely a late sleeper.

.Some nights, he doesn’t even sleep at all; on those nights he’ll just…watch you.

.Is a super observant guy! picks up on all the little things you do while you rest! all the quiet, nonsensical mumbles under your breath, all the little shifts of your body while you toss and turn.

.Sometimes, he notices that you’re calling out for him even while asleep and it drives him fucking crazy >_< the way you continue to think about him even while dreaming drives him up the wall, it gets him hard every single time!!

.He’s just such a gentleman, he won’t wake you up to satisfy himself >_< he doesn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep after all!

.Instead, he’ll just jerk himself off over you! He’ll use his hand to stifle all of his little moans so you can’t hear him.

.When he’s gonna cum, he’ll use his other hand to catch everything that comes out! He’s just that considerate of you <3

-

-In his prime, he was fs a user of some sort you cannot convince me otherwise ✌️😭 now his drug of choice is up for debate, but i hc he would for sure abuse alcohol/weed/coke and would exert his position of power over you to make you do it too!!

.Since he’s so much bigger than you, his tolerance for these substances are crazy high! you on the other hand, are such a lightweight it’s kinda crazy to him, but that’s why he makes you do it!

.There’s been so, so many times that you just got so blackout you never remember anything afterwards, but your boss always has the pictures and videos to remind you exactly what happened the night before;

The pictures and videos of him sliding his big cock in and out of your passed out holes.

The pictures and videos of you still moaning around him even while you’re unconscious.

.He never can get over the fact that even while fucked up and passed out, you’re still just so tight and around him LOLL

.Will absolutely use it for blackmail if you try to transfer jobs or try to find an excuse not to do drugs with him ✌️😭

.and so the cycle perpetuates

extra:

idk if y’all have ever seen that one bojack scene where hollyhock keeps chloroforming todd but that’s literally tenna ✌️😭lowkey enjoys drugging you lmfao, he just 'loves' you so so so much he can’t help himself from taking advantage of you, even if he knows it’s wrong and that you would leave him any chance you got. Also he just thinks it’s fun!! how easy it is to get you so vulnerable you can’t fight back against him!! He loves the feeling of control so much, probably even more than he 'loves' you!

i hope u enjoy!!!

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

Looking at the concept art of the submarine for Veilguard and seriously thinking about it, I'm really, really glad that the developers went for the Lighthouse, the Crossroads, and the eluvians, instead, because of the freedom it provides.

In the previous games, it's always been understood that travelling takes time. You always sort of have to try and not to think about that part too hard. In Origins, for the ideal outcome, you have to leave Redcliffe at the mercy of a child possessed by a powerful demon (who, I might add, has already once flooded the town with a horde of undead), for who knows how many days, so you can recruit the mages to attempt to solve the issue. Not to even mention that when you arrive to the mage tower, you also most likely end up finding out that they have their own problems there, which you have to deal with first. Who knows how long that takes. Then you travel all the way back to Redcliffe and still somehow save the situation with no further casualties. My point is: Either you have a headcanon for how that's even possible, or you don't think about it, or try not to think about it, or you choose a different solution, but the fact is that that's just insane. Realistically, it must take many days - precious time that Redcliffe does not have. And yet! It works out.

Then there's that whole thing with travelling to the Frostback Mountains to find the holy grail long-lost ashes of the Thedas' most revered prophet that may or may not be just a legend, with completely unpredictable, uncertain outcome. All that just to heal one nobleman, while the blight is consuming the land. That's going to take time, too.

We travel to a lot of places in Origins, and it's safe to assume that it's all done on foot, as there's no indication otherwise, so everything is very time-consuming. If you want to think about it realistically, it makes no sense to travel to distant places on a whim, because even the most essential trips take a lot of time as it is. But, of course, as the player, you can do whatever you want without repercussions. And I think that's fine because it's a video game, and it's supposed to be fun, and you're supposed to be able to suspend disbelief a little for the sake of the story and experience. So, I personally don't think that anything I've described above is really that much of an issue. Sure, we'll go all the way back to the Korcari Wilds to kill your mom, Morrigan. No problem. And, you know, at least the Hero of Ferelden sticks to... well... Ferelden.

I feel like the Inquisitor is the biggest offender when it comes to this. Inquisition still doesn't have any special means of travel for the vast majority of the game. Either they go on foot or on their mount. It still must take a lot of time to travel long distances. Going from Haven to Val Royeaux, from Skyhold to Crestwood or Storm Coast, and back, all the time, is going to take a lot of time. We're talking about travelling not only within but also between two different countries. Yet the Inquisitor often does it just to have a small chat with an NPC, to do somebody a favour, to spend time with a companion, just to have a romantic moment, or for other personal matters. Meanwhile, the main villain is on the loose, trying to figure out how to destroy the world. If you care about such things, you have to create headcanons around it - perhaps that date with our love interest in that remote location happened while we were there on a mission. Otherwise, you have the Inquisitor travelling from Ferelden to Orlais and back whenever they feel like it. Why wouldn't we take Cole all the way from Skyhold to a restaurant in Val Royeaux just to sit there and chat for a bit? It's not like we have anything important to do! That would take an absolutely obscene amount of time, no matter how fast your mount is.

I know I'm rambling, but I'll quickly sum it up: The protagonists and their companions before Veilguard didn't have any special means of transport. They were mostly on foot. They had mounts, at best. Travelling must have taken days or weeks, and they did it a lot, and they did it to get things done, and they also often did it for personal reasons and downtime, some very frivolous things even, while the world seemed to be near its end. Because it's a video game, you can do it all pretty willy-nilly. The player is not punished for it in any way. Only Origins sometimes gives you a random enemy encounter while travelling between maps. However, you can't fail any of the games or any of the quests by simply taking too long to do them and travelling around too much. In the traditional RPG fashion, the events of the game do not move forward unless you do specific quests, no matter how many times you've travelled from one corner of the map to the other and back.

What about that fantasy submarine, though?

While I must say that travelling deep underwater in Veilguard would be very interesting, and depending on the technology/magic employed, it could also go reasonably fast, its reach would still be limited. Pretty much everything we do in the game (besides Sea of Blood), we do on land, and you can only go to so many places through deep underwater travel. It simply wouldn't and couldn't be as fast and convenient as the eluvians. The whole game would have to be built around the submarine and still it feels like it wouldn't be enough if they wanted to make varied enough maps. Also, if some aren't happy with Veilguard now because it expands the magic lore and thus feels "too modern" (e.g. Bellara's magitechnobabble) or whatever, a magic steampunk submarine would hardly help.

The eluvians are, in my opinion, an absolutely brilliant way to do fast travel that requires very little suspension of disbelief in comparison with the previous games. And the best thing is that they were already well established in the previous games, especially in Inquisition. We were able to try them out. We know that thanks to the eluvian network, it's possible to travel all over Thedas in mere minutes. There is also more than one Crossroads-like network. The one Morrigan uses to hide in is something different from what we find in Trespasser, and what we find in Trespasser is different from the Lighthouse adjacent Crossroads, or... at the very least it must be a different part of it.

Because there's no established number of eluvians or a map of where they all are, they could be anywhere. Merrill might repair one in DAII. In Inquisition, we see them all over the place. We even see some in various nobles' homes. There is even a note you can find somewhere in the Exalted Plains and possibly another (I believe) in Emerald Graves that said that nobles even took the mirrors along with them when moving out of their homes, travelling with them. So, the eluvian network is vast and makes everything conveniently connected. I also imagine that Solas had some eluvians strategically placed for his own convenience. He had centuries for it. At the very least.

The reason why the eluvians are in all the convenient places in Veilguard, of course, is that it's a video game. That's the boring explanation. But when you try to think about more realistic reasons, it actually isn't all that hard. Because of the reasons I've already stated. Because the ancient elves used the eluvians to travel all over when their empire was at its peak, and we see and find many of the mirrors still intact in the games, even before Veilguard. They're massive, beautiful mirrors, and some people simply have them in their homes. Solas also surely worked on his network before and also after he woke up from his slumber. We know that because the remaining evanuris want nothing more than to invade and abuse Solas' Crossroads that he used so long to pester them before he finally locked them away. In the years before Veilguard, various people (factions) may also have learned of Solas' plans, the existence of the eluvians, and might have acquired one for themselves. They had a whole decade to do so. Or, in case of Weisshaupt, it is directly stated that they were given the mirror by the Dalish.

Considering that through Solas' carefully established personal network of eluvians, which he cultivated during the centuries lasting fight against the evanuris, travelling is supposed to take mere minutes, it feels so much less jarring when you see Rook and the companions travel all over the north as part of their operations but also when they want to have a little quality time between missions.

It helps that the game also makes it clear that sometimes Rook and some of the companions have to sit things out. Like when Harding goes to the Lords of Fortune to find a dragon hunter. Or when Davrin is tasked with getting more intel after Weisshaupt. Sometimes Rook has to wait for their specialists or allies to do their own thing, because nobody has any idea what the next step needs to be, and they need to figure that out first. There are various such moments in the game that make it easily possible not only for Rook and the companions to have a little bit of downtime here and there, just like the Inquisitor did, for example, but also for them to quickly go wherever the hell they want, be it for work or rest. The rest isn't really hard to headcanon around in comparison with what we experience in the previous games.

So, as much as I would love to see what underwater horrors Thedas might have to offer, I don't think the submarine would work nearly as well as the eluvian network does. Is anyone even arguing in favour of the submarine? I don't know. I haven't seen it myself. I'm not trying to push against anybody's opinion here or anything like that. Honestly, it got a little out of hand, but I just wanted to say how much I appreciate what they did with the eluvian network in Veilguard. It's an excellent example of implementing fast travel in a way that is based on the already well established lore, setting, and the in-game reality, and allows for incredible flexibility and support in handling the events in the game. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfect.