#Class Notes of Reaction Mechanism

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics. 

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class. 

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late. 

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist. 

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression. 

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction. 

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started. 

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense. 

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage. 

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.” 

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.” 

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-” 

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated. 

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early. 

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too! 

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats. 

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same. 

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party. 

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now. 

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!” 

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.  

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house. 

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people. 

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo. 

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests. 

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle. 

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you. 

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction. 

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo- 

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.” 

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses. 

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.” 

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room. 

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness. 

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.” 

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin. 

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.” 

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours. 

Soft, they were so soft. 

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back. 

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around. 

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now. 

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name. 

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.” 

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams. 

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt. 

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing. 

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much. 

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd. 

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away. 

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The  tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt. 

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over. 

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!” 

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch. 

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired. 

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often. 

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing. 

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could. 

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you. 

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind. 

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened. 

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?” 

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now. 

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one. 

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.” 

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity. 

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.  

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting. 

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration. 

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought. 

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow. 

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.” 

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this. 

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last. 

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia. 

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out. 

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?” 

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-” 

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already. 

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long. 

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away. 

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out. 

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?” 

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures 

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home. 

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.” 

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely. 

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss. 

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. 

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses. 

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours. 

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt. 

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more. 

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation. 

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up. 

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips. 

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through. 

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet. 

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already. 

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head. 

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt. 

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more. 

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth. 

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about. 

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good. 

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs. 

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form. 

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down. 

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy. 

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite. 

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” 

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either. 

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth. 

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often. 

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful. 

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds. 

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base. 

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head. 

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap. 

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise. 

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full. 

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving. 

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you. 

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans. 

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear. 

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore. 

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state. 

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle. 

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with. 

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes. 

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious. 

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[help-the-horse]

TF2 Backstab Models and What They Mean for the Mercs

In my travels in the TF2 meta, I've noticed that when using an Australium or ice themed weapon, such as the Spy-cicle, each Merc has a few different models for their "frozen backstab" pose. I thought this was interesting and decided to take it upon myself to document the different models and extrapolate what that might mean for each merc as a character. Keep in mind the "canon" of TF2 and the characterization of the mercs is very much up to interpretation but I think this can give us some insight at least into what Valve thinks of each character and how they react to injury, particularly the backstab.

Let's get into it.

SCOUT

Scout with his quicker speed assumedly has a faster reaction time compared to a lot of the other mercs, so it tracks that in many of his poses he is almost completely turned around/facing back. I don't think he necessarily expects to be back stabbed but his fast reflexes makes it so that he is one of the mercs who is closer to actually catching the Spy before the stab. Clearly he isn't always fast enough if he gets stabbed though. On a side note I personally find his poses to be some of the most unnerving ones.

SOLDIER

Clearly Soldier's slow speed catches up with him when it comes to backstabs. Being one of the slower classes in the game, and one of the more burly/stocky characters, it makes sense that he would have trouble catching a Spy before a stab. In a few poses you can see that he reaches behind himself, but you never see him trying to turn his torso or head around to catch his attacker. It's also interesting to note how he reaches to his lower back, either because of how he holds his rocket launcher on his shoulder, or because of his lack of physical flexibility,

PYRO

Pyro's poses are all rather similar, so I don't find that I have much to say about them. Given what little we do know of Pyro, it's reasonable to assume that they probably don't notice Spy's through their pyro-vision very well, so it would make sense that they wouldn't be prepared for a backstab. They also don't need a particularly fast reaction time for their weapon/attack style so they don't show the same reflexes as Scout or Demo. Pyro just be silly with their pose.

DEMOMAN

Demo is very dramatic to say the least. I find it very interesting how he seems to be very close to actually grabbing the knife/Spy relative to some of the other mercs like Solly, Medic, or Pyro. This supports my personal theory that Demo plays up his drunkenness on the battle field/in general. He clearly has a good degree of flexibility as well looking at the curve of his spine, and a reasonable amount of balance shown by his repeated "one toe on the ground" style stance.

HEAVY

Unfortunately I wasn't able to get many screencaps of Heavy, but all his poses are essentially this with little variance. He is probably one of the least flexible out of all the mercs, which makes sense given his body type and how built up his shoulder/back muscles must be from carrying a 300 lbs gun around all the time every day. You can see that he probably doesn't expect a backstab and has a slower reaction time than others, which is in line with his in game movement speed.

ENGINEER

This man really just always be on his knees. I would assume that this is due to the fact that most of the time you would see an Engie crouching behind a sentry or dispenser, in game and in the character sense. It also reinforces Valve's mocking of his VERY NORMAL AND AVERAGE height. I also like to think Spy kicks his knees out from behind as he stabs. The models also tend to have effed up hands for Engie for some reason which I find very funny. Arguably his right hand tends to be the more messed up one, which is also his mechanical hand/Gunslinger. Food for thought, perhaps a mechanical malfunction/short when he dies?

MEDIC

Medic's poses are all very similar as well unfortunately. What stands out to me the most is how INCREDIBLY TALL Medic is compared to all the other mercs. You can see that he also doesn't work to turn around or even reach behind him to any large degree, which I think shows how unexpected a backstab is for Medic. He's usually busy chasing some screaming Scout or hiding behind a corner to pocket a Heavy so it would make sense he wouldn't expect a backstab as he usually has some power class with him to protect him. We stand with our Medic's though, no hate only love. Stay strong Medic army.

SNIPER

Sniper is the most interesting to examine for me, as he and Spy tend to have a rivalry in every sense, from the Spy v. Sniper update/event released by Valve way back when, to in game play, to in the comics/canon media we have of the mercs. It's clear he is the most prepared for a back stab most of the time, and arguably the closest to actually stopping Spy. I think he generally has an average reaction time if the in game movement speed is anything to go off of, but the fact he is so close to stopping the attack just shows how used to the backstab he is. He also has a higher degree of flexibility on par with Scout and Demo.

SPY

And finally, we come to the man of the hour. The tl;dr is he's a drama queen who's holier than thou attitude and cockiness causes him to not expect or prepare for another Spy's backstab, which ends up being his ultimate downfall. The long version of it is that he is a drama queen who's holier than thou attitude and cockiness causes him to not expect or prepare for another Spy's backstab, which makes him a little bitch boy who's pride gets hurt more than the actual pain of the stab. All of his poses are pretty similar, showing he has a good amount of flexibility but a piss poor reaction speed if he's able to get beat at his own game.

ANYWAY, if you've made it this far in the post thank you very much for reading it all and indulging my TF2 brain rot. I have no idea if any of this deeper reading was intended by the devs or Valve, but I think it's interesting to explore what little we get in regards to any hints about the mercs as characters and what they might be like on and off the battle field in a story sense. Would love to have more discussion in the comments and if anyone has any other niche requests for me to overanalyze TF2 game play/lore please let me know and I'm sure I will find more than expected to talk about.

Stay strong TF2 fans.

[fatuismooches]

principiis amoris.

synopsis: In other words, five times Dottore swore he hated you and the one time he realized it was the opposite.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: I wanted to try my hand at these 5+1 fics, and Dottore seemed to be the best candidate. Behold, 6k+ words of fluff. Reader and Dottore are complete menaces (and not very good people) and you also throw a book at someone.

I. blindness

Much to anyone’s surprise, Zandik was having what he would call a good day. Today was the last day of all of his especially boring and easy classes, the illegal parts he secretly ordered came in, and he would be able to stay in his dorm for a while before classes started again. A break from these all these so-called scholars would be much appreciated. He was growing rather tired of them and was greatly looking forward to the much-needed retreat of progressing his research. He could feel it already - the sweet sensation of tinkering with the new parts quickened his pace.

What he was not expecting was his door to be open, voices and rustling noises coming from inside. Immediately a frown appeared and his good feeling was lost. Quickly, he entered the room and saw an unknown figure donning the Akademiya’s robes, and an academic counselor he recognized standing in his room. Now he was glad he made sure to put his tools away. Ones that were totally not prohibited.

“What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t try to hide the loathing in his voice.

The counselor shifted in place, clearly not wanting to be here anymore due to his presence. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. In fact, Zandik could see that you were smiling.

“Ah, hello Zandik. Good to see you are doing well,” she lied through her teeth. “This here is [Name], your-”

“Your new roommate!” you chimed in. The counselor shrunk in her place even more, probably regretting all her life choices now as Zandik’s laser gaze was on her now. 

“I thought I made myself clear when I informed you that I did not want anyone in my dorm?”

“Yes, well, as per the rules of the Akademiya, every scholar should try to have a roommate for the purpose of cooperation…” Her voice became progressively smaller as Zandik continued to burn his gaze onto her, “a-and collaboration. Regardless of your thoughts, [Name] has to try to dorm with someone, and that someone happens to be you.” You nodded your head in agreement as the counselor spoke.

“So please, um, try to get along!” She quickly excused herself and scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You smiled at him yet again, sticking your hand out for a handshake, to which he only spared a glance and turned away.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m excited to live with you!”

“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed. You’d be out of here in less than a week, just like the few other roommates he had. But to think he had to spend his break with a nuisance in his room now? That irritated him to no end. Though what confused him more was your sunny disposition. Quite literally everyone in the Akademiya knew him and acted the complete opposite.

“Hehe, sure. By the way, I call the top bunk bed!”

It was from that moment he knew.

Zandik hated you.

II. relentless

Zandik had been giving you the cold shoulder since the moment you stepped into his (now yours too) dorm. You knew this would be a tough journey, but damn. At least he was good eye candy and wasn’t loud. (If you excused his eerie laughter in the middle of the night.)

On this particular night, Zandik was at his makeshift workbench tinkering with Archon knows what, as usual. Unfortunately, even though you found it to be interesting, you were unfamiliar with all of that mechanical stuff. You always would look at him while he worked, and while he would sometimes snap at you to stop staring, he never actually did anything about it. Today was one of those nights.

“You’ve certainly been at that for a while,” you commented. Zandik showed no sign of reaction.

“You don’t want anything to eat? Or drink?” you continued.

“Don’t have time,” he responded with no hesitation, far too interested in his new play toys, and also wanting to shut down this conversation immediately. But, you didn’t think these were the ones he usually used. You think he kept the deadlier ones hidden away in case you reported him or something.

“To consume something?”

“To make something right now,” he corrected.

“Well, yeah, I know. That’s why I’m going to make it for you,” you clarified, kind of surprised (but also not) that you needed to say it directly. This managed to make your roommate pause.

“So you are offering to cook for me?” he clarified your statement yet again.

“Yes?” This time he freed his hand of items completely and looked you dead in the eye.

“Explain.”

“E-Explain? Well, I mean, we’re roommates and all, habiting the same space. It only makes sense that we do things we each other once in a while.”

“So you expect a transaction.”

“A transaction…? Huh? No! This isn’t some kind of business deal or whatever. No, I do not expect anything back from you. I am doing this for you because I want to. There’s nothing more to it.” There was no response from Zandik, and he was silent as if he was trying to process what you just said, which was rather cute.

“I do not understand.”

You mentally sighed. “That’s fine, for now. I’m gonna whip something up anyway.” Before he could protest further, you disappeared into the tiny kitchen the Akademiya’s dorms provided.

You had to think of a suitable snack. He probably wouldn’t eat it if it was too cumbersome and distracting from whatever he was doing. He needed some kind of finger food… and you had just the idea. You believed that when you were a struggling Akademiya student, it was only natural to have some good recipes up your sleeve.

Samosas. Delicious bite-sized pieces of goodness. Although they would take a bit to make, you didn’t think Zandik would care. He hardly realized the difference between minutes and hours when he was in this kind of scientific state. And you were glad you stocked up the pantry with your own products because you really had no idea how Zandik lived in these conditions.

Soon enough, you had made a portion for him (and secretly snuck a few for yourself) and you had also made a piping hot cup of coffee, a student’s best friend of course. You then plated it and brought it to your roommate, setting it down in front of him wordlessly, to which he seemed surprised.

Zandik did not realize you were even still doing that. He thought you were bluffing. But now that such aromatic food was right in front of him, his stomach came to life and he noticed the dryness of his throat. With squinted eyes, he tentatively picked up one of the samosas and inspected it. (Did he think you poisoned it or something?) But then he popped one into his mouth and began to chew experimentally. His face did not betray his emotions, but your questions were answered by his next actions.

“Hmm,” he said matter-of-factly, before nomming on another samosa. You peered at him from the top bunk bed as he polished off the bowl of samosas rather quickly. Now, he was waiting for the coffee to cool.

“Sooooo, how was my cooking?” you questioned, already internally knowing the answer even if he didn’t admit it.

“It was convenient,” he admitted. Most of the time, Zandik did not cook for himself, as he found the process a waste of time when he could be doing other things. 

“I’m glad. And the taste?”

“It was fine.” Actually, it was far more than fine. The constant consumption of the easiest food to make had dulled his taste buds and made him accustomed to bland food. Though your food was quite tasty, Zandik was not about to let you get a big head now.

“Just fine? Seemed like you scarfed them down pretty quickly,” you teased.

“The quicker I eat, the quicker I am able to devote my full attention to the research,” he corrected you. You pouted but still felt pleased.

“Then I’ll make something for you every day.”

He felt on guard again at your kindness. “Why?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I already say? ‘Cause we’re roommates and all, and also soon-to-be friends. And friends usually help each other out, yeah? And also because I’m kind of worried how you eat the same thing over and over.” 

He immediately frowned at your proposal. “I am not your friend. And never will be.”

You shrugged your shoulders and moved to lie down instead, pulling the blankets over you. “Ehe, we’ll see. I have a way with words, you know!” You smiled and winked at him, to which you received a deadpan glare. “Good night, Zandik! Oh, and make sure to clean up afterward!”

“Hmph.”

Friend. He toyed with the word and idea in his head, mocking it internally. Friend… friend, as if that could ever be feasible. Of course not.

Zandik hated you.

III. possessiveness 

It had been a while since you moved in with Zandik, and he stopped treating you with disdain. Though, Zandik was Zandik, so you still got a tongue-lashing from time to time. (But you could never take him seriously anymore, which irritated him.)

Lately, though, he had begun to show you some of his research, and even begun to let you tinker with some of his stuff! Only while he was present of course, but you were elated. Though, he seemed to be enjoying this more than you somehow. You could ask one question and suddenly he’d be on a tangent. But you were just happy he was talking to you.

You had been upgraded from hated stranger to tolerable stranger to okay acquaintance in Zandik’s eyes. You had insisted on calling him your friend, to which he still did not understand, but for some reason he allowed it. Perhaps it was because it felt nice.

Actually, you were a helpful, okay acquaintance. You frequently looked over his notes for him, correcting spelling and grammar errors from when he scribbled so fast. Tidied up his bed and work space too. The best part was that you had begun to run errands for him so he didn’t need to leave the dorm himself. After these series of events, you had declared yourself his assistant without even asking him first, but he supposed that was okay. He valued usefulness. And maybe your company a bit, too. And although he enjoyed silence the most, maybe he liked how nice your voice was in the background.

Today was one of those days where he waited for you to get back from an errand. It was quick and easy, and the seller wasn’t too far away. Like always, he occupied himself with his work and awaited your return, which proved to be fruitful as usual. But after a while, something did not feel right.

Zandik could not put his finger on it. Why did he have this feeling in the back of his mind? He was quite irritated at this itch he could not reach. Perhaps you would have-

That’s right. You. You. You. Where were you? That’s when he realized that you were gone longer than you usually were. To think that his body and mind would get so accustomed to your presence. He wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or not by this feeling.

He wondered what was the holdup. But there was naught he could do except wait. And wait. And wait. Until the jiggle of the doorknob drew his attention and you stepped through the door with the items he requested. 

“Hey, Zandik,” you greeted, locking the door behind you and dropping the bag on the table. He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think that was anything strange since he never cared much for greetings. “Got your stuff,” you continued your normal routine, kicking off your shoes and shedding your sweater, expecting the silence to continue.

“What took you so long?” You almost did a double-take when he spoke.

“What?”

“What took you so long?” he repeated.

“Oh, on the way back, some students stopped me and asked if I could explain some stuff to them. I guess I did take a bit longer than usual. Why?” you questioned. Did he really notice the difference? It hadn’t even been that long, maybe ten to fifteen minutes extra that you took. And plus, it’s not like you two were doing anything together. Just sitting in silence with metal clanking as usual.

When you did not get any response, you raised your eyebrows and tip-toed your way over to him to get a glimpse of his expression. It was mostly empty if you ignored the eye twitching and the downward curve. You had to dig your fingernails into your palm to control the chuckles. 

“Could it be… did you miss little old me, Zandik?”

“Perish the thought,” Zandik immediately interrupted before you could even finish your sentence. “Your whereabouts are not my concern,” he vehemently denied.

“Mhm, alright then.”

“I simply do not see why you need to talk to those so-called scholars. They are not worth the time or energy to even look at.”

Ah, there it was. So he was jealous. You understood now.

“Well, I was just doing what a normal, nice person would do.”

“The fact that you are still living with me proves you’re not normal. As for the nice part, you don’t need to do that for anyone.”

“Oh really? So what should I do, turn a blind eye to everyone else and save the sweet words for you?” you joked.

“Yes. Were you not the one who declared yourself as my assistant? Assistants always follow their seniors,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You were completely surprised at his mini confession, that if you spoke carelessly, you knew you’d stutter. But you weren’t complaining. You ignored the heat on your face, and matched his words.

“Hmm… I would say in that case, you can’t speak to anyone either, but it’s not like you do that anyway,” you said simply, biting down on your lip to prevent laughing. Zandik immediately scowled at your statement.

“I don’t need, want, or care to speak to anyone. But since you clearly need to be around these low-tier scholars, you can get out this instant.” You couldn’t help but double over with giggles now at his defensiveness and landed on Zandik’s bed. He huffed. You loved when he acted like this.

“Ah, I’m so glad I asked to dorm with you,” you giggled with a dopey grin. Zandik paused his work, taking in what you just said.

“You… what?”

You turned to lay on your side and propped yourself up on your arm. “Hmm? Did I say something strange?” you questioned.

“You chose to live here? With me, of your own choice? I knew it was strange when the counselor chose me of all people. Surely there were others available?” Zandik was utterly baffled as he had now temporarily abandoned his tinkering to gauge your expression.

“Yes! Shall I recount the exact events for you?” Without waiting for an answer, you prattled on. “Okay so, I went to the counselor lady and she wanted me to dorm with this random guy, and I was like okay cool, but then I got this little sneak peek of the list she had and I saw your name in fancy handwriting. And then I was like, hey, that’s the smart cute morally dubious guy that I hear people talking about! So then I said, nah, give Zandik to me instead please- hey, why is your face kind of red?” 

You ended your little rambling and sat up straight, leaning into your roommate’s face. “Hey, are you embar-” Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly spun back around to face his desk, trying to block out your incessant giggling.

“Shut up,” he hissed in reply, quick to defend himself. “No one in this school would willingly live with me.” And how dare you call him that? That… c-word.

“Well,” you clutched your chest to prevent any more laughter, “That’s clearly not true anymore, because I’ve been here for quite a while! But wow, your face!” You toppled back onto his bed grinning. He swore you were brain-dead. 

Zandik hated you.

IV. like-mindedness

Zandik did not like being in public. That was something you came to realize and understand rather quickly. For the most part, you had no qualms with it. You were quite content with bantering with him in the privacy of the dorm or in the desert or forest looking for whatever specimens he wanted. There were no distractions, no other people to give you weird stares or looks.

It was another normal day for you, and you came to realize that you’d actually been living with Zandik for quite a while. You liked to think that you two were rather close now. The time had flown by quickly for you, but apparently very long for others. To say people were baffled was an understatement. 

People were shocked, fascinated, intrigued, fearful, any word you could think of, at how you managed to dorm with Zandik and still be alive, mentally and physically. Many people even applauded you for managing to live with Zandik for so long. You had people coming up to you asking for tips on how you confronted your fears so easily. The crazier ones even wanted to write a paper on your mental fortitude. (Thankfully your roommate hadn’t found out about that yet.)

Today, however, the two of you decided to stop by Puspa Café after class. It was a nice day to dine outside, and the coffee and food there was excellent. You had no complaints, especially since this was your first time doing this kind of thing with Zandik. It was going quite well, as the two of you read over your notes in silence until whispers began to penetrate the tranquility.

“Hey, look over there. Is that Zandik?”

“Oh wow, you’re right! This is my first time seeing him outside of class.”

“Really? This is my first time seeing him in general.”

“Well yeah, he only goes to class and then back to his dorm. Everyone knows he’s a freak.” Their blathering continued and you twitched your eye, unable to concentrate. You peaked at Zandik but he looked unbothered.

“We’re right in front of them and can still talk about you like that?” You were simultaneously shocked and impressed at their audacity and stupidity. Zandik simply shrugged his shoulders, his uncaring attitude shining through as he was practically immune to these kinds of scenarios now. You huffed and flipped a page in your book. Sometimes you wished you could borrow some of his ability to not care what people think.

But there was only so much you could take. And Archons above, these scholars and their incessant talking were annoying. You had no idea how Zandik could continue to read so intently with this racket. At least he was more pretty when he was quiet.

Slowly you stood up, and Zandik glanced at you, a bit confused but not too interested, still absorbed in his own book. His eyes returned to the text, but then he heard a loud thump from the side. Now more of his attention was on you, as he saw you now closed the thick book shut.

“[Name]?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. You were now retrieving some Mora, probably for the bill, and laying it on the table. “Do you have business to attend to?”

“Business? You know what, yes, yes I do,” you chuckled a bit eerily. “But it’ll only take a couple of seconds.” With that, you picked up the textbook and lifted it up and down like a weight. Finally, you positioned yourself properly and raised your arm toward the direction of the student.

You threw the fucking textbook.

It was a sight that Zandik would never forget. A heavy book that would hurt anyone’s arm from lugging it around, flew through the air, and with uncanny precision, knocked the scholar right in the face.

It was dead silence for a few seconds.

And then chaos.

Screams erupted from the other students at the table at the sight of their fallen friend. A commotion was born as people scrambled to the boy. Zandik was having a bit of trouble comprehending what just happened. Yes, he just understood that you just threw a textbook at a guy, but he did not understand at the same time. Even he knew not to harm someone in public. (Private was a different case.) And you did it with no hesitation, no logical thought process of what would happen. It was an activity far from what most scholars did.

While he was in a little stupor, you quickly pushed your papers into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Hey! Teyvat to Zandik! Don’t just sit there! We have to leave the scene!” you scolded him, taking initiative and stuffing his work into his bag as well. He wasn’t the most pleased with how you treated his precious research material but that was only a fleeting thought compared to what just occurred. You threw his bag over your shoulder as well and cursed at how heavy his damn textbook was. But what he did not expect was what you did next.

Rolling your shoulders back to prepare yourself for the weight, you then grabbed his hand and started pulling him away. 

Zandik then had no words to describe his emotions. He could only focus on the prickles that arose from all over his body at such prolonged and close contact with you. He was used to your teasing - running your hands through his hair on occasion, or leaning in close to his ear to whisper something, but this simply broke his scale. He felt as though he was moving unconsciously, feet moving in sync with yours, and he had no idea how to feel or even understand this phenomenon. 

“Hey, I know you can walk faster than that!” Your voice snapped him out of his unfamiliar sensations, and that’s when he realized what was happening. You had actually managed to drag him so far along that you were both probably halfway through the city looking like complete, bumbling fools. And you were still holding his hand, and that’s when he realized again how lovely you looked in this moment. He quickly discarded those thoughts.

“Release me this instant, [Name],” he threatened, immediately putting his vexed look back up. He could feel your warmth penetrating his whole body just from your hand.

“Sure, sure~! Let’s turn into this alley to hide,” He could tell that was a complete lie because your laugh was so loud it probably rang out all the way to Port Ormos. Zandik scoffed and bit his lip to prevent a smile.

Soon enough, you both reached a secluded part of the city, away from all the hustle and bustle and caught your breath. You slid down a wall in relief and closed your eyes while Zandik had his eyes trained on you for what you just put him through.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he raised an eyebrow at your crazy behavior. You peeked at him and put your hand on your chin, in a thinking position.

“Hmm… well, that was quite fun, was it not?!” you tried to keep a straight face but you could not help but laugh at your friend’s incredulous expression.

“You- we, we are going to get in trouble with the dean you know. And the counselors,” he said, trying to bite down the smile that kept rising when he remembered the expression on the assaulted student’s face.

“We’ll be fineeeee,” you shrugged your shoulders and stretched your letters. “Haven’t you gotten into more trouble with the head administration with your little controversial experiments? Besides, if we’re lucky, he’ll be too scared to report the incident,” you laughed, completely nonchalant about what you just did.

“Hmph. The blame is on you if anything happens,” he attempted to speak in an irritated voice, but he could not help but be amused. A bit elated, even. There were many people he wanted to see get chucked with a textbook. And do worse things too.

But a bit of the thrill came from how you did that with no hesitation. It was a… strange feeling to have someone do that for him. Actually, this whole relationship was strange. You were strange. Even he felt strange. He was honestly a straight-up asshole to you sometimes, like he was to everyone else. But that didn’t drive you off. You still did things for him. You still spoke to him. You didn’t want anything in return, not money, not knowledge, not relics, but perhaps what you did want was-

Zandik stopped that line of thoughts in its tracks, trying to ignore how his hand was all tingly from you holding it. Things were fine this way, he declared. He could not admit he was enamored with you. Nothing needed to change. He had to maintain his view of you, otherwise… 

“You know, I’m surprised I even got you to do that. Did you hit your head too?”

“Shut up.”

Zandik hated you.

(You two did get into trouble. The Akademiya assigned you an apology essay which Zandik refused to do so you had to write two separate essays for each of you. With some begging, he did your homework for you in return, and somehow managed to get the blood stain off of that textbook you had thrown. You didn’t question where he learned that.)

V. kindness

It had been years since that fateful day, the time when you first moved in with Zandik. The Akademiya was a long and arduous grind, but that was to be expected. Your friendship with Zandik was one you cherished more than most things.

To say the two of you were close was an understatement. You still remember the counselor’s expression when you told her how well the two of you were getting along, and that there was no need for you to ever switch roommates. You think she became afraid of you too after that.

Tonight was a relaxed night. Zandik and you were not doing any work, simply laying side by side on his bed. (Even though he always threw fierce words at you, you knew he liked your touch.)

In the beginning, you would never be able to tear him away from that desk, but with time comes new things. You were just happy he was getting more hours of sleep.

The two of you lied in the dark as usual, simply enjoying the cool Sumeru breeze and the muffled noises from the city. You learned to grow content with these simple moments. But tonight you felt like talking.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you met me?” You could feel his head shift to look at you, probably for asking such a dumb question.

“Yes, I do. Too well, actually.”

“What was your first impression of me?” you questioned, realizing you never actually asked him that.

“That you were quite annoying and a thorn in my side.”

Anyone else might have been hurt by these words, but you did not mind. He made it pretty obvious that was how he felt in the beginning anyway, so it was no surprise. “But what about now?”

“You’re fine.” Even in the dark, he could feel your pout and pleading eyes. “And your intelligence and helpfulness deserve to be praised, I suppose.” And then he could feel your smile grow as your face was partially on his shoulder. From then the conversation flowed through many things. That research paper you two were working on, some kind of experiment he wanted to do on you (he swore it was painless), about that one scholar who was always annoying during the lectures.

The more you spoke, the more you realized how much of your life centered around being with Zandik here. You didn’t know if you ever wanted to graduate. To ever be apart from him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. How long do you think we’ll live here?”

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. The benefits the Akademiya provides are far too good to let go of now. Speaking of that, there’s somewhere I want to visit.” 

“Oh, you mean those hidden ruins you think are connected with Khaenri’ah?” How nice it would be if you could just drape your arm over his chest.

“Yes. Though I don’t know if the Akademiya will let me make another trip back to the desert as of right now,” he pondered.

“Are you referring to how you’ve been on the Matra’s watch list for years? So they started following you everywhere?” you giggled.

“Not just me. You too, [Name],” he rolled his eyes. “At least I never threw a book at someone in public.” You pouted and playfully punched his arm.

“C’mon, that was so long ago! You can stop bringing it up!” you whined. He would never let that go, huh? The conversation died down from there, but it was a comfortable silence, which you loved. After that little banter, your eyes began to droop and you yawned. Zandik glanced at you.

“Tired?” You nodded and blearily rubbed your eyes.

“Sleep, then,” he commanded, and you had no qualms with following that. Soon enough, Zandik was the only one left awake, staring out at the open window. He had found these little resting sessions of yours good for clearing his mind. He closed his eyes too. 

Two people, on the same tiny, college-sized bed, arms brushing each other and talking nonchalantly. Totally, two good friends.

Friends. Friends, friends, friends. Long ago, the word left a distasteful feeling in his mouth, and it still did, but not for the reason he originally felt. Now, what he desired was more complicated.

Zandik hated you.

VI. endless

Zandik knew he would be expelled from the Akademiya soon, for the crimes he committed. And yet, instead of preparing for any future plans, he found himself following the directions of a note you left on his workbench. Meet me at our usual spot, 8 PM.

He was a busy man, more so in soon-to-be exile. He didn’t have time for your frivolous games. But for some reason, he found himself heading over to the cliff anyway. It was dark outside, but the stars illuminated your figure, and that was when he noticed the basket next to you as well. You noticed him and sat up eagerly.

“Hey, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come, to be honest.”

“...What is this?”

“Eh? A picnic, of course. The weather is real perfect for one.”

He was so astonished that the laugh building in his throat could not come out immediately. Surely you were aware of what he had done? Practically everyone in the Akademiya knew. You couldn’t walk for five minutes without hearing rumors floating around. Or perhaps you were that oblivious?

“Oh really?” His familiar, eerie laugh that you loved finally rang out. “Did a Ruin Guard finally toss you around well enough? Only an idiot wouldn’t know what I’ve-”

“I mean, do killers not like picnics anymore?” You replied so nonchalantly, he was actually a bit shocked. 

“You’re… you’re frustrating,” he murmured.

The way you managed to make him so tongue-tied all the time made him itch to put you in your place, to snap back somehow, but he found himself unable to lately. Actually, he struggled to do that for a while now, and he despised how you made him feel like a bumbling fool.

“Heh, perhaps some of your unhingedness rubbed off on me,” you shrugged, patting down the spot next to you. “Look, I made samosas for you again.”

The blanket was soft and comfy, and though he didn’t care much for the flavors of food, he did enjoy your cooking. You continued to polish off your meal before you spoke again.

“So, I hear you’re going to be expelled soon.”

“Correct. Though I care little for this place, it’s a shame to lose a suitable environment for my research.”

“Have you decided where you’re going? I’m sure you’re not planning to stay exiled in the desert for the rest of your life,” you hummed. “Leaving this country, perhaps?”

“That seems to be the most logical action. There is nowhere in this nation that would fund my research.”

“I see. You’re going far away from here.” Zandik nodded in reply, but the more he thought about it, the more irritated he felt. Far away from here meant far away from you.

To think he felt no remorse for murder but he felt a tingle of emotion (sadness? regret? anger?) at no longer being with you. Whatever it was, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He loathed to admit it, but he enjoyed your company. He enjoyed dragging you out of bed in the morning, and he enjoyed you dragging him to bed at night. He enjoyed your bantering, your inquisitive nature towards his work. He enjoyed being the only person you’d treat like this and having one person to himself. Zandik enjoyed you, thoroughly and fully.

“Well, keep me updated. I already got my bags packed and ready to go.” 

“What?” A quirk of yours, he realized, was being able to leave him surprised at the most unpredictable times. Although scholars must plan for every possibility, he found it difficult to prepare for yours.

“I’m coming with you, of course. You’re gonna need your number one assistant with you. Hey, why’d you stop eating? We still need to get through the Padisarah Pudding.”

“You? Accompany me?” All of a sudden, everything made perfect sense. Yes, of course! You were right, he thought, as a fit of laughter overcame him. It was a splendid idea, one that pleased him immensely. Having you with him would be a great asset for his research. No one suited the role better than you. And you, in general, were… nice. You didn’t grate on his nerves like everyone else.

“Ha! Good! Amazing, even! I shall be sure to tell you when we depart from this nation of fools.” You raised your eyebrows at his sudden enthusiasm, but witnessing Zandik’s bursts of inspiration was nothing new to you either. 

“Well, glad to see you’re so keen on it,” you chuckled. “But I have a request. Actually, it’s more like something I have to say to you before we embark on this. It’s crucial, really.”

“Oh? Do tell.” He wasn’t rich, but he had the ability to procure a wide variety of items. The Nation of Wisdom was more corrupt than one would think. But he did wonder what you would ever want. You didn’t chase after material goods like the majority of humans.

“To be frank, I like you,” you declared, looking right into his eyes. At that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent. The wind stopped blowing, the animals lied low, the grass no longer rustled. “I like you. I want to be more than just friends with you,” you stated bluntly. You felt that getting straight to the point was the best course of action with Zandik, since many things besides his research and manipulating people tended to go over his head.

“So, what do you say?”

There was no response. You attempted to build your case.

“By the way, did you think I’d go through all this trouble if I didn’t want to be with you? I didn’t dorm with you for no reason, you know.”

“...”

“For such a smart guy, you aren’t very good at this, are you? Well, I can’t be too mad. I’ve been dealing with the denseness for a few years now. You know, I’ve been making the first moves this whole time.”

“...” 

The lack of response was beginning to make you nervous. You preferred the maniacal laughter of rejection at this point. “H-hey, I’d like a reply, you know. You don’t need to accept-”

Zandik thought. And he found that the words he spoke next were genuine.

“I find you… agreeable as well.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, shoulders now relaxed. “Why, such an amazing compliment from the high and mighty Zandik has me even more lovestruck!” He wanted to be mad, he really did, but it was at this moment he understood what it meant to be mesmerized by another person. He had found himself mesmerized by ancient machines, ruins, texts, his research. But he truly found you beautiful, your giggles echoing through the night.

“I’m agreeable, yes?” You turned to face him, your body leaning in closer to his. “Am I agreeable enough to do… this?” You tentatively glided your fingers over his hand, gauging to see how far Zandik would let you go. He stiffened at the foreign contact, clearly unused to it, but let you continue.

“What about this?” You slid your hand up and down his arm, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time. He tried not to show any emotions, besides a half-hearted scowl, but you could still see the red tips of his ears. He was so cute.

You scooted closer to him and let your other hand rest on Zandik’s thigh. “I think I’m much more than agreeable in your books,” you teased, cupping his cheek. He scoffed in response but did nothing to refuse your advancement. You leaned in and connected your lips with your lover’s. It felt damn good. Zandik had no idea what he was doing, but it was endearing nonetheless. You kissed him again, and again, and he reciprocated, albeit a little awkwardly. Your heart soared as you pulled away, and placed a few final kisses on his cheeks.

“Now, how did that feel?” You already knew the answer to that, of course. You knew Zandik for a long time, and could tell when he was in a shitty mood, a bad mood, a grumpy one, an excited one, a happy one, and much more. This mood was one you haven’t seen until now, but it sure was a good one. Completely flustered was a great look on him.

“I… I cannot come to a definitive answer as of now. I would say that I need to carry out some more experiments to reach a conclusion.”

“Oh? Then I’m a willing participant for however long as you want,” you smiled, finding comfort in his soft, teal locks. 

And that’s when Zandik truly realized. You were more tolerable than the rest. You were bearable enough to want to keep you around forever. Smart enough for him to desire to hear your honeyed voice. Soft enough to want to feel your skin against his. Ah, he would never say it though, as he brushed his lips over yours once again.

Zandik loved you.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— so i pay the price of what i lost ; yes it is right that you can handle anything, but you can’t handle everything all at once

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language, long written chapter

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

Winter break felt like a blur of constant assignments, stress, and messages from your mother. You found yourself buried in work, avoiding the outside world—especially your phone, which you knew was filled only with your mom’s relentless reminders to study harder, do better, and aim higher. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s contacts had been pushed to the bottom of your recent conversations, untouched since that day in the gym.

You haven’t seen Yamaguchi or Tsukishima since that winter class you skipped to watch their game. That day feels like it happened in a different life—before the semester started to suffocate you, before your every waking moment was consumed by endless biochemistry coursework. You don’t have time to think about anything else anymore, not when every day feels like a battle to keep up with the expectations of your professors and the relentless academic pace.

Classes in the second semester are intense, perhaps even more than you expected. One of your courses, Organic Chemistry II, is particularly demanding. The subject matter dives deep into reaction mechanisms, synthesis pathways, and the stereochemistry of complex molecules. There’s also Molecular Biology, where you’re expected to learn and apply the intricate processes of DNA replication, transcription, and translation. Your third major course, Biophysical Chemistry, focuses on the thermodynamics of biological systems—another subject that stretches your mind to its limit.

It’s only the second week of your new semester in biochemistry, but it feels like you’ve been dragging yourself through months. Everything seems heavier this time—every lecture, every lab session, every assignment. The moment you open your textbooks and class notes, you can feel your brain protesting. There’s an exhaustion that hangs in the air, a feeling like you’re constantly one step behind even when you manage to complete your work on time.

Now, standing outside the lecture hall for Organic Chemistry II, you realized nothing much had changed. The same heavy textbooks, the same tight deadlines, the same competition between your classmates as they all tried to one-up each other. The new semester had brought a new intensity. You were still trying to keep up with your classmates—some of them seemed almost unnaturally gifted, answering the professors’ most complex questions with ease, while you constantly second-guessed yourself, even when you knew the answer.

Professor Saito, a man with a greying beard and an air of calm authority, strode into the room with his usual collected demeanor. His reputation preceded him—tough, no-nonsense, and known for pushing his students to think critically. Today was no different. He picked up a piece of chalk and began scribbling a chemical equation across the board.

Without glancing back, he posed his first question to the room. “Can anyone explain the significance of this reaction in the context of anaerobic respiration in yeast?”

The classroom, filled with second-year students, was eerily silent. Your eyes traced the chemical formula on the board—glucose breaking down into ethanol and carbon dioxide. The answer floated on the surface of your mind, but your heart pounded in your chest as self-doubt crept in. You scanned the room, hoping that one of the top students would break the silence and offer the answer instead. But they remained still, unfazed, as if this question was beneath them.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the quiet hanging over you. It was a simple question, one you knew the answer to, but something held you back. You hated this feeling—knowing, yet hesitating, paralyzed by the fear of saying something wrong. The silence stretched on, and finally, despite the knots of anxiety in your stomach, you slowly raised your hand.

Professor Saito turned to face you, his gaze resting on you with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Your voice wavered as you spoke. “It’s… the fermentation of glucose into ethanol and carbon dioxide,” you said quietly, swallowing back the stammer in your throat. “Yeast uses this anaerobic process to generate energy in the form of ATP when oxygen isn’t available.”

Professor Saito nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. “Correct. And why is this process significant in industrial applications?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s used in brewing to produce alcohol and in baking for the carbon dioxide that helps dough rise.”

He considered your answer for a moment before nodding again. “Yes. Good. Remember, however, that the ATP yield here is significantly lower than in aerobic respiration. That’s the key difference.”

Relief washed over you, and you allowed yourself to relax—just a little. But before you could even savor that small victory, another voice broke the quiet.

“Professor, could you explain the exact mechanism for the stereoselective alkylation of an enolate in asymmetric synthesis?” The voice belonged to Renji, one of the top students in the class. His question was sharp and cutting, a deliberate challenge. “And maybe elaborate on the difference between kinetic and thermodynamic control in that context?”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, punctuated by a few suppressed giggles. You stiffened in your seat. The question was far beyond the scope of what you’d covered in class, meant to impress—or worse, embarrass—the professor. Renji’s tone dripped with arrogance, and the way he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, told you he already knew the answer.

Professor Saito regarded him for a moment, his gaze steady. He began to respond calmly, “In asymmetric synthesis, the stereoselectivity of the alkylation depends on—”

Before he could finish, another voice interrupted. “What about stereoelectronic effects when using Evans' oxazolidinone in highly hindered substrates?” Yumi, another top-tier student, chimed in with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She leaned forward slightly, her question laden with the same smug intent—to derail the lesson, to show off her own knowledge.

The air in the room became stifling. You could feel it—the discomfort rippling through the other students, the growing tension as Renji and Yumi sought to outwit the professor rather than learn from him. They weren’t asking to deepen their understanding. No, they were playing a different game, one of one-upmanship and arrogance.

Your stomach twisted with unease as you watched the scene unfold. Professor Saito, usually unflappable, seemed to falter for just a moment. You caught a glimpse of weariness in his eyes as he straightened up, preparing to answer yet another convoluted question. He had always been patient with his students, no matter how difficult the questions, but there was something in the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly that made your heart ache for him.

You glanced around the room. Some students were fidgeting uncomfortably, others quietly whispering to their neighbors. The whole room had been hijacked by these few who cared more about showing off than learning, and the rest of you were left feeling small, inconsequential. You clenched your fists under the desk, wishing you could say something, do something to stop it, but the words stayed lodged in your throat. What could you say? What could you do?

Professor Saito began explaining the stereoelectronic effects, his voice steady, but you could sense his weariness growing. The air felt oppressive, like the weight of these students’ arrogance had smothered any genuine learning atmosphere. You shifted in your seat, feeling anxiety gnawing at your insides, hating the smug smiles that played on Renji and Yumi’s lips.

Before you could think further, you raised your hand signaling to interrupt the class. Professor Saito caught your motion and stop his explanation. “I’m sorry, Professor, may i speak?” Your voice came out a little shaky but louder than you expected, you can’t stop yourself right now. Every eyes are on you when the professor nodded. You land your gaze to Yumi—her smug faltered as she turned toward your seat. “I don’t see any stereoselective alkylation of enolates in asymmetric synthesis in our syllabus for this entire semester. So, if you’re going to interrupt the class with questions, at least stick to the topic we’re actually supposed to be learning.”

And now you turned to Renji’s seat, his face hardening as the room went deathly quiet. You could feel the eyes of the other students on you, and though your heart pounded in your ears, you pressed on. “And if you’re feeling that generously smart, maybe you should come up there and be the professor yourself. But what do you actually get from trying to make others—let alone the professor—feel small by throwing out questions just to outsmart them?”

Yumi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a look of shock. Renji shifted in his seat, his face hardening, but he remained silent. You could feel the tension swirling in the room, but it wasn’t directed at you anymore—it was directed at the arrogance that had poisoned the air.

Professor Saito stood there for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat, and the room snapped back to attention.

The room goes quiet, tension crackling in the air. You don’t usually speak up like this, but something about the arrogance in the room pushed you past your breaking point. The student sneers at you, but you don’t flinch. You’ve had enough of people trying to make others feel small just to inflate their own egos.

Professor Saito gives you a small nod of appreciation before continuing his lecture, the class quiet now except for the sound of his chalk against the board.

That evening, you’re back at your desk, struggling to finish another assignment. The words blur together on the screen, and despite your best efforts, you keep having to re-read the same paragraph over and over. You’re exhausted. There’s no other word for it. Even though you’ve tried to catch up on sleep, it never feels like enough. And there’s always another deadline looming, another mountain of work to climb.

Your phone buzzes next to you, but you don’t pick it up. It’s probably your mom again, asking why you haven’t called or berating you for not keeping up with her expectations. You’ve been avoiding her texts and calls lately because you can’t deal with the added pressure. She doesn’t understand how hard this is, how much you’re trying to juggle. Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t care. Either way, you don’t have the energy to explain yourself to her right now.

By the time you finish the assignment and hit submit, it’s nearly 2 AM. You slump back in your chair, staring at the ceiling. Every muscle in your body aches, and there’s a tightness in your chest that hasn’t gone away for days. You feel like you’re sinking deeper into a hole you can’t climb out of.

The thought of opening your phone again fills you with dread, but you do it anyway, more out of habit than anything else. When you do, you see an email from Professor Saito.

Subject: Checking In

I hope this message finds you well. I noticed that you submitted your most recent assignment late last night. While I am aware of the pressures you and many other students are under, I wanted to reach out personally.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed how diligently you’ve participated in my class. I’ve seen how you’ve quietly answered questions, even when you seemed uncertain of yourself. I also noticed how you stepped in during that difficult class discussion the other day and helped refocus the conversation. You have a sharp mind, and I hope you know that.

That said, I am concerned about you. I can tell that you’re pushing yourself hard, and while I appreciate your effort, I also want to remind you that your well-being comes first. I know what it’s like to feel the weight of academic pressure, and I want to encourage you to take care of yourself, too.

If you ever feel overwhelmed or need to talk, please know that my office door is always open to you. You are a valued member of my class, and I believe in your potential.

Take care of yourself, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.

Warm regards, Professor Saito

As you read the email, you feel a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words until now. For so long, you’ve felt like you were just going through the motions, never sure if you were really doing anything right. But here, someone was telling you that you mattered—that your efforts weren’t invisible.

You close the email and stare at the screen for a long moment. Then, without thinking, you bury your face in your hands. The tears come quickly, a mix of exhaustion, relief, and gratitude. You hadn’t expected this—this kindness, this small bit of recognition in a sea of doubt.

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr

sorry for posting this late, i’ve been super busy with karate practice all weekend—i’ve got a belt test coming up soon, so the training’s been extra intense. i’m exhausted, and my legs hurt so bad i can barely walk, but gotta stay strong and push through! 😣

[astroyongie]

Why Am I This Way - Psychology Answers

Note: Another one <3 we are almost done with the How Am I section !!

“How Am I” Section

“Am I Really A Good Person?”

What happens in the unconscious brain: 

To start off, it's important that we understand that being wrong and right are social constructs and they will depend on your cultural background, on you ethnic and the way you were born and social class.

Now these feelings of being a good person, of caring from the social norms and looks come from childhood where the family plays an essential role on how we want to be cared for and loved.

In a dysfunctional family they usually have a closed system. For any interest in these topics you can always check the works that are based on little information and the resources are shared between the family members (communication isn't used often). In this cases (these families) communication tend to be rare and the rules of the family are usually strict and not just, working in the favor of the parent authority 

In contrary, in a functional family, the system us open and the information and the ressources shred is shared through communication between the family 

Basically in dysfunctional families the rules are not said. They learn in silence. In function, the parent actually verbalizes the good and the wrong.

back on the dysfunctional family, the communication is so fragile and limited that the little things that are said are usually harsh, violent and painful to the child (for example the child is make a mistake, the parent will proceed with accusatory screaming or physical abuse)

Because of this, the children who got raised in such an environment learn to mold themselves to reach security. They are always weary of their environment and they tend to read people to accommodate and adapt their behaviors. 

Basically they learn to recognize a bad action and a good acio based on their parents' punishments and because of that they tend to always please others or provoke a better reaction in their counterpart to avoid the violence.

These children (from dysfunctional families) can develop four types of communication patterns when evolving with other people. Those are: 

“Appeased” : they are people pleasers and they will put a lot of effort in for that to happen during arguments. To be a good person they use extreme generosity by neglecting themselves and their needs (because their parents have neglected them so much so why shouldn't they do the same?)

“Accuser”: A mirroying of narcissistic parenting/ defensive category. People like that will try to manipulate the situation and turn the tables to avoid being on the receiving pain end. They try to be a good person by using reverse psychology 

“Congruent”: the person is aware of their surroundings, they are aware of signals that can be potentially triggering. These types of people when arguments happen tend to use verbal and non verbal communication at the same type to smooth the situation and avoid being hit. more of a “fight” response to avoid panic and be a good person.

“Evasive”: they are usually people that often retreat in arguments. They will keep themselves shut because they have learnt that speaking will bring them more pain so they usually try to keep themselves shut and repress emotions in order to be the good person. some of them can also use humor as a mechanism 

Usually people that are always questioning their worth as a good people come mostly from a dysfunctional family weather neglect and violence were the main resource and where the people had to learn strategies to survive in that environment

if you are interested in more of these topics you can check the works of Virginia Satir and Karen Horney

So what can we do?

We cannot allow the limited perceptions of others define us

You need to understand that you have lost touch with your inner self in order to avoid conflict. the important here is to learn that arguments and conflicts are often necessary to solve the issues and they are important to communicate feelings and that one should not stop putting their fears first and take time to open up

now this is hard but with therapy and the right relationship, this gets easier and those behavioral patterns can be changed

There’s also the need to stop blaming yourself for everything and prioritize your happiness. 

Learn to say no, learn to stand for yourself and believe that you are worth more than what the dysfunctional family provided. you are worth love

and no, you're not a bad person you are just hurt

Now, you know where to work to become a better version of yourself 

[yappacadaver]

All my notes from the Q+A, organized by topic

Going as in depth here as my notes allow, was doing this at work so I may have missed some things. This will be long. but here’s the gist of it below 👇

Companions

Switch from 4 person squad to 3 person squad

For the sake of combat gameplay, 3 seemed to be the right fit

Was described as more “immersive” and “intimate”

The team wanted to “spotlight” these characters and give them more presence

Romances and relationships

All seven companions will be romanceable by any Rook

All are pansexual, none are asexual

Companions will romance each other if Rook doesn’t

Confirmed Harding/Taash as a possible companion romance

Companions may “temporarily leave” based on Rook’s decisions but will still “always fight for Thedas” as “this is the greatest threat we’ve seen”

Heavily teased permadeath

When asked abt the possibility of a Manfred romance: “not THAT skeleton, but not NO skeletons”

Misc Companion/Npc info

Inky will be coming back, as confirmed before

Devs excited for the “authenticity” of our new companions, and the fact that they “feel like dear friends”

Companions’ looks will be somewhat customizable, like in DA2 where their fit could change depending on story beats, but with a wider range of choices

These will be the “deepest companion arcs we’ve ever done”

Combat

Mechanics

The combat will be “quite tactical” with more opportunities for strategy in higher difficulty settings

A “robust difficulty system”

Tactical mode will not be overhead, but will be a targeting system as shown in the demo

Tactical mode will be used in and out of combat

Emphasis on synergies and combos

Companions will be controlled via issuing “commands”

Rook’s death/downed status will cause a save to reload unless one of your companions has learned the revive spell

Healing magic is coming back

Class specifics

Some specializations for mages were mentioned including Necromancy, “Combat Mage” which promised more close quarters fighting, and “something more elemental”

Dual wielding is coming back but is once again for rogues only, not warriors

Warriors will have a choice of ‘sword and board’ or two-handed

Cone of Cold and Fireball are getting revamped versions, namely Frost Nova and Meteor

Character creation

Appearance

Everyone who spoke about the character creator was very excited to mention how robust it is

Extra attention paid to hair styles and physics

“Magnificent” dwarf beards

More tattoo variations for different cultures

Body sliders and a wide range of skin tones

The character creator will be shown off in more depth in the future before launch (👀)

Roleplaying and story

Rook will be from one of six factions, that will combine with a "lineage" to provide context for our character

There will be no playable origins, but we will be given opportunities to define the character through play

This includes defining emotional reactions to the mentioned events of Rook's background and lineage

Rook can be nonbinary, with He/She/They pronoun options

Crafting will, while revamped, make a return. You will be able to "improve and customize" your character's look

Somehow, they were not able to reveal more about crafting because it gets into spoiler territory ("a mysterious entity helps you")

The Keep will not be coming back, instead you will be able to define your choices from previous games through the character creator in a "Last time on Dragon Age" type of recap

Gameplay

Locations

The game begins in Minrathous, as confirmed by the gameplay teaser, but doesn't stay there

Rook will be visiting plenty of new locations previously unseen in gameplay such as Arlathan forest (where there will apparently be many "fade touched" enemies)

Kal Sharok was mentioned, with no confirmation that we would actively go there in-game, but they promised to "show what they can" of this location

We will have a hub (like skyhold/haven) called The Lighthouse

While war table missions won't be making a comeback, the lighthouse will have it's own gameplay functions

Locations will change based on player actions

More brand new locations will be "drip-fed" to us in references, like Tevinter was in dao

No more mounts, as locations are trimmed down and more linear we will not need them

Dialogue

Tone/Emotion/Choice wheels are coming back

Emphasis on making clear what Rook will be saying/choosing (hopefully no more mishaps a la "glass him")

Wanted "choices to be explicitly clear, consequences less so"

Dev notes

What everyone on the team is excited for

Character creator got huge shoutout

Companions were also hyped (story arcs feel deep and authentic, characters react to you in a meaningful way)

Art team received a big shoutout as well, with this being their "best attempt yet" at visual storytelling (not just codex entries and conversations)

Veilguard is meant to combine "familiarity and novelty" with the team saying it should feel like coming home to longtime fans, and also be something fresh for new players

Team Promises

A focus on delivering a complete single-player experience (no microtransactions, no subscription, no live service)

More VA information and teasers in the future pre-launch

More information on pre-orders soon

Side quests will be "handcrafted" and "support the narrative" ie no more collecting shards, no more getting locations locked behind power mechanics

Accessibility features were glossed over, but there was some talk of saving this info for launch (???)

Random bits

We will have many opportunities to hug and pet Assan the griffon

Elves went bald after living a millennium, this is why solas is an egg

The inquisitor will be heavily tied to solas' story and will appear in the flesh

The decision of who was left behind in the fade will not be important to Veilguard, but was heavily implied to be relevant in the future (not in this game but...)

[dartagnantt]

Martial Archetype: Knight of the Fallen Oak | The trip spam fighter returns!

PDFs of this and more can be found over on at my Patreon here!

This was a patron request (hint hint, high tier patrons can just straight up ask me to make stuff) and I felt like it just so happened to fit this month's theme of inexorable, since this was inspired by 3e and pf1e trip builds where you make trip attacks and then keep making them as they try to get up because getting up provoked opportunity attacks back then in addition to eating up all your movement.

Tripping Hazard

With how 5e combat works, this wouldn't really be a feature if you tripped in place of an attack, sine you can do that anyway. Though it being a save is a difference. But this is how wolf bite attacks work, for instance. Why call out halberds specifically? Because tripping was their thing. In fact, they weren't even reach weapons or mechanically identical to glaives.

And Stay Down

This feature exists explicitly to replicate the old AoOs, and to lean in on a subclass that benefits on tripping

Opportunist

There exists a feat in pathfinder that gives you a number of reactions equal to your Dex mod, which is a bit much, as people noted the last time I gave a fighter this feature, but I felt like more opportunity attacks would benefit the previous feature.

Not So Fast!

Gave a bit of the sentinel feat, which is a popular feat for control builds especially when paired with the polearm master feat, which I also considered adding, but since the only reach weapon this specifically benefits is the halberd, having it be within 5 feet was less useful out of your turn.

Kick Them While They're Down

And because this subclass felt like being a dick, this one seemed appropriate to be mean.

And now to plug my stuff. I release homebrews weekly over on my Patreon. Anyone who pledges $1 or more per post don't have to wait a month to see them, and also help fund my being alive habit.

At the moment, they have exclusive access to the following:

Words of Power

Maelstrom Hammer

Sealing Rituals

Otherworldly Patron: The Bound Demon

I also have three classes, and a splatbook over on DriveThrueRPG to check out:

The Rift Binder. A class specialising in summoning monsters and controlling the battlefield.

The Witch Knight. A class that combines swords and sorcery in the most literal way.

The Werebeast. A class that turns you into a half beast to destroy your foes.

d'Artagnan's Adventurer Almanac. A compendium of races, subclasses, feats, spells, monsters and more!

[pointpilot]

Nagito's Past Time

summary: Nagito takes up painting as a hobby, Hajime wonders why. Takes place in my college au. Also a little angsty. ....

NOTE: HERES THE FIC! it was going to continue but i felt as if it was lengthy enough so enjooooy...you don't need to know a lot about my college au to get the story but if you're curious shoot me an ask ;3 ~~~

More often than not Nagito would slip away whenever it came to the proposition of a get together. Waving his pale, muted hands in a motion asking for forgiveness, letting out a timid smile, he’d come up with some coincidence that seemingly worked in his favor.  Hajime picked up on this pattern the more he saw it. Obviously Nagito is a weird dude, everyone knew that. Even then this was too weird for him. 

During class, Hajime impatiently tapped his pencil on his desk so hard he’d break it. Didn’t take long at all for someone to ask him to stop, snapping out his thoughts on what Nagito could be doing. Although the Reserve Course building was farther from the main building on campus, he didn’t see Nagito at all during his usual walks around campus. 

Damn it Nagito. What’s up now?

Waiting for his final class to end was grueling. Thankfully he wouldn’t have to endure the pain anymore as class finally ended. Hurriedly, he gathered his belongings and rushed to the door. Just then a blurb of yellow swished in front of him.

Natsumi stretched her arms out in front of Hajime’s barrier between him and his escape. 

“Woah there, what’s the rush for?”

She had a smirk proudly displayed on her face.

“It’s really none of your business.” Hajime replied flatly. “Could you move please? I’ve kinda got somewhere to be.” Hajime attempted to shuffle around the young woman, but failed every time. He wasn’t sure what he expected from someone belonging to a Yakuza family when it came to reaction time.

“I think it is my business, smartass. The whole class you’ve been all fidgety. Even if I don’t like you much, you're still Fuyuhiko’s friend.” Hajime slumped his shoulders. “We look out. So tell me, what’s going on?” 

“Right…Well, Nagito’s been disappearing way too often. I’m just worried for his well being.” Hajime seemed to have a staring contest with the hardwood floor before hearing a snicker. 

“You’re a loyal dude, y'know? I don’t feel too comfortable checking up on someone as secretive as him. Maybe he’s up to something.” Hajime had more questions than before. Because he’s a weird dude, does that mean he’s hiding something malicious? 

Natsumi moved aside. “Goodluck with that, but be careful!” She laughed once more, walking back to her belongings at her desk. 

Even something as slight as the crunching of leaves beneath his sneakers, even the ambiance of Towa City made Hajime rethink his choice as he walked up the dorms. Reaching Nagito’s dorm Hajime slowly knocked. Reaching feverishly he knocked on the door impatiently after a few seconds.

With some mechanical noises of the door, it had unlocked.

“Hajime?” His pale green eye was only visible through the door, then fully opening it. “Ah I’m so glad you’ve come to see me!” Nagito smiled ever so warmly, it almost made Hajime sick. He looks the best he’s ever been. Maybe Nagito is just an introvert, and he feels more comfortable by himself? He shouldn’t have meddled at all, he thought. 

“Uh, yeah…How come you didn’t show up today? I didn’t see you on campus.” Hajime had a vice grip on his schoolbag, still in his uniform and all. 

“Come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.” Nagito promised pleasantly. 

Oh well. Hajime did this to himself. Why not? 

Upon opening the door, Hajime is greeted with an old regular looking dorm,  with a burgundy and dreary coloration.  Though, what he saw next was not too regular.

Turning a corner, Hajime is further greeted with a full on mini artist studio in Nagito’s room. An easel with fresh blotches of paint, soon to turn into a concise picture, is where Hajime focused the most. Above that was a wall that had about two or three paintings hung.

“Here’s my getaway.” He refreshingly sighed.

Hajime could barely pick his jaw up from the ground. “This is where you run off to?” He exclaimed. Nagito had a flat expression on his face as his eyes looked away. “It’s just pictures…I don’t get it. Cant you do this any other time?”

“Not at all.” Nagito gave an expression of I knew this would happen, like a sense of predictability. 

Hajime sat on the bed, brushing away some paint brushes. This is stupid. That’s like running away to play video games when people want to legitimately hang out with you. Well, okay. Chiaki does that but it’s different because she lets people know ahead of time.

“I’ll try to make it brief.” Nagito sifted around a shelf filled with paintings and sketchbooks.

“Luck is essentially crippling to me. Unlike the greatness of Makoto’s, mine is half and half.” Hajime watched the lanky young man pull out numerous paintings and sat them on the bed. “If anything amazingly “lucky” happens to me, my luck gets flipped on its head like a coin. It comes back worse. Then the cycle repeats.” 

Hajime could only hold his school bag on his lap tighter. “I see…What’s this have to do with painting? I mean, in high school you showed no interest in art.”

“Painting is the only activity I’ve found that doesn’t harm anyone in any way. I’m alone, occupied, and innocent people are safe from my harm.” Nagito then held up a painting of peaceful scenery, and distorted self portraits of himself towards his friend.

“I discovered it some time ago, but now realize how great it is for my friends' safety.” He softly sat them down on his desk as he turned away to his window. “The only reason I didn’t show up at school today was because I was feeling particularly unlucky today.” He bitterly chuckled. 

Akin to witnessing a wounded animal, the urge to rush towards Nagito and sweep him into an embrace clung to him. Hajime felt his stomach pull and twist itself into knots. 

“How come…” Hajime shifted on the bed uncomfortably. “...how come you didn’t tell anyone? Or even me?” 

“No need to burden you with such information. Besides, wasting your precious brain power on a nobody like myself is only a waste of time.” Nagito could only stare through his room’s window. Hajime couldn’t tell how his friend felt, his back turned and all. 

“You’ve really gotta stop with all this nonsense.” Hajime’s worried expression soon turned into a slight frown of disappointment, slightly wrinkling his face. Nagito remained motionless.

“I mean, I don’t know the full extent of your luck, but you would have benefited from letting any of your friends know. Just getting your emotions out helps.” Hajime rose from the bed to then put his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I’m glad you found a loophole for your luck but…I-Hmr, We miss you.”

With a slow turn, Nagito gently embraced the other man, with Nagito’s arms snug around his neck. 

“Forgive me Hajime…This is the only way to keep the people I hold close to me safe.” Nagito bitterly sighed into Hajime’s shoulder. “My own personal hell is just unfixable. You better leave before my luck gets you too.” Hajime grunted as he bit his lip in somber frustration. He can’t just leave. This is his friend, his best friend even. Although Nagito gets on his nerves more often than not, there’s something about him that makes him worth protecting. 

The paintings on the walls contorted and deformed around Hajime, it nearly made him sick. At the end of the day he had to respect his friends wishes, didn't he? 

“No.”

Hajime clutched Nagito’s body deeply, Nagito felt as if he’d crumble underneath him. “If I died right now, it wouldn’t even matter to me.” 

Did I really say that!? Hajime pulled himself away, stammering out incomprehensibles. “What I mean is, I won’t let your stupid luck ruin what we have.” He straightened himself, the awkwardness being thrown over his shoulder, “Look, has anything terrible happened to me because of your luck?” 

Nagito thought, then slowly opened his mouth. Hajime cut him off with an “Exactly.” 

Frankly, Hajime felt nervous. This is the most brave he's ever been when it came to expressing feelings. Feelings he didn’t even know he had. 

“So, come on, let’s get out of here, this dorm is getting me all bummed out…” Hajime grabbed his hand to usher him out the bedroom door. 

“Do you have to grab my hand?” Nagito turned to Hajime with a know-it-all smirk. 

The man glared back and forth between their entangled fingers. Hajime felt Nagito tighten his grip, causing him to look away, letting out a flustered but strained shut up!

[meowrinz]

> not so studious • gf!chou tzuyu x gn!reader

your thoughtful girlfriend makes a boring class a lot less sufferable.

tags :: fluff, established relationship, high school au, jisun is a real one, proofread, tzuyu is a cutie patootie, im bad at tagging, mrs na L

cast :: y/n, tzuyu, jisun

wc :: 500 +

you sat in class, twiddling your thumbs slowly. it was a boring subject, history. not a fraction of your attention was on the chalk board or teacher, you figured you can just look up the answers when you get home. you'd whip your phone out or talk to seatmates but your teacher, mrs. na, would immediately confiscate your device / shut down any conversation, even when the lesson is over. sometimes you wonder why she even teaches.

while stuck in your thoughts, you feel a tap on your left shoulder. you threw your head around to see your classmate, jisun, handing you a sticky note. you nodded at her as thanks, and you read the light pink note. it had ' are you paying attention ? ' written in dark blue pen, and you raised a brow. but with some quick thinking, you realized who wrote this note.

with another whip of the head, you see your girlfriend, tzuyu, staring at you, head in her hands. her boba eyes blinked slowly, waiting for a reaction. you shook your head, signaling no, i'm not paying attention, making her sigh. you giggled once she started writing fast on the sticky notepad, and you turned back around, anticipating the next note you'll recieve.

it didn't take long at all for the next to be delivered, jisun tapping you once more. with another "thank you" nod, you read the note.

' i can give u hw answers later if u want ? ' topped off with a heart, you smiled subtly. she's so sweet, you turned around and nodded, and she gave you a thumbs up. you decided to take out a notepad of your own, a yellow one rather than pink, and you started scribbling with your mechanical pencil.

' u r a lifesaver ty ily tzu ' and below it u drew a kissy face, making you giggle at yourself. mrs. na gave you a side eye, but quickly went back to writing on the board, the screeching of the chalk making you feel reasonably annoyed. you gave this note to jisun, and she smirked when she saw it's contents.

your message made it to tzuyu and you saw her dimples form and a blush creep up onto her soft cheeks. her dimples were your favorite, and you wished you could get up in the middle of the lecture and poke them while complimenting you in that baby voice she hates so much, "i'm not a baby, im literally older than you babe."

it felt like heaven when that sweet, sweet dismissal bell rang, causing students to run out of class like their lives depended on it. and your first priority was to turn around to jisun, "sorry for making you our messenger," she smiled lightly, "don't worry about it."

tzuyu came up behind you with a "boo!" which genuinely made you flinch, "you think you're real funny, huh?"

"yeah i do." she smirks, which you reciprocated. and at this point, you're the only ones in the class besides from mrs. na, which you hadn't even noticed.

"ladies. hurry up, i have a meeting." she says, tapping her foot. you and tzuyu giggle and jog out of the classroom, hand in hand.

a/n :: FIRST WORK IN A WHILE!! its simple but its cute. enjoy

©️ meowrinz

[bcbdrums]

Persuasion

A Soul Eater fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: Monthly OTP prompt fills from this list for Spirit and Stein, because I cannot stop writing about them. I'm happy to hear recommendations each month for which prompt to write next. This month's chosen prompt: 1. First Kiss Shamelessly inspired by the fanfic "Feeling Needed" by NothingSoDivine. (@asymmetryestablished) Wrote this all in one evening while half asleep, straight through, no edits or even proofread (yikes oh well). And placeholder title is...a placeholder, if you have a better one, give it to me! And it was still January in my timezone, this still counts! Enjoy some academy babies.

Persuasion

Persuasion

Stein straightened from his lean against the wall at the corner of the courtyard when he realized he'd been crossing his arms. Spying on his weapon was bad enough without making it too obvious that he disapproved of his activities when the older teen would inevitably wander his way.

Spirit was currently occupied with another weapon from their class, nearer to Stein's age if he was remembering correctly. Her hair was blonde and caught the sun in the way that one couldn't help but look, and Stein had to admit that its radiance even outshone the heartblood red of Spirit's. Her eyelashes were dark like her leather jacket and mini-skirt, and the red of her lips matched the soft, low-cut shirt she wore that was just visible through the open front of the jacket.

Spirit was clearly enthralled by her appearance, but the only thing Stein found truly of note was the cigarette that dangled precariously from the girl's lips as she laughed at whatever Spirit was saying. Stein had watched her skill three times at keeping the small stick in its proper place when she flashed her teeth, and he was starting to wonder if it had anti-gravitational properties.

Spirit abruptly straightened, and Stein unthinkingly did the same, the older teen's posture putting him on alert. Some form of goodbye was about to take place, and then Stein would have his weapon back until the next time a member of the curvier sex caught his eye. Which was more and more frequent as of late.

But then the girl did something that caused Stein to startle forward a step, his eyes widening on the pair. She took a long drag from her cigarette, and then held it away from her as she set her other hand on Spirit's shoulder and rose up on her toes. Spirit's fingers hovered near her waist when her mouth found his, and Stein watched the girl's lips part, surround Spirit's, and his eyes go wide before closing in reaction to whatever appealed about the physicality of the moment.

But it was more than a kiss, as Stein watched the girl finally pull away with a smirk. Spirit blinked, looking surprised, and then slowly blew the smoke out from between his lips, watching it curl upward and away. Stein was also blinking repeatedly, having never conceived of an exchange like that.

He was still processing the mechanics of it when Spirit waved goodbye to his date, the cigarette now between his fingers as she turned to cross the courtyard toward the girls' dormitories. The redhead turned a moment later to head in the path that would lead back to the nicer student apartments. Stein was still too stunned by what he had seen to move to either depart or make greeting, simply watching the weapon approach wearing an expression that was something between dreamy and utterly stunned.

"Oh! Stein!" Spirit exclaimed when he practically bumped into the meister. "What are... Were you watching me?"

"Yes," Stein said simply as he moved to stand at his weapon's side and match his pace.

Spirit sighed shakily. "That's creepy, you know. Most people would be really put off by that."

"I know. So what was this one's name?"

A huff was Spirit's initial response, and then a brightening of his eyes as he frowned down in the meister's direction. Stein's smirk didn't reach his lips, but he knew Spirit could see it in his eyes.

"I know her name! It's..."

Stein did smile then as Spirit floundered, mumbling pieces of words and names to himself as his brow twisted in confusion. Ever since the first time the red-haired weapon had come home and been unable to recall the name of his date, Stein had teased him on the topic.

"Kelly!" Spirit suddenly exclaimed in triumph, and then he brought the gifted cigarette to his lips as he grinned.

"So you smoke now?" Stein asked, noting the slight grimace on the taller teen's face as he experimented with an inhale.

"Trying it out. She gave me the rest of her pack."

Stein was curious too, but less about the cigarettes than what he had witnessed in farewell between the two hormone-driven weapons. His heart pounded as his mind raced ahead to the potential conclusion of what he suddenly realized he wanted, but had absolutely no agency to achieve.

"That looked complicated," he ventured as they walked.

"Hmm?"

Stein watched as Spirit blew the smoke out slowly, his brow pinching slightly as he assessed the experience.

"The way she gave you all that smoke."

"Oh," Spirit said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he stared straight ahead. "Yeah."

"How did you know to open your mouth? Did she blow the smoke in?"

"Uh, well...kinda... You're supposed to open your mouth a bit when kissing," Spirit answered, beginning to look uncomfortable. His stride lengthened and Stein kept pace, having already anticipated his partner's nerves.

"I don't understand how any of it could be pleasurable."

Spirit was looking a bit more perplexed as their steps took them toward their apartment. The sun had begun to set, and its rays shining off of Spirit's hair gave the red locks a vibrant, golden hue. Stein felt an urgency about what he was after as he watched the cigarette burn down below halfway, but he knew he was just as likely to frustrate and anger the weapon by his persistent questioning. But as he didn't think he would ever have it within him to voice the words 'kiss me,' his chosen method would have to suffice.

"Doesn't it trigger the gag reflex to have something put in your mouth?"

Spirit's brow furrowed. They had just reached the entry of the apartment complex, and the weapon had pushed through the first set of double-doors into the security vestibule.

"And doesn't the smoke burn?" Stein continued, trying to keep any cynicism out of his tone. He knew that as soon as the weapon had an escape into his bedroom, he'd have lost his chance. But it was probably a futile effort to begin with. There wasn't any type of psychology Stein could use to make his weapon understand his desire without giving away too much, and he was certain beyond a doubt that Spirit Albarn had never entertained the idea of kissing a boy.

The weapon had been repeatedly silent in response, and Stein's mind was racing for another leading question so anxiously that he hadn't noticed Spirit had stopped walking until the redhead turned to face him. Stein's thoughts slowed at the look on his weapon's face, regarding him with nervous resignation.

"You want to try it, don't you."

Stein processed Spirit's tone before the actual words, his voice low and the words breathy as he seemed to sigh them out. Stein hadn't anticipated success, and blood was suddenly hammering in his ears as the teal of the weapon's eyes remained fixed on his, awaiting a response.

A curt nod was the most Stein could manage as he attempted to swallow the lump that was suddenly in his throat. Spirit's brow rose in curiosity, and Stein hoped that whatever was written on his face was less than the panic that had suddenly swept his entire being.

Spirit sighed again. "I'd say find someone else for your experiments, but...I know how that would turn out."

Spirit glanced from left to right through the glass doors, and then lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled long and slow.

Stein suddenly realized that this was no longer a barely-formed idea in his mind, but it was actually happening. Protests and questions rushed across his brain half-formed, none able to be spoken as the words wouldn't come together. He wanted to tell Spirit to wait, to ask how to begin. But every thought fled when the weapon's fingers rested feather-light on his cheek, his pinky finger under Stein's jaw and pulling slightly to tilt his face upward.

Spirit took a step closer, and then leaned down. Stein was certain his eyes were wide with the fright he suddenly felt as they darted between Spirit's half-lidded teal ones and the approach of lips. But the weapon had committed to the action, and in the moment Stein resolved he couldn't back down, Spirit's mouth met his.

The touch was hot like fire, and soft like nothing Stein had ever felt. He wanted to pull away, yet he wanted to fall into the warmth that radiated off his partner and seemed to be welcoming him into safety. His skin was tingling all over as if it was more than his lips Spirit was touching, and a peace he'd never known began to fall over him, slowly offering relief like shelter from a storm.

Stein was about to close his eyes and surrender to the sensations that were beginning to overwhelm him, but then unfocused in front of him, Spirit's eyes opened. In a rush, he remembered the purpose of badgering his weapon into intimacy, and then cautiously let the tension he'd unknowingly put into his jaw fall slack. Spirit's fingers became more firm against his cheek, and then his lips were sealing gently over the slight parting of Stein's. The pressure of Spirit's lips against his own sent a fresh rush of heat across his senses, and then the smoke poured hot into his mouth, pooled across his tongue and hit high in the back of his throat.

It wasn't an immediate pleasure, and he pinched his eyes closed as he fought against the instinct to gag. But then he felt a different type of rush as the drug entered his system, bringing an artificial lightness that he couldn't decide in the moment if he cared for or not. Especially not when there were far more interesting sensations, like Spirit's lips beginning to close and pull softly upon his own.

When he felt the weapon pulling away, Stein's fingers found Spirit's elbow in blind pursuit of an anchor, and to his dismay a soft sound like a whimper escaped his throat. He opened his eyes again as Spirit's lips finally left his, a feeling of cold abandonment taking the place of the fire. The redhead's brow twisted in confusion, and Stein just barely had the presence of mind to close his lips to prevent the smoke's escape even as his lungs felt near to bursting from lack of oxygen.

The latter need took over, and Stein felt the sensitive membranes of his nasal passages burn as he blew most of the smoke out through his nose and then let the rest escape his mouth without grace, a few uncontrolled coughs following. His grip on Spirit's elbow tightened, and the redhead gave a single hum of a laugh as he smiled and let his hand fall to rest on Stein's shoulder.

"What do you think?" Spirit asked quietly.

Stein's head was reeling, and beyond the fixed point of Spirit's bright eyes and hair it felt like the room was sat upon a roiling ocean. He stared up at Spirit as he willed his senses back to calm, as he tried to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back to human norms. He blinked against reflexive tears as the smoke somehow stung his eyes, and another cough was the only response he was able to manage.

Spirit made another humming sound like a laugh, and his gaze softened even more.

"You'll probably need more experience before you know if you like it or not."

Whether the implication was deliberate or accidental, Stein knew the obvious interpretation had reached his eyes for the way Spirit's own widened and stared back at him, his skin suddenly flushing pink. Stein was sure his own pale cheeks were, for once, equally awash with color.

"Uh... I mean..." Spirit said stumbling, his breaths quickening.

"So..." a deep voice sounded from the doorway.

The sound of the new presence intruding upon the world Stein was still spinning within wasn't quite startling enough to bring his senses back to earth, but it caused Spirit to jump and back away from Stein as if he'd been struck by lightning. And for the heat still prickling soft over his lips, Stein wasn't so sure he hadn't been.

"Sid!" Spirit cried, voice high with panic. "What, uh...uh... D-Don't sneak up on people like that!"

"So..." the younger teen repeated, "if anybody asks me, you two weren't just—"

"No!" Spirit fairly shrieked, his voice going high.

"And you're not smoking on Academy property."

Stein suddenly found the smoldering butt of the cigarette pushed between his fingers as Spirit sputtered something else in protest that Stein didn't bother listening to. He was focused on the flush over Spirit's cheeks and the peace that seemed to have wrapped itself around him like a blanket—a feeling he was determined to hold on to for as long as it would stay.

Sid walked past them and into the building and Spirit followed, babbling his frustrations all the while. Stein trailed just a step behind, watching the red of Spirit's hair as they continued the journey to their apartment.

He brought the cigarette up and took a tentative inhale, leaving his fingers against his lips. If anyone asked, he wasn't trying to hold that tingling sensation as long as possible. He wasn't trying to memorize the way Spirit's mouth had shaped itself to his.

And he definitely wasn't planning on further experiments.

[v3nusxsky]

Hi babe!! I love your work! I was wondering if you would be able to write a larissa x fem reader where r is having trouble sleeping so larissa offers to read her a bedtime story. Then she falls asleep in larissa arms. You can also add to this if you like and BTW can you make it really cute so it melts my heart. Thank you!!🤍🤍

Hey my lovely Anon! Thank you so much I had to give this a good shot I hope you don’t mind I added in hints of age regression as it seemed to flow well.

Lullaby

*Authors note~ saw this prompt and instantly knew it would be a self indulgent fic for myself. I've imagined this scenario so many times throughout my insomnia patch I'm thrilled to bring it to life.*

Trigger warning ~ none? Hints of age regression mentioned

Prompt~ see the ask^^^

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

You always hated this time of year. You could never settle around this time. Similar to seasonal depression your past experiences had left a few months of the year unbearable. And March was one of those months. The first of the year but shortly followed by April. So it was only natural that by the third week of March you were fed up. Sleep didn't seem to be something within your reach. It was making your ability unreliable and unbearable really. Empathy meant having good emotional and mental control, but how could you have either if you were constantly exhausted?

Lessons were a struggle, student's seemingly picking up on your lack of enthusiasm and yawns throughout the lesson. Uncommon for you, you were normally so bubbly and enthusiastic about your lessons. During these times you tend to opt for working from text books limiting the amount of focus you had to maintain. The next thing you noticed was how you slipped every now and then, the emotional barrier you created to keep your feelings inside falling every now and then. You notice as the class let out collective moans feeling your exhaustion before you snapped the barrier back up embarrassed. You'd apologise purposefully of course and truly they didn't mind, they were worried about you. Which is why they did the only thing they knew. The informed Larissa of what had been occurring the past three weeks.

During your planning period you heard the clicking of her signature heels on the floor. She knocked and you allowed her entry wondering why she'd be visiting you during the day? You hadn't missed any paper work, and no issues in lessons or with any of your dorm children that you were made aware of. It was that conversation that made you realise how obvious you were being. And Larissa had even teased about reading you a bed time story, that had you thinking when was the last time you let dove out? Ah yes with your ex. Gosh that long? No wonder you were feeling this exhausted this year. Last year you regressed daily, this allowed you the release and you often found you could gain a little sleep if you fell asleep when regressed.

But that wouldn't be possible here. At Nevermore no one was aware of the fact you regressed, it was a new job and truthfully you were always scared of people's reactions when they found out about dove. Truthfully it wasn't how people made it sound. You didn't dress up in baby clothes or wear nappies. No it was more allowing your mind to regress, your speech would regress and you'd enjoy things any child of that age would. Nothing untoward about it. And the fact you knew some people even thought it could be sexual made you feel physically Ill. No this was a coping mechanism and one you were missing. That was a topic for another day tho.

You lay in bed once again frustrated with the lack of sleep claiming you. Toying with the idea of texting Larissa about that bed time story. It was embarrassing really, but your brain had not let the thought go. Imagining how safe you'd feel tucked up into the older women's body as she cooed words from a book at you, sleep would claim you and you wouldn't need to fight it. In her arms you'd be safe. She'd hold you smiling as soft snores left you. Or even her humming one of your favourite lullabies lulling you into a perfect slumber. That was it. You had to try. And she had offered right? You picked your phone up from the nightstand and shot off a text, if she answered then you'd deal with it if not you'd wait it out and forget all about it.

Your phone dinged with a response almost immediately as if she had been waiting for you. You blinked a couple times to make sure you were reading it correctly. You were. She had instructed you to bring whatever you needed and join her in her office. You grabbed your fluffy blanket/hoodie and your phone, slipping on some slippers and made your way down the halls. When you arrived you knocked gently painfully aware of the late hour. She immediately gave joy the go ahead to come in and what you were greeted with was truly special. Her long hair was released from its perfect usual position. It now hung loosely over her shoulders the waves adding a whole new look to the older women. She then had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, hiding her nightwear from you but also keeping her warm. She gestured to you to go into the adjacent room... her bedroom. Holy shit this really would be a bed time story.

That's how you were all snuggled up to the older women listening as she read to you. Her voice and her close proximity to you soothing you in ways you never thought anyone could. You were vaguely aware of what the book was actually about, weatherly heights, but you mainly focused on how light and soft her voice was as the words just seemed to flow. You could feel yourself sleeping into a sleepy state as she finished her chapter. Only then did she place the book down and shift to hold you closer to her. Now you could burrow your face into her neck, feeling the rhythm of her beating heart. And that's when the tone of a familiar lullaby reached your ears. Unknowingly to Larissa this caused you to regress.

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green

When you are king, dilly dilly,

I shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly,

Who told you so?

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,

That told me so

Call up your friends, dilly, dilly

Set them to work

Some to the plough, dilly dilly,

Some to the fork

Some to the hay, dilly dilly,

Some to thresh corn

Whilst you and I, dilly dilly,

Keep ourselves warm

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,

Lavender's green

When you are king, dilly dilly,

I shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly dilly,

Who told you so?

'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,

That told me so

She hummed out the last line noticing the steady rise and fall of your chest indicating sleep had finally taken you. Only in that moment did she allow her smile to fully reach her eyes, she knew she had feelings for you yet not the confidence to admit them. When she saw you becoming absolutely exhausted she knew she had to help somehow. And if allowing you to sleep snuggled into her was what you needed then it was something she would gladly provide. With a sweet kiss pressed into your head and a whispered I love you she then let sleep claim her.

Word count ~ 1249

[guardianoftheotherside]

Ok one more for the day, feel free to answer this whenever you have time. No rush. I also have been on a Darkest Dungeon kick so pardon my enthusiam some, heheh...

How does each Horseman react to seeing Y/N rage whilst playing Darkest Dungeon 1 and 2? How do they react to playing it themselves? And what are their favorite classes for lore and gameplay reasons? Fave/Least fave boss? Who keeps Dismas and Reynauld alive past the Old Road or to the end of the first game? Finally, what is their reaction to seeing Dismas missing Reynauld before unlocking him via saving him in DD 2?

Side note, could see Crimson Court driving everyone nuts. But they still enjoy it for the most part.

I’m sure that after learning about mechanics horsemen would try to remind Y/N about heart attacks and keep an eye on stres levels.

They all would love to try to play themselves. I see it like that:

War as Crusader or Man-at-Arms

Death as Plague Doctor or Leper

Strife as Highwayman or Jester

Fury as Hellion or Musketeer

I’m not sure about bosses so I will live this question open for you to discuss it. Also I think you are right about Crimson Court.

[takami-takami]

Happy Birthday.

includes— hawks. severe angst. hurt/no comfort.

warnings— very grotesque trauma reaction. emeto. blood. ptsd. i cannot stress enough to be careful and avoid this if it's triggering.

There's a bloodstain on the tip of his shoes.

With ankles dragged back by clinking, weighted chains, Hawks pulls himself through the doors of his sanitized apartment. Keigo steps out the other side.

He blinks. Keigo blinks. Hawks blinks in turn, up and a little to the left of his body.

His home looks familiar, unchanged as it always does. Hand-selected specifically for their one and only golden boy, the commission itself furnished the living room shades of steel and icy blue. It's a garnish on a dish served cold, a pop of color adorning an empty plate.

He never did like the color blue. It clashes with his eyes; but at least it isn't red.

Keigo detests the color red.

Keigo has always detested the color red.

The first is simply a hurdle, they say. A celebratory milestone for budding saviors in his line of work. The death was clean, they congratulated, handshakes abound as blurry bodies in suits pat his back, groping the flesh of his shoulders like proud fathers.

What did you make me do?

What did you make me do, what did you make me do, what did I do—

There's a bloodstain on the side of his shoes.

With a thud and a click of metal doors behind him, the boy is left alone to watch the spinning furniture through bleary, fogged eyes. Wrinkled at the corners, they blink closed and open again, nearly reptilian in motion and blooded just as cold.

His heart thumps heavily, but not swiftly.

For now, the flow of his veins keeps still, a far cry from his swimming vision. It's a dam, an artificial protective mechanism constructed by cognition factors of the brain; but numb is better than the alternative. Numb is better than the spilling rapids that threaten to splash over the edges and overflow.

He supposes it's better, that is. God knows he doesn't know anything else.

Seventeen years old— eighteen, now. Someone should invent a number for how old he feels.

There's a bloodstain on the bottom of his shoes.

They'll have to replace the linoleum tile. He'd rather scrub it clean himself; a mental note.

He clicks his headphones on to divert his attention before he remembers his hero training: associated sights and sounds can attach to memories, so he should distract a civilian as best he can to keep them grounded. This is his favorite song, and he would hate to dirty it by connecting it to an unwanted neuron or two. Frantic, he tries desperately to erase the lyrics, the title, the tune from memory. He tries to preserve its original, untouched state. The audio waves lose their clarity, muddied and corrupted and glitchy; so he taps next far too many times.

The corrective action simply smears the grime along the melody, and he yanks his headphones off for peace of mind.

All that is left to hear is thrumming white noise.

As he stands unmoving, the silence rings in his ears like the consistent drip of a leaky faucet. Eerily, liminally, buzzingly still, it rings in its silence. It is silent in its ring.

Everything is still, everything is the same and there is nothing he can do, nothing has changed but everything has changed and—

Something is sitting on the coffee table.

It's new.

A crisp, white slip of paper, signed and dated courtesy of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

A check.

The water of his blood runs cold, draining rapid off the sides as it begins to rush and overflow.

Entirely without his permission, his scraggly form doubles over and retches, fingertips smearing against the glass of the coffee table before his arms fly out like they're searching for something. Crash and clatter, the deafening sounds ring out, preselected decorations from industry-class interior designers knocked off the glass as he grips.

Hands tap once, twice on the surface, before a palm darts up to cover his gagging mouth. His eyes widen, bloodshot, dashing left and right—

Until he sees it, sitting isolated by the television set.

Still on his feet, he nearly tumbles as he crawls over to grip it with both hands, emptying his guts into the pretty, pristine, perfect, prepackaged and plastic bin.

Someone tucked a bag in it, lining around the inside to keep the object fresh and free of bacteria and clutter and dirt. It's almost rather thoughtful. The film crinkles loud as he vomits.

His knees thud against the tile of the bloody linoleum, emptying and emptying himself in garbled chokes and chunks, until the infection of the bile ceases to rise; until all that's left for him to give is the spittle of his sputtered coughs, the patter of clear tears that plop and mix into the mess below.

Hands trembling along the rim, Keigo hiccups.

All clean.

My nose stings, he thinks, sniffling as he pinches it. It feels like acid. It probably is.

Up he rises on shaky legs, wiping his face with the back of his grimy glove. Plucking the paper from its place on the table, he drops it in the bin. It laughs at him, the inked letters morphing into a cheshire sneer.

He tries to forget its sum, generating random strings of numbers in his head to confuse his neurons— three, seven, five, two.

Once the silence drapes over his shoulders like filthy, clipped wings, he almost misses the sound of retching. It's preferable to the silence; at least, he thinks it could be. God knows he doesn't know anything else.

His dispatch monitor buzzes firm against his thigh— an alarm.

Oh, that's right.

He nearly forgot to clock out.

There's a bloodstain on the inside of his shoes.

[mxdarling]

[“You’re weak. You need me.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: you tried to escape from azul's grasp, it did not end well.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 1030

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe occ azul, yandere behavior, establish relationship, breaking up, monopolizing time, one mention about azul's past (though it isn't really talked about), clingy behavior, stalking behavior, social isolation, stalking (the eel twins), drugging (psilocybin).

[GN reader]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Azul Ashengrotto;

AZUL ASHENGROTTO, a well-known 2nd year student in night raven college (long before you arrived), dorm leader of octavinelle dormitory, owner of the cafe called monstro lounge, and someone who you love oh so dearly.

used to love, at least.

it wasn't until then that azul had grown a little too.. keen on keeping your time occupied with him and limited with other people. at first, you didn't think much of it; considering azul's past you thought maybe he would eventually grow out of it. if you simply show him, he can trust you. whether it be twisted wonderland or your own world, you wouldn't leave him for someone else. lately though, it's been getting more difficult to keep that promise. with how frequently azul asks questions about your day, even such specifics ones. asking what time you've eaten breakfast, how much time you've spent with your friends, who were you with in each classes. the classes you have with him feel almost suffocating. he hasn't done anything to you yet no air can breathe through your lungs, almost as if you're drowning just by his presence alone.

even when he isn't around, you can feel his gaze constantly on your back. never really there but always watching you. you couldn't sleep nor focus for weeks, all because of these unceasing feeling of being on edge caused by him. sometime later, you've found out that the eel twins have been following you around in campus, a direct order from azul you presume. it wasn't too bad, at first. you didn't think it would cause almost everyone one campus to avoid like a plague. even some of your closest friends stopped talking to you. though you weren't sure what were azul's intentions, you knew none of them are good. so in a desperate need to solve your current predicament, you decide to confront azul about the matter.

"care to repeat that again, dear? i think i misheard you the first ti-"

"i said, we're done. do i need to repeat it the third time?"

you're standing standing in the vip lounge, staring straight at him, in front of his desk with stacked piles of paper. he was looking down, viewing the contents of the papers yet listening to every word you said. you weren't entirely sure how he would react to such news, in case that happens you nervously braced for any sort of reaction he might have.

"..why is that so? you aren't one to do something without a reason, prefect."

he looked up from the papers, his cool gray eyes finally stared back at yours, you struggle to maintain eye contact with him. you haven't been able to see him eye to eye due to the circumstances. this is the first time you've seen his eyes up close in forever. you've forgotten how those were the same eyes that brought you ease and comfort, now all they bring were anxiety and paranoia. you look away in hope of getting rid of these feelings but alas it only gotten worse.

"you haven't answered my question, prefect. you should know i am not a person to have much time on my hands."

you hear him say with a stern voice, he's getting impatient. though you aren't entirely sure what to say to him. slowly looking back at him, his face remain neutral. calm, even... he was hard to read, you thought if you knew him well enough you'd be able to read him just a little bit. you struggle to give an answer under his watchful gaze, eventually you gave out a unsure answer.

"i.. i don't think this relationship.. can work anymore, azul.."

stuttering out the best response you can give at that moment, you pray that azul will finally understand your point.

"i see.. very well then, you may go."

oh phew.. at least he reacted calmly this time. you weren't sure if you could handle another emotional outburst from him, especially with how tired you are.

...wait. did he say you can go? has a miracle finally happened!? has lady luck finally grant you your wishes!? whatever the reason is, it doesn't matter nor do you care. you're finally free, no more feeling of being watched, no more feeling of being lonely, no more of having to deal with azul's emotional outburst and overbearing behavior. you're free, free from all of it. more specifically, free from him. you happily reach for the door knob, yet you're frozen in place.

what is this sudden fear you're experiencing...? why does it feel like time is slowing down..? why does everything look so distorted..? why is your heart racing..!? you start to feel your breath shortening. since when was it so hard to breathe!? you lean against a wall, clutching your chest in hopes you'll start to calm down. you didn't. you can't help but start to cry, what's happening to you? why now of all times!? what makes it worse, you're still in the same room with azul. isn't he gonna help you? since when was he standing in front of you..? you could hardly distinguish his figure but you can tell by the faint voice you hear that the person standing before you in definitely and certainly azul.

he gentle holds you in his embrace, helping you be stabilize so you do not fall onto the floor. holds your cheek in the palm of one of his hands and rest the other onto your waist. his hands are soft and tender, you've forgotten how it felt to be held by him like this. you lean into his touch, slowly losing the purpose of why you were so happy to reach the door knob.

"don't worry prefect, what you're experiencing is just some side effects. they'll go away soon."

side effects..? what does he mean by that...? you mutter a response yet it comes out as incomprehensive sounds. your brain starting to feel like mush by the second.

"do not fret, angelfish, i've taken upon myself to be held responsible for your well being. after all, you're weak. you need me. i promise, i'll take very good care of you..."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; oh god, first one shot as of the year 2023! thank you for requesting azul ashengrotto with dialogue 22#, anon! it was a pleasure writing this! never thought i had to search up 'drugs found in mushrooms' but here we are (i blame jade for this). idk if i wrote the psilocybin effects properly, so if there's any mistakes about it i'm sorry! i didn't actually wanted to really do this event cause it revolves a lot on one shot writing and you guys know I'm not really confident in that part but I decided to give it a try to maybe get some feedback on it and get better at it for future writing ideas and requests. so let me know if i did a good job! (p.s. the ending might be rushed, so sorry for that but i really wanted to post something!)]

[siredisco]

freemind... He starts the series as a very abrasive but harmless guy. Only experience with guns being watching Top Gun repeatedly. People don't react to his threats, so he makes them often and they don't mean a thing. He's late to work very often. People act like he isn't very good at his job. He goofs off at work.

This character stays pretty consistent for the majority of the first half of the series. Until the chapter Apprehension ends, he takes a while to stop thinking about the fact that he's killing people and that this is the first time he's ever interacted with guns. He's hungry all the time. He considers curling up in a vent and waiting to die and only doesn't because being hungry would be worse.

Then the ambush happens and he goes through the following chapters not really remembering what happened to him, fully willing to kill anyone and everyone he meets the moment he realizes that's adjacent to what he was doing before the ambush, and he's unbothered by the idea of mass murder. Violence ceases to phase him at all.

He is also an incredibly silly person throughout and. Probably has echolalia. He makes goofy noises, meows, beeps (especially when something has just beeped at him), jumps for joy on two occasions, garbles words horribly, likes repeating words until they blend together and barely sound like the originals, that sort of thing. Interestingly, that takes place primarily before the ambush. He's still silly afterwards, but. Different.

He is also horribly /tired./ I can see, as the series goes on, him slipping up and making more stupid mistakes just because he isn't able to think straight. He almost walks into a tripmine because he hasn't slept in two-three days. The last time he was awake for four days in a row, he thought frog people were invading his house.

There's a lot to love about him. I think about him a lot these days.

I have personal ideas that line up with what you said about the echolalia and noises. One of the parts I'm focusing on is the Apprehension/post-Apprehension change, because it's so interesting, especially in ways of coping mechanisms. I have some of my own little theories I'm going to write about (such as- I think he's physically fit but also may have a physically disability/some type of chronic pain. Purely because of his eye loss and drug use history. It's in my brain all the time as a human with chronic pain, but cannon is sorta different, so we'll see if it comes up).

He's my choice because of how interesting and complex he is as a person. His family relationships, his reactions (lack-there-of), the pirate episode (so important), and speech patterns/ how he talks to/ about others. It's all so. . . In my mind. All day. Your notes specifically get him more in brain, because they're so good and helpful because I don't have to time to watch every episode again for this (but I'm watching it congruently).

This is such a good view overall. The hunger part is something I brought up in a short answer I wrote for this same class a week~ish ago. I get to go crazy and this just provides me more food-for-thought. Yaay thank you.

[the-rogue-that-goes-stab]

HORUS Tarrasque

Okay... Fine... I have a HORUS issue

Hey so, if any one is really squimish, might want to skip past this one, it's very... fleshy.

The Tarrasque has 3 main ideas: fleshy guy(TM), being so thicc you block hacking, and referencing Chaos Undivided.

The Tarrasque, named after the infamous DnD monster, is a size 3 lump of cancerous flesh stimulated and controlled with implanted electrical wiring. It's slow and doesn't have a reactor, it doesn't have a Heat Cap (or stress for that matter). As a result, as with every character without a Heat Cap, it takes energy damage when it receives Heat. To make this even more powerful, the Tarrasque has an altered trait based on the Balor's Regeneration. Justified by having a fucked up NEITH printer duplicating it's pilot cells, it has a Fleshy Regeneration that is slowed by taking energy damage and outright stops with burn (and structure loss like Balor). It even gains "armor" from this canonical regeneration; it regenerates so fast, it does so while being shot.

In a similar note, it also is Self Perpetuating.

Despite its "armor" value, the mech itself is Fragile as I don't imagine skin is not as protective as good old Steel. Also it doesn't have windows because if it did, the flesh would grow over it, and then you would have to try to remove it and there would be so much blood, just not worth the effort. Due to being Windowless, it has beefed up sensors with limited range: you can only draw line of sight out to your sensors (8) but it can't be reduced besides reducing your sensor range.

As for the fact that it's a blob of flesh given shape and movement through wires, it gets a smorgasbord of effects including giving difficulty to tech attacks against itself and to a greater degree it's allies; counting as a Biological character for any negative effects; and having 1/round resistance to self inflicted Energy damage.

Core power wise, the Tarrasque has a protocol that grants 4 armor and has resistances applied before armor until the end of the scene, as you overclock the regeneration to ridiculous levels.

License:

(LL1) Bile Launcher - projectile vomit a corrosive substance on someone with this Auxiliary sized Cannon. On crit, your target gets slogged down with the disgusting bile, becoming Slowed. Inspired by Grandpa Nurlge

(LL1) Quicktwitch Implant - by hijacking both the damage sensors and movement controls, the QTI forces its host to move when damage (1/turn) with an automatic reaction, useful to get around but potentially annoying. Inspired by Slaanesh.

(LL2) frame wow

(LL2) Brutish Maw - an indestructible heavy Melee weapon made from a hungering, fleshy mouth. Its Nip profile is deadly for biologicals and drones but ineffective to the superior armor of mechs (Archaic) however its charged Chomp attack does devastating damage. 1/scene, if this weapon makes a character lose structure, you get to regain 1. Loosely Khorne inspired, as the frame itself is already pretty Khornate.

(LL2) Bioelectric Module - use a full action to throw a bolt of bioelectricity at some fool. Roll 2d6. If you roll a 5+, yippee 1d3 AP energy damage to their face. 11+ 1d6 instead. If you roll doubles, you shock yourself for 1d3 but other effects resolve unless you become destroyed. This is totally not a mechanic rip from 9th edition

(LL3) BE'LAKOR-CLASS NHP - canonically a former water treatment plant NHP turned wrong by people wanting to make a ghost with the power to rip people's blood out of their bodies. While in development to this point, the project went under and the current BE'LAKOR is all that remains. Its blood bending is really low ranged tho so it can only manipulate the fluids of its own mech, creating a fog of coolant (or blood in Tarrasque's case) that stops hacking against characters in Burst 2 unless the attacker is in your sensor range.

(LL3) Sinew Corruption - have flesh burst from some one's hull. If they are unwilling they can resist with a system save. Regardless of whether willing or not they take chip AP kinetic damage and are now biological until the end of your next turn.

I probably will have to tune down the literal hotdog over time but for now it's my loveable, horrific flesh beast. (Oh yeah it's interior is rather... humid and red)

Also last minute inspo stuff, the anti hacking element of Tarrasque and its regeneration kind of add to a "unstoppable" vibe that comes from its namesake.