#both applicable to that situation and this one

[pilferingapples]

I was just reading the "Enjolras and his lieutenants" chapter and I noticed that Enjolras used the informal you for both Courfeyrac and Jehan, but not for Feuilly. Would you happen to know the historical/language reasons as to why that is? I thought it may be because both are students and where I'm from, students use the informal you, even if they don't know each other. But Bossuet addressed Marius with the formal you when they first met, so I'm not sure if that really is the reason for that. Does it mean that canonically, they aren't as close as Enjolras is with the others or could there be another reason for it? Also, do you know why he still only adresses them by their last names, even though he's using the informal you?

Nonny you are asking me about one of the Great Questions of the Novel: what the heck is going on with Feuilly and the t/v distinctions?

I am not going to dive into the weeds of standard t/v use,but --along with all the usual applications, in canon era and especially the kind of social circles that Hugo knew best and is setting up for the Amis, " tu" seems to have been common for young men to use together (a) with friends from childhood (b) among certain groups of Romantics , Because Romantic Friendship (c) particularly relevant here , among certain republican groups, because of the implied equality of everyone using it. Cosette will reference this use later:

And obviously all of this only makes Enjolras vous-ing Feuilly weirder!

And complicating the theorizing, Enjolras does use Tu for Feuilly later on, during his big barricade speech:

 Écoute-moi, toi Feuilly, vaillant ouvrier, homme du peuple, hommes des peuples. Je te vénère.

I have no solid answer, only theories! Theory 1: Feuilly is, somehow, fairly new to the group in Lieutenants. Counterargument: then why is he already one of the Lieutenants? And in what seems to be a particularly Secret secret meeting with ONLY the Lieutenants in attendance?

Theory 2: Maybe Feuilly's much older than we generally estimate , enough to make the Tu seem less automatic? The later use of tu at the barricades seems to argue against that, but maybe that's a special " we're all fighting and about to die" level of intimacy, since Tu does seem to be in general use there? Counterargument: hugo refers to them all being Young so very, very often, and ok that seems to include Up To Maybe 35, but still. Feuilly's part of their age cohort by all other signs.

Theory 3, Not Very Satisfying but Realistic: Hugo's bein' weird. Hugo personally used Vous for almost everyone, unless they were either direct family or , to be blunt, someone he was having an affair with. He definitely used Vous in friendships most anyone else would have considered a definite Tu situation. Maybe Hugo had an idea about it that he didn't flesh out; maybe he just wrote that and didn't catch it in edits; maybe his handwriting there was just really especially awful and whoever did the Clean Copy that day * didn't transcribe it right and no one later down the line saw it as a typo. Mundane, unrelated to the narrative reasons.

Counterargument: none ,really, except it's kinda boring.:P

Theory X (silly fandom only theory) : Enjolras and Feuilly are trying to act like they are on more formal terms , for shenanigans reasons. Maybe they're working on their Cover for a Secret Mission. Maybe they're trying to hide the fact they've started dating.

As for the Last Name thing, it's just how some people , especially men, are? I don't know that it really needs more explanation, but by all means tell me if you've got a theory! Personally I've always liked " Everyone is named Jean (so they default to last names) XD

usually, but not always, Juliette Drouet

[freesia-writes]

Ch 8: Further Developments

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.4k

Author's Note: Perhaps this has been off to a bit of a slow start... but I would like to assure you that there is a fun bit of action coming shortly. ;)

Family dinners were one place where Hunter felt he could truly relax. Surrounded by the people he enjoyed most, safe and satisfied, it had a grounding effect and he held a deep gratitude for the weekly tradition. He leaned back in his chair, finishing the last of the juice he’d come to love since arriving. It was a local concoction of fruits and nuts, blended and pressed by hand through fine mesh, and had a rich, complex flavor that seemed both sweet and savory at the same time. In keeping with most of the naming conventions of the island, which included places like The Cobbles, Town Square, and The Forest, the locals had kept it very simple and straightforward, calling it Lo Juice officially while most people simply referred to it as Lo. 

“Thanks for saving this for me,” Hunter said to Phee, who had commented as she poured his glass that it was the last of their bottle, and she’d forbidden Tech from drinking it until family dinner. There was just enough for him, Hunter, and Omega, who all shared an affinity for it. 

“Sure thing,” she answered, casting a smug glance at Tech, who frowned in harmless exasperation. 

“It seems ridiculous that one cannot enjoy the beverage of choice in his own home simply due to the imminent arrival of a sibling who, in virtually every possible scenario, should have no problem procuring his own bottle of said beverage.”

“Thanks to you too, Tech,” Hunter said, lifting his empty glass in a toast. Tech shook his head, opting to change the subject. 

“This vegetable side dish you prepared was excellent. It is not within your usual realm of cooking. What inspired the new endeavor?”

“It was delicious,” Phee agreed, her thigh resting against Tech’s as he sat beside her – a minor yet meaningful form of physical touch that he appreciated. “Where’d you find this stuff?”

“Lyra gave them to us. From her garden,” Hunter answered, secretly pleased to see that the serving dish was scraped clean.

“Lyra, huh? And who might that be?” Phee tipped her head, regarding Hunter with a little too much scrutiny for his tastes.

“She works at the school. Omega enjoys talking to her, and she’s been helping her a lot with applications and internship stuff. She ran into me one morning when I was coming back from an empty hunt and sent them home with Omega later on… ‘so we wouldn’t go hungry’,” he echoed, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Huh. Well that was kind,” Phee remarked, eyes twinkling. “You should bring her next week.”

“What?” Hunter blurted out, noticeably quickly, “Why?”

Phee laughed at his response, shrugging her shoulders with nonchalance, “Why not?”

“I mean… She’s just some lady from school. She’s not family.”

“She could be,” Phee answered in an almost sing-song voice, taking great pleasure in Hunter’s mildly flustered appearance. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Sarge. She doesn’t have to be family – anyone’s welcome here. I mean, we put up with him…” she tilted her head toward Crosshair, who was distracted in conversation with Omega, and her humor effortlessly diffused the situation.

“How big is her garden?” asked Echo, who had tuned in from across the table.

“Is that a euphemism?” Tech asked pertly, earning a delighted chuckle from Echo, who shook his head as Hunter answered.

“No idea. Why?” 

“If she’s got a lot of this, it would be a great lunch at the training academy.”

“Are you providing lunch now?”

“No, but we could. Sell it for some credits.”

“You’d probably eat it all before anyone else got to touch it!” Wrecker accused, breaking into the back-and-forth.

“Yeah, because I eat sooo much,” Echo said dryly, eyeing the much bigger clone pointedly.

“Hey! I’ve got a fast metabolism!” Wrecker laughed, bumping Echo on the shoulder warmly and catching the attention of the others at the table. “And it’s not that you eat a lot, it’s that it’s too tasty to pass up!”

“The vegetables are delicious, but I think we really need to consider that it’s actually the excellent roasting technique that brings out their flavor,” Omega said, failing to suppress the mischievous grin bursting behind her tightly-pressed lips. 

“That’s right!” Wrecker joined in, “Otherwise they’d taste like dirt!”

“You’d probably still eat it,” came the slithering snark from the end, where Crosshair was reclining in his chair with his boots crossed on the corner of the table. 

“First of all,” said Phee, kicking his chair hard enough to jerk him sideways and bring his legs crashing to the ground, “Get your feet off my table. And secondly, leave the grump show at the door. What’s eating at you, anyway? I thought you were all happy about the observatory thing.”

“What observatory thing?” Omega echoed, eyes widening inquisitively as Crosshair delicately rearranged his limbs with disdain, pointedly avoiding Phee’s gaze. 

“I’m going to work at the observatory, for now…” the sniper said, almost glaring at each family member in turn as though daring them to say anything positive about it or ask anything further. Hunter picked up on a curious sheepishness in his demeanor.

“Crosshair shared earlier that he received an opportunity to assist in the various tasks needed to fully restore the telescopes, scanners, and other equipment to complete working order. He seemed excited at the possibility of this particular endeavor,” Tech filled in, aware but entirely unbothered by Crosshair’s narrowed eyes boring into the side of his head. “One would think that an engineer such as myself would be a more natural choice, however these particular duties will combine his sharp eyesight with his precise movement and rapid calculations. Therefore, it is an ideal fit for Crosshair.”

“So naturally, he’s thrilled,” Echo observed, raising an eyebrow at the glowering topic of discussion. “What’s so bad about it that you look like a Kowakian Monkey Lizard at the thought?” 

Omega giggled, earning a fond flicker of the eyes from Crosshair before he returned his attention to the inanimate center of the table to answer, “There are only two other people who work there: an old Xyloan and a Zygerrian. Both are insufferable.”

“A Zygerrian?” Tech said, his interest piqued. “They do not usually leave their own system, due to the outside world’s strong disagreement with their moral code and the ethics of their choices.”

“You mean their lack thereof?” Echo said, disgust on his face. He’d heard about them during his time in the 501st, and that, combined with their own encounter with them on Ord Mantell, had given him more than enough material to form a strong opinion. “What is it doing out here? Looking for slaves?” he sneered.

“No idea what he is doing out here,” Crosshair said, pushing the last bit of rice on his plate with a fork. “I only talked to the old lady.”

“The elderly Xyloan, you mean,” Tech corrected.

“Sure.”

“And she offered you the post?” The tinge of disbelief in Tech’s voice was undeniable, and Hunter felt a smirk threatening to betray his mirth.

“After a bunch of nonsense about the planet choosing me and how perfect it all was and how ‘the provision’ would continue, yes. She did,” Crosshair answered evenly. 

“Fascinating.”

The rest of the evening progressed as usual, with leisurely discussion over residual treats and warm drinks. Phee was an excellent host, always adding small touches to each dinner that made everyone feel satiated and cared for. From the glowing lanterns on the table to the ever-changing assortment of foods (thanks to Tech’s sudden interest and consequent expertise in cooking), it created a perfect haven in an already idyllic setting. 

Everyone had plans to attend the lunar festival, which was centered in the Town Square. Since Xylo was the biggest island of the planet, people came from around the globe to enjoy the festivities, bringing their own unique wares, foods, and talents. It seemed to be building an excitement around town that was becoming quite infectious. Young people were given flower crowns and “blessed” with exhortations to consider their future endeavors with benevolence and selflessness, and amid a wide array of entertainment, the Xyloans would tell their customary tale of how the island came to be. 

It had been passed down over the centuries, traveling through so many people that some thought it had gotten embellished along the way. But it was a revered tradition, whether the details were true or not, and there was something inspiring about the dedication that the elderly storytellers showed in their performance. It would be the first time that Hunter and his family would have the opportunity to attend, but they’d already heard so much about the festival as a whole that it felt as though they’d been a part of it for years. Everyone headed to their own homes that night with a sense of excitement, finding it pleasant to be part of something so unifying and eager to see how it would all play out. 

The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. Everyone seemed to be busy in preparation for the lunar festival. Omega was gleefully impatient for the most part, with periodic days of gloom or frustration due to the social issues with her classmates. It was hard for Hunter to see her going through it, but he was woefully ill-equipped to provide anything other than a steady stream of encouragement and positive regard. When he heard about some of the things they would say, he almost took Wrecker up on his offer to rough up the young adults, but Wrecker provided a steady source of calm and perspective about the whole ordeal. 

Lyra was a morning person, apparently, and somehow she and Hunter had fallen into a pattern of walking together in the early hours. He didn’t hunt every day, and after having run into her a number of times as she enjoyed the same calm paths and tranquil woods that he did, there was an unspoken agreement that they could pass the time together. They spoke, here and there, but also found that they were both comfortable with silence, which was a welcome reprieve for Hunter, who greatly valued the refreshment for his senses. 

Some mornings were particularly cold, and they opted for brisk walks up in the hills, exploring the craggy cliffs that rose above The Forest. Hunter never could hide his smirk at the number of layers of clothing she would wear, bundled from head to toe as they walked. Other days, when the fog was lighter and the air carried some warmth, they would venture further across the island, crossing rivers and weaving through the trees to find little inlets and small beaches. 

Lyra always insisted on taking some time to search the ground, no matter the setting, and would inevitably end up with a few odds and ends tucked into her pockets. The first time Hunter had grumbled about it, wanting to keep up their pace, she informed him gently and honestly that he was free to continue on his own. He’d chuckled at that, surprised at her ability to deliver the thought with neither sass nor ill will, and he’d instead contented himself with a thorough scrutiny of the nearby river, trying to assess if it would be a good location for freshwater fishing.

Their conversations were quiet and sporadic, initially focused on their immediate experiences on the island but slowly growing to include things from the past. Both seemed to be fairly private people, and neither of them were quick to offer up information without being asked. Hunter kept his origins vague, sharing that he had some wartime experience as a mercenary, “and some other things here and there”. He talked in general terms about the skills of each of his brothers and insinuated that Omega had been with them from the start. It was easier that way, and he was deeply grateful that Lyra didn’t pry, instead taking in his words with silent nods and the occasional hum. 

Similarly, however, he noticed that she was equally nebulous about the specifics of her own journey so far. He’d been able to gather that she was from Coruscant, where she had held a few different jobs, cooking her way through a few restaurants of increasing prestige, then moving into a server position where she waited on quite a few of the political elite. This had led to her offer of an administrative job in a highly-regarded Republic office, which she’d joked was given purely based on her “ravishing good looks and undeniable charisma”. She seemed to think that was all a lifetime ago, however, laughing it off as the gifts of youth and viewing herself as distinctly beyond all that. She’d never been married, and there was no mention of children. Her grandmother had been a significant figure in her life before passing away, and she was estranged from her parents but didn’t share why.

The office job had gone smoothly for a number of years, but then it became more and more tumultuous – “scandals and drama” – she explained, so she chose to leave and find something as far away from it all as possible. And that’s what led her to Xylo. Hunter couldn’t resist asking how she found the planet, since it had been such an unexpected discovery during Tech’s thorough search, but she shrugged, a smirk playing on her lips as she answered: “It was a fortuitous tale of twists and turns… so many of them true.” 

He’d left it at that, respecting her own sense of privacy as she had observed his. The following silence was broken only by a clumsy squawk as Lyra slipped on some rocks while crossing a river, and Hunter had moved so quickly to catch her that he’d leapt into the water beside her, fighting to maintain his balance as his boots scraped against the smooth stones. He’d flung one hand around her waist, and grabbed her hand with the other, pausing for a few seconds for both of them to regain their footing. Apologizing profusely the entire way to the other side, she’d been too distracted to notice the redness on his cheeks at the sudden proximity they’d shared in that moment, and it would have taken someone with senses that rivaled his own to register his increased heart rate.

.

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[dreamonminecraft]

I think I get why Dream told Andi to get her facts straight before she accused Punz of anything

[arolesbianism]

Ok no one asked but I've been tempted to make Jackie and Olivia stalien designs since I've been working on some new icons for the eternal gales stalien kiddos and it's been making me also think abt how disastrous it would be if they were in the same stalien society that the main cast are from because dear god would they either die instantly or make things so much worse. Even if they did get lucky enough to be able to be remotely near a position to found a stalien version of gravitas, no way in hell they'd be able to get far enough to even begin their own morally corrupt downfall before one of the other big companies forcibly assimilated gravitas into their own corporations and do the same shit but way WAY worse. Even if Jackie Was in a position to eventually climb the ladder enough to get to a more ceo position shed probably end up painting a target on her back way before she could get there, as her and Olivia's whole infinite power research would be very much unwanted by most of the ceo elders. Oh and Olivia would be fucked even beyond that because she's a biologist lol so at best she's going to be forced to drop every last one of her morals and barely scrape by

[sanjisprincesswifey]

want you back ⋆ sanji x reader

summary: sanji wants you to be his (again)

♡: NSFW content. ex-boyfriend & jealous!sanji x afab!reader. MDNI. oral sex. cunnilingus. sanji is really whiny and won't stop trying to win you back (could be applicable to la or anime version). 2k+ words.

sanji bitterly watches from the deck of the merry as your silhouette appears over the horizon. he notices you stumble slightly, his tightening grip on the rail turning his knuckles white. 

he goes to put out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, helping you into the ship as soon as you approach.

“y/n! where were you? i was so worried about you,” he scolds as if you were a lost child. 

your eyebrows knit. “what? i told you guys not to wait up for me. i had a date, remember?” your words slur together, surely from the alcohol that your breath smelt of. 

sanji doesn’t respond, but kneels down to help you remove your shoes. you can hear him grumbling as you step onto the wood of the deck, taking your shoes in one hand and holding out the other for you to hold. 

“what’s the matter with you?” you ask, still accepting his offer and allowing him to take you to bed. 

“nothing,” is all he mumbles, though you know that’s a lie. deciding not to pry, you shrug it off and reach for your shoes back. 

“i can make it from here, sanji,” you say, wanting to leave as these events were starting to feel too familiar. 

he retracts his arm before you can take them, an annoyed expression on his face. he’s choking back what he really wants to say, eyes looming over you. 

but you knew that look…

“sanji,” you repeat with as much sternness as you could muster, “give.” your voice wavers, the tightness in your core already building with only his hands on you. 

his face soon turns cold as he refuses to both return your shoes and release your hand from his grip. there’s whispered arguing between the both of you as he pleads with you to let him take you back to your once shared room. 

“don’t do this now,” you whine, reaching for your doorknob. you can feel how close his body is pressed into yours, ready to enter the room right behind you. even you couldn’t convince yourself you didn’t want this to happen. 

“please,” he begs, already beginning to back you into the room. “i..i shouldn’t have broken up with you, y/n.

you think? 

you put your hands out to stop him from coming any closer so you could speak, now able to feel his taut muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. though you both already knew you weren’t strong enough to stop him, you weren’t exactly trying your hardest to get him to leave either. 

“this does not mean we’re getting back together,” you warn in a very unconvincing tone, allowing yourself to fall back onto the bed. 

you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching a devious smile spreads across his lips as he hums along. “then i’ll just have to try harder next time.” 

you tsk, rolling your eyes as he stands over you, both of his long legs rest on either side of yours. 

sanji climbs on top of you, already tossing his shirt to the side as he leans down and harshly pushes his lips against yours.  

though it only had been a week or two since you had found yourself in this situation, his lips were so needy, swallowing up yours in quick hurried kisses that seemed so desperate to be on yours.

his fingers glide underneath the shirt you were wearing, roaming your skin as he pleased. a pathetic moan reverberates into your mouth when he realizes you hadn’t worn any undergarments with your outfit. 

sanji’s large hand cups one of your breasts while the pads of his fingers lightly tug at your plump nipples of the other. 

he’s so gentle, eliciting breathy whimpers from the back of your throat as he plays with the sensitive areas. 

“expecting to be fucked today,huh?” he growls against your lips.

the jealously that writhed throughout sanji’s body made his pants feel tighter, painfully straining his swollen cock. 

you can’t help but giggle, feathering your fingers through his blond hair. “yeah, just not by you.” 

though your words hurt, it only increased his hunger for you. his lips begin to trail from your mouth along your jawline, his warm, minty breath leaving balmy spots down your neck. 

he grips the end of the shirt you had adorned, torturing himself with the idea of some other man pinning you down like this tonight. and with haste, the shirt is pulled over your head and sanji nearly drooling at the sight.

your tits sit so beautifully on your chest, nubs perky and swollen from sanji’s teasing. you peek up at him through your lashes, poking your bottom lip out just so. 

sanji never wastes any time, dipping his fingers into your hips to remove the skirt too. your plush thighs squeeze together, a light squish sound from your already aching core. 

he begins to massage your skin working his way from his thighs to your hips, “so beautiful, mon amour.” 

butterflies flutter in your chest as if it was the first time he had ever seen you.  

you reach up and cup sanji’s stubbly chin, regaining his attention. “you love me?” you question, seemingly out of the blue. 

he feverishly nods, hands tracing back up to hold your face in his hands. his lips smother your own, desperately kissing you at an unrelenting pace. “so…fucking…much,” he exclaims in between kisses. 

while he’s distracted you grab his hand, the strong muscles so heavy under such intoxication, and drag it down until he’s ghosting over your exposed cunt.

sanji desperately grunts against your lips at the warmth that emanates from your pussy, his tongue slipping into your mouth as a thank you. 

your thighs part and he whimpers once again, his deft fingers traveling to gently slip one finger through your folds. 

a wave of pleasure shoots up your spine causing you to tug at the strands of blond hair that sit on the back of his neck. 

the slick that has already gathered coats his finger, easily sliding one digit inside. “oh fuck,” he groans feeling your walls ease open for him and allowing another to enter. 

a breathy moan falls from your lips, ringing so hypnotically throughout sanji’s ears. he pumps them in and out at a steady pace, making sure to keep you calm and relaxed for now. 

he glances down at your pretty lips, your mouth slightly parted as heavy breaths escape. 

his heart is racing so harshly in his chest, overwhelmed with how addicting your body is. 

“sanji,” you whine, dragging out the last syllable of his name. his name sounds so pretty coming from your lips and that’s when it hits him once again that it could’ve been some other man’s name you were moaning. 

it’s enough to have him increase his pace, a slight grit in his teeth as he watches you wiggle under his body.

“so fucking pretty, for me,” he enunciates, a low tone in his voice. his fingers curl to reach that spongy spot inside that he knows drives you crazy. 

the pleasure has your entire body writhing, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

you mewl as his thumb finds your clit with such ease, it was so pathetic how he didn’t even try to hide that he remembered the map of your body. 

he softly rubs the nub in a circle, which earned a tighter pull at his blond hair. your pants begin to increase as the alcohol made it impossible to keep anything inside. 

your thigh muscles contract at the sensation, his ministrations harshly continuing until the overwhelming sensation burns in your stomach. 

“gonna…cum, sanji,” you purr against his mouth. 

his own jaw is dropped slightly, his cock throbbing within his pants as your tongue pokes out from your mouth. 

“come for me, darling,” he gasps, breath heavy against your lips. 

a squeaky, frantic moan erupts from your chest, your silky walls clamping down on him as your cream soaks his long fingers. 

his eyes widen at the sight of your fucked-out face. your gorgeous features remain so perfectly sculpted despite your release, but that didn’t surprise sanji at all. 

sanji noticed the hunger in your eyes, desperately needing for you to take advantage of him as he ravishes your body. 

his lips attach to your neck, sucking on the area surely leaving discolored bruises. 

you hiss as sloppy kisses cover your skin, your stomach, your thighs, anywhere he could get his lips on. 

“c’mere pretty boy,” you plead, your sultry tone causing his love stricken chuckle to tingle against your lips. 

you drag your hands down his stomach, his tight muscles so rigid against your fingers. “take ‘em off,” you murmur, fingers hooking onto his belt loops. 

like a good boy, both his pants and underwear are removed within the second, his lips never parting from yours. 

his cock springs up the moment his underwear is removed, slapping his stomach and staining it with pre cum. “so needy,” you taunt, your hand lowering to lightly pump his cock that twitches in your hand. 

his wavering voice breaks as he tries to speak, “m…missed you.” 

you circle your thumb around his sensitive tip, the pitiful whimper being swallowed by your mouth. “aw, poor baby,” you tease. 

a breathy chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes track down as you guide his rosy red tip slip through your folds. the mixture of both of your liquids swirl together, his jaw shaking at the sight. 

“miss me too?” he questions, blue eyes desperately glancing between yours as he hovers above you. you reach up, combing through his blond fringe with a smile. 

before you can answer, sanji slowly pushes himself inside of you as you sharply inhale at each inch. he pulls himself out in a dragging, aching motion, a throaty groan exits both of your bodies. he repeats this motion with each thrust reaching farther and farther inside of your body. 

your hips instinctively buck upwards, whines slipping from your mouth as you beg for more. 

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he purrs into your ear. his breath invading your senses as you wrap an arm around his neck. 

sanji takes note of your affection, his pace gradually increasing as his hips curve upwards reaching for that better angle he missed so dearly. 

your breathing quickens, his soon following as rapid moans echo throughout sanji’s head. 

one hand grips onto your waist while the other cradles your head. he can’t resist locking his lips with yours, sloppily kissing you with an increasing force.  

“please…sanji,” you mumble, your body too shaky to even form a coherent sentence. his fingers dig into your thighs at the call of his name, nearly keening over as your gummy walks milk his cock. 

he can feel himself desperate for release, but sanji wants to savor this. he wants to soak up every inch of your skin that he has in his arm while he can. 

his hips rock with the smooth pace he maintains, guttural groans emitting from him as his sweaty body moves with yours. “fuck…need to…”

sanji’s eyes roll into the back of his head as his hot seed begins to coat your thighs, quickly removing himself from inside you. he gives himself a couple more pumps for good measure, his load spilling onto your lightly sweat-coated skin. 

thick, heavy breathing subsides into swallow pants as sanji leans down to kiss your forehead, lips lingering on the warm area. 

you hum with satisfaction as he reaches for a tissue from your bedside table, gently wiping away his liquids from your skin. 

“i do love you, y/n. do you love me?” he asks with a wavering breath, kissing your lips, once again, as he lays beside you. 

rolling your eyes, you latch your fingers between his. you look over and stare into his glossy blue eyes that still seem so irresistible after all this time. 

“we still aren't back together,” you warn once more, knowing this response was answer enough. sanji pulls you to his chest, his rhythmic heartbeat sounding as if it was playing a song for you. 

a small smile forms on his lips as he kisses the back of your hand. “it’s okay, i’ll try again another time.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:22 pm]

(cw: academic rivals, kinda enemies to lovers, past major asshole Jaehyun, violence, mentions of blood, reader is injured)

You sniffled as you scrubbed your hands in the sink. There was blood stuck to your hands, a mix of yours and the bitch that had decided to put her hands on you. The water stung and your knuckles felt sore, but the faster it came off, the less time you'd be stuck in this nasty bathroom.

This wasn't how you had expected your night to go. You wanted to dance and drink and have a good time with friends! It was a house party! One of the last of the school year, you wanted to have a good time. The last thing you'd expected was to get into a cat fight with some girl you barely knew. Well- you knew of her but you didn't know her. She was your ex's new girl and she was mad at you because he still followed you or you looked at him? You weren't even sure anymore.

When the water ran clear you finally looked at the damage elsewhere. A long scratch on your arm that was deeper at the top than at the bottom, but red and angry from her fake nails. Then there was the stinging in your cheek paired with the cut on your bottom lip that was stinging and throbbing.

You stared at the sight of your lip and the ripped sleeve of your shirt and whimpered while tears filled your eyes. This wasn't you. You never fought with anyone. How was it your fault that he followed you? You didn't even follow him back! And if you had looked at him, you didn't even take notice of it and you certainly didn't mean to.

Someone pounded on the door before a deep voice yelled, "Come on! Let's go!"

You breathed, wiping away tears, "Occupied!"

"Yeah I know that! I've been waiting for 5 minutes!"

You rolled your eyes, frustratingly pulling the door open to tell this person off. The words died on your tongue as soon as you saw the last person you would want to see in this situation- or any situation.

Jung Jaehyun. Your academic rival since middle school. An academic rival that had turned to a borderline enemy. From your side it had started off more friendly and fun. You smiled and teased him every time you scored higher than him and playfully rolled your eyes when he bragged about his higher scored.

It was only when it got to university applications and scholarships that you realized he could genuinely hate you. Every chance he got to bad mouth you to teachers and advisors he would, pictures of you at parties sent to prestigious university admissions officers, stolen homework, and on more than one occasion, some kind of liquid poured on your laptop. After processing his very apparent hatred to you, you didn't hold back going off on him. A lot of screaming matches, arguments, and passionate discussions occurred between the both of you which more than often landed you both in the principal's office.

Thankfully, you managed to secure a spot at your top university, which happened to be Jaehyun's second choice and since being here, you both tried your best to avoid each other like the plague. You had different majors, had different extracurriculars, but your friend group overlapped a bit. Thankfully, around your friends and with age you and Jaehyun could be cordial, and at times even friendly. However, that didn't mean that at times the occasional heated conversation wouldn't happen- because they would- often. But the majority of time you could share a laugh, have small talk, even have fun together. It was like a 150, not 180- you weren't that mature, from the kids you once were.

His eyes widened momentarily, "What the fuck happened to you? Are you okay?!"

You cleared your throat, "there's another bathroom on the second floor by the door with the beer poster. Or you can wait for me to finish in here."

You tried to close the door, but his hand stopped you. You didn't even have time to argue back or really even process that he was in the bathroom with you before he asked, "are you okay- who did this to you- what happened?!"

His hand was gentle as he cupped your stinging cheek which made you wince in his hold. This was all you needed for the floodgates to open, your breaths were shuddery as you cried, your forehead falling to his shoulder as his t-shirt absorbed your tears. "Some girl that's dating my ex. I can't even remember what her reason was all I remember is feeling her smack me," you cried.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're fine now. Let me see your face, let's get you cleaned up," Jaehyun told you softly.

His hands cupped your neck and tilted your head back so he could assess the damage. He led you over to the toilet and had you sit while he dug around the cabinets for a first aid kit.

"This might sting a bit," he mumbled before swiping alcohol pads over your knuckles and then the scratch on your arm. You inhaled sharply at the cold, stinging sensation. Next, he took a spare towel and lightly dabbed at your lip with gentle hands.

You couldn't help but stare at his face, he was just a few inches away. You could feel his warm breath on your face while he wiped away at the dried blood. As much as you hated him, or rather, he hated you, you could never deny how handsome he was. Which is why it hurt all the more when your middle school crush started hating you the second grades mattered. You could get away with thinking it had been flirtatious competition, but it very clearly hadn't been. Since then, your crush hadn't come back- until now.

His thumb and pointer finger gently gripped your chin as he checked out the cut on your lip. "It doesn't look very deep, but it's going to take a while to close up. She did a number on you, did you get her back?" He asked to distract you.

The sting of a new alcohol and bright tears to your eyes, "Jaehyun! That hurt!"

"I know Pretty, here, hold my hand. I just need to clean it," he explained while extending his non dominant hand to you.

You held his hand in both of yours while your eyes clenched shut before the alcohol touched your lip. You felt hot tears slip out and breathed deeply, "how do you know what you're doing?"

He chuckled, lightly dabbing at the cut on your lip, "common sense, used to clean myself up, and I'm pre-med."

Your eyes flew open in surprise, "I can't believe I forgot!"

The silence went on until the last alcohol pad went in the trash can beside you. "There," Jaehyun smiled softly, his eyes locked on yours, "just as pretty as before with a hint of badass."

You blushed, tearing your gaze away from his in favor of looking at the towel rack on the wall, "why did you help me Jaehyun? You hate me."

His mouth opened, no sounds escaping him. He took a second to gather his thoughts. "I don't hate you and I don't think I ever did. I was a jealous, stupid kid. I couldn't stand that the person I liked could be smarter than me. Then I just got so used to the dynamic, I just carried it on. I don't hate you," Jaehyun sighed, rubbing his hands down his face.

"So what now?"

"I stop being an asshole and treat you like I should to show you I'm good enough for you. And I'm going to start by walking you home," he stated confidently.

You smiled at him, "but I'm hungry."

He laughed deeply, "then first we're getting food and then I'm getting you home."

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: What sacrifices you’ll need to make

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! I will give you a reading on what sacrifices you will need to make. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.

Masterpost > Paid Readings

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

You will need to make some financial sacrifices soon. This might have to do with going to a higher level of education, some of you will have many birthdays coming up. For most of you this financial sacrifice won’t come as a surprise, and will be something you have been preparing for, for a while now. For many this will all be a heavy blow on your financial security, but it will be an investment, and you will get all of it and much more eventually.

The one’s who need to make a smaller financial sacrifice will be doing so out of kindness. For you, someone close to you will need some help; maybe you’ll have a few birthdays coming up, some other celebrations, or people near you will be in need for some financial blessings due to having come in a tight situation with money.

Pile 2:

You will be sacrificing a lot of time. There will be something great coming onto your path that will take a lot of focus and time. This sacrifice will be something you have been waiting for, but it will be more difficult and time-consuming than you will originally think. Once this opportunity arises make sure to grab it without a second-thought, go for it and chase it with all your might.

For some of you, this might be an application to something such as studies, a school, or a specific club you have been wanting to join. To others of you, you will be approached to do something you have always wanted to do. Think in the direction of being scouted as a model, being asked to audition for something etc. Something that you have been wanting to do or become but is usually really difficult. These opportunities will arise, but will need many sacrifices to actually accomplish.

Pile 3:

You will be sacrificing love in the next couple of months. This doesn’t mean you will lose your partner if you have one, nor does it automatically mean you’ll lose some of your friends and family. Of course, for a couple of you losing some people you love will be what is coming for you; but them leaving will be for the better, since you will find out they have done way more harm than you ever thought.

Some of you will also simply be keeping some distance with the people you love, this could be both physical and mental distance. Maybe you need to focus on something important the next couple of months, maybe you will be going on a vacation and due to that, leaving a couple of people behind in your home country or the city you live in. No matter what will be coming, some space will be created between you and a (or multiple) loved one(s).

[occamstfs]

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready. 

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu” 

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it. 

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R. 

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur. 

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit. 

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?” 

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind. 

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt. 

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!” 

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

[kunasthiast]

Broken Sinks

Petty arguments, silent treatment, and a broken sink. What did happen to you and Sukuna?

a/n: this can be a stand-alone fic bUTTT actually this is in the same universe of – Looting – hshdadhs this is when reader & Sukuna were still in their university days, before they got married

hope you enjoy this one ;) i got carried away with this au hhsdhasd

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, Boyfriend AU, Gamer AU, University AU Word Count: 2,815 All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Well, the bathroom sink is definitely broken. 

Upon realization, both you and your boyfriend couldn’t help but burst out laughing, quickly fleeing the scene of the “crime” and escaping back into the thumping bass and music of the party. You both went to the kitchen to get some punch to cool off yourselves.

“What the fuck happened to my sink?!” Yup, that’s the unmistakable voice of Gojo Satoru echoing from upstairs, his tone clearly a mixture of confusion and frustration.

With a knowing glance exchanged between you and your pink-haired boyfriend, you couldn’t contain your laughter, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle as you continued sipping on your punch.

But, how did it come to this? To the broken sink of Satoru?

Let’s just say it all began with a small argument between you and Sukuna.

—

“Brat, you’re pissing me off. Talk to me.” Sukuna complained as you continue to give him the silent treatment for the past 2-3 days. See, you weren’t even sure when you had started withholding your words.

Rolling your eyes, you continued reading your book, seated at the university courtyard. Still ignoring him. Sukuna, your ever-so-loving boyfriend, didn’t save you in a game you were both playing. 

Yes, you are petty like that.

—

Flashback to 2 days ago…

He told you whilst playing with his phone, “Relax, babe, I’ll save you once I kill this fucker.”

“Any time now, I’ve died over three times already!” You retorted with a sigh and patience running thin, only to glance at the game's map and see Sukuna's character on the other side, saving another teammate instead.

“That’s not me!” You protested in realization, briefly glancing at Sukuna who was lounging beside you on your shared bed, in your shared apartment.

“Just wait, if I let this one die, we’ll lose,” he grumbled, his focus still on his phone as he executed combos for his character.

Frustration bubbled within you, aggravated by his complete disregard for your character being killed yet again just after a few seconds of resurrection. Yes, how petty, you’re currently huffing and sulking over a petty game.

“Okay, you know what, I quit,” you said whilst exiting the game application on your phone and opened Twitter to scroll through your feed and distract yourself. Sukuna looked up from his phone, his brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden outburst.

“What’s wrong, babe?” his voice evidently laced with confusion and concern.

“I’m done playing,” you huffed as you continued scrolling through Twitter. 

Sukuna’s eyes went back to his phone, his voice tinged with annoyance, “What do you mean you’re done playing? We’re in the middle of the game.”

Not feeling his eyes on you anymore, you glanced to look at him with annoyance. You grumbled and decided to get up from the bed and walk towards the kitchen to get some pint of ice cream you stocked in the fridge.

Sukuna momentarily followed your movement with curiosity before focusing back on the game. After a few minutes, the game is over and he made the team win.

Closing his phone, he stood up from the bed to go to where you went to. He arrived at the kitchen to see you eating your mint chocolate ice cream pint while standing near the fridge. 

Sukuna leaned against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed as he watched you indulge in your ice cream pint. There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he observed your determined munching.

“So, ice cream’s the cure to everything now?” He teased, a hint of smirk playing on his lips.

You ignored him and continued scooping a bite from the pint. You’re fighting the urge to not look at him, which is by the way needs a lot of restraint as he’s just leaning there in nothing but his sweatpants, his abs clearly visible and you’re there in his oversized shirt, eating. 

“Baby, come on, don’t get so worked up over a game,” Sukuna said as he pushed himself off the doorway with a chuckle and he walked towards the kitchen drawer to grab a spoon. 

Sukuna approached you and leaned next to you to steal a spoonful of ice cream from your pint. “Still can’t believe mint choco’s your favorite flavor, it tastes like toothpaste,” he complained as he continued stealing spoonfuls.

Still sulking, you groaned and slid the pint to his side and dropped your spoon at the sink. You crossed your arms and gave Sukuna an annoyed glare and left to go back to your shared bedroom to sleep.

Shocked at your continued silence, Sukuna grabbed the pint and brought it back to the freezer after washing your spoons in the sink.

He went back into the bedroom to see you asleep, completely covering yourself in the blanket. Sukuna sighed softly and joined you in the bed. This silent treatment of yours went on for the next 2 days to which is now you and Sukuna at the university courtyard.

—

“You’re still continuing this little game with me? Huh, babe?” Sukuna grunted as he took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up as he stared at your sitting figure.

You’re still ignoring him at this point, best believe you’re too ashamed and prideful to stop your silent treatment with him now all because of a fucking game.

“Yo, cap’n! Got a party at my house tonight, be there with your girl!” Satoru’s voice perked up from the hallways near the courtyard as he yelled it to Sukuna.

As Satoru's invitation echoed through the courtyard, Sukuna glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there,” Sukuna said as he puffs out a smoke from his cigarette.

Satoru gave his captain a grin and disappeared around the corner, announcing to everyone there about his house party tonight.

“Babe, what’s this even about? Is this about the game still?” Sukuna complained as he finishes his cigarette and threw it away. You remained silent, still not willing to break your resolve, but the atmosphere between you and Sukuna had shifted. His frustration was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I get it. I messed up, okay? But is this really worth ignoring each other over?"

You remained stoic, not giving him an inch.

Sukuna took a step closer to you, his expression softening. "I'm sorry, alright? I should've listened to you, and I should've been more considerate. But I want to make things right. Can we please talk about this?"

His words tugged at your heartstrings, but you fought against the urge to relent. Instead, you stood up, your book forgotten on the bench, and began to walk away.

"Babe, wait," Sukuna called after you, his voice pleading. "Don't walk away from me. Let's figure this out together."

But you kept walking, your footsteps echoing in the quiet courtyard as you disappeared from Sukuna's sight. The weight of your decision hung heavy on your shoulders, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn back. It’s your stubbornness and pride.

—

The party pulses with energy, the air thick with laughter and music. Gojo's place is packed with people, bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. Amidst the vibrant crowd, you spot Sukuna, his charismatic presence drawing attention from all around.

He's the football team's captain of your university, of course everyone's attention is on him. Especially girls.

You and Sukuna live together, but you didn’t tell him you’d be at the party. Instead, you came separately, still clinging to your silent treatment. You try to mingle and enjoy yourself, but your eyes keep darting back to Sukuna, watching as girls approach him, flirt, and laugh at his jokes.

You know Sukuna well enough to see he’s not really interested, but the sight of other girls touching him, even casually, stirs a fierce jealousy within you. Finally, one girl touches his arm, and that’s the last straw. You turn and head upstairs, needing to wash your face and cool down.

Just as you’re heading upstairs, Sukuna saw your figure and immediately followed you towards the bathroom. In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You hear the door open and turn to see Sukuna standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and anger.

He locks the door behind him and steps closer, his eyes locked on yours. “We’re sorting this shit out. Now.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply sharply. 

Sukuna's jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. "Quit being stubborn, brat," he retorts, his tone bordering on exasperation.

“Wow, I’m the one being stubborn now?” You retorted and fully aware of your own stubbornness. Yes, you ARE being stubborn. But, you will not admit that to Sukuna.

“Oh my god, for a smart, pretty girl like you how can you be so dense about what you’ve been doing to me?! Stop it already and let’s just sort this shit out,” Sukuna says, running a frustrated hand through his tousled pink hair. God, how you missed touching his hair.

“Now I’m stupid?! You didn’t care about me in that game, and now you’re letting those girls touch you. What’s there to discuss?”

Sukuna scoffs, his voice rising, “That's not what I even said. And, I wasn’t letting them touch me!” He walks toward you, grabbing you by the shoulders and looking you directly in the eye with a dangerous chuckle.

“Funny how you’ve been ignoring me for days over a stupid fucking game. When I got home from practice, you were always asleep, definitely avoiding me. And now, I meet you here, with you so mad over this?”

“Yes!” You shout back, your frustration boiling over. “You never take me seriously! It’s always about what you want!”

Sukuna's grip on your shoulders tightens, his eyes blazing with intensity. "That's not true! I care about you more than anything, but you can't just shut me out whenever you're upset."

"Oh, really?" you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because it sure doesn't feel like it when you ignore me and prioritize your stupid game over me!”

“Oh my fucking god, really?! Over that fucking game when you’re the one who urged me to play it with you?” Sukuna retorts, his voice hard. 

“It’s not just a fucking ga–” you didn’t even finish saying your piece when Sukuna suddenly pulls you closer, his lips crashing down onto yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. The surprise and intensity of it takes your breath away, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to react.

His lips continue their relentless assault on yours, demanding your full attention and affection. His tongue explores your mouth, seeking to taste every inch, claiming you as his own. Finally, you returned back the aggressive kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Every thought of anger or resentment dissolves into the fire burning between you.

With a surge of passion, Sukuna lifts you onto the bathroom sink, your legs wrapping around his hips as he roughly kisses you once more. Pulling away from the kiss, Sukuna complained with a grunt, “Fuck, I missed this. You left me hanging for 2 nights, baby.” 

He directed his kisses on your neck as one of his hands is tangling your hair and the other holding you by the waist. He sucked and left hickeys all over your neck as you continued to moan. 

As Sukuna continues his assaults on your neck, you can’t help but feel so aroused over what just happened and definitely feeling Sukuna’s tight member by your thighs. “You’re so hot when you’re angry,” he continued with a sexy voice.  

"Shut up," you mutter breathlessly, but the fire in your eyes betrays your words.

Sukuna's lips curl into a smirk against your skin. "Make me," he challenges, his voice low and gravelly.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging hard, eliciting a growl from him. He retaliates by biting down gently on your collarbone, making you gasp. The bathroom is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, moans, and the soft thud of your bodies colliding with the sink.

With a swift motion, Sukuna's hands slide under your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes rake over your body, darkened with lust. "God, you're beautiful," he murmurs before capturing your lips again, this time softer, more reverent.

You respond with equal fervor, your hands roaming his toned chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. The tension between you, built up over days of silence and frustration, fuels your passion.

Sukuna's hands begin to explore under your skirt, his touch lingering along your inner thighs as he slowly lifts your skirt up. He has this hungry gaze as left kisses on your thighs and teasing you, “You’re this wet already? All for me.”

He waits for your reaction, watching as the desire in your eyes clouds over with anticipation. He gives a sly smirk and presses closer, the heat of his body radiating against yours. He can practically feel the tension building as he continues to tease you with his fingers, his voice a low growl, "You're killing me here. But I need to hear you say it.”

You nod, breathless and eager, and he wastes no time, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, finding the heat of your desire. His touch is both gentle and commanding, and you arch into him, craving more.

As his fingers work their magic, his lips find yours once again, swallowing your moans. The intensity of the moment, the raw need between you, drives you both to the edge. Sukuna's breath hitches, and he withdraws his fingers, earning a whimper of protest from you.

"Patience, babe," he whispers, his voice husky with need. He frees himself from his pants, his arousal evident and throbbing. God, you can’t still believe that his long, thick dick fits inside you everytime. Positioning himself between your legs, He leans down and takes your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently. He finally asks, "Ready for me?”

You pull him closer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, Sukuna."

With a groan, he thrusts into you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back. Sukuna stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust, but the fire in his eyes shows he's barely holding back.

When you start to move against him, he takes it as a sign, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Each rough thrust sends waves of ecstasy through you, and you cling to him, lost in the rhythm you create together. The bathroom fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intense, intimate, aggressive connection.

The sink beneath you creaks ominously, but neither of you pays it any mind, too consumed by the fire burning between you. Your breaths mingle, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, chasing the climax that hovers just out of reach.

With one final, powerful thrust, Sukuna sends you both over the edge, your cries of release mingling with his. The world seems to shatter and rebuild around you, leaving you trembling and spent in each other's arms. 

Coming down from the high, you can't help but laugh softly, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. “Oh my god, that was hot,” you say, your voice shaky with aftershocks.

Sukuna chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We should fight a lot," he snickers, his hands caressing your back soothingly.

You laughed, feeling the tension and frustration of the past few days melt away. “Fuck you, honey,” you said as you pushed him off of you and started fixing your skirt.

Sukuna smirked, adjusting his pants. “Will gladly fuck you again, baby,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Still perched on the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “You’re impossible,” you teased, smoothing out your clothes. 

Sukuna chuckles softly, offering you a hand to help you down from the sink. You accept his gesture, grateful for the support as you both examine the damage you've caused. The sink bears a noticeable crack, a testament to the intensity of your hot session.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Sukuna remarks, a wry grin playing on his lips as he surveys the scene.

You nod in agreement, a mixture of amusement and apprehension washing over you. "We should probably get out of here before Gojo finds out," you suggest, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Sukuna grins, kissing you one last time. "Agreed. But let's do this again sometime, minus the broken sink."

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Deal."

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Halsin and Silvanus

In the course of my recent research on Bane for a lore request fill, I found myself coming across a lot of very interesting information, previously unknown to me, about the other gods of the Forgotten Realms — in particular Silvanus. There was enough there that it inspired me to direct some extra research hours into this writeup, exploring all the reasons why Halsin is a quintessential Silvanite.

If you would like any more information on anything included here, please feel free to drop a comment or an ask, as there is truly so much that I just don’t have the space to include. (I usually end up with about 12-13 pages of source quotes before I begin one of these meta posts.)

My usual note that, as ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

Silvanus is easily one of the most misunderstood gods of the Faerûnian pantheon. This is even pointed out directly within his section of the 3.5e Faiths & Pantheons (an incredible resource if you are looking for more detailed information on the gods of the Forgotten Realms!): 

Nevertheless, most outsiders view the church of Chauntea, as patrons of agriculture, as being favorably inclined toward the expansion of civilization, while the church of Silvanus is the implacable foe of those who would settle new lands. Neither impression is correct, yet the church of the Oak Father is often perceived as little different from those faiths that venerate the Deities of Fury.¹ [emphasis added]

Silvanus is most often perceived as strictly and impassively neutral, and intrinsically opposed to civilization in all its forms. While the former is something close to true – he is a very neutral-aligned deity, albeit not necessarily in a way that matches the popular conception of the term – the latter is certainly not. Humanity (if you’ll forgive the use of the term to designate in broad strokes the non-animal denizens of the Material Plane) is another facet of nature, one given equal consideration to the rest – plant, animal, and other – by Silvanus.²

While as a whole followers of Silvanus have a preference for the wilds and the deep forests, this is by no means a concrete rule. In fact, Silvanite clergy – those known as druids – are not uncommonly found in enclaves in larger cities of the Sword Coast and beyond, including Waterdeep.² Typically these druids will “create gardenlike walled areas of wild forest within the city limits.”¹ Wherever they may find themselves, Silvanite druids work to maintain the Balance of nature around them, through education and direct action both. 

Silvanus’s dogma has much to tell us about his philosophy, and that of his followers. I’ll be splitting notable excerpts and their relation to Halsin into sections below. 

Hold your distance and take in the total situation, rather than latching on to the popular idea of what is best.¹ 

Halsin was, from the first moment I met him in-game, so notable for his calm self-possession, and the clear forethought he gave to his actions and those of others. He does not feel bound by the expectations or approval of others – as noted in the dialogue he shares with the player if they compliment his choice of successor – but instead makes his own path following the direction of Silvanus’s wisdom and will. 

Resort to violence and open confrontation only when pressured by time or hostile action.¹

This is showcased numerous times throughout the game, but perhaps best evidenced by an in-game note, from an unlikely source: the Priestess Gut. The note that you can find from her, regarding Halsin’s capture, notes the following: 

Said he thinks there's somethin' rotten inside us. Inside me. Reckons he can help get rid of the rot. I told him we don't need any help from nobody. Never did. And especially not now the Absolute's taken a shine to us.³

Despite the immediacy of his capture at their hands, and the preceding attack already lodged against himself and Nettie⁴, Halsin’s primary impulse is to attempt diplomacy, and render aid. This only changes when his length of captivity has made it clear that there will be no changing the minds of the cultists, and they must be dissuaded by stronger means.

Banish disease wherever you find it¹

The way Halsin is first introduced to the player is as a healer – and not just any healer, but a masterful one, known throughout the region, who has the best chance of being able to assist with any manner of strange ailment. It is clear in all ways, as well as in the scenario referenced in the preceding section, that this is an aspect of Silvanus that Halsin strives to embody at all times. 

Seek out, serve, and befriend the dryads and learn their names.¹

Particularly if we understand the reference to dryads here to extend to all fey spirits of nature, this gives new depth to Halsin’s friendship and devotion to the nature spirit Thaniel. Halsin, as a druid generally, and as an Archdruid in particular, would have a solemn and divinely-ordained responsibility to redress the upheaval of the Balance within the Shadowcursed lands. For that reason alone, it is no surprise that it was his primary motivation and consideration for nigh on a century. 

However, even above and beyond that, Halsin had an additional motivator. Even before he became a druid, potentially before he was exposed to the teachings of Silvanus in anything but the most vague and general of terms, he was living them out by befriending the local nature spirit, learning his name, and seeking to understand, serve, and protect him. 

Make others see the balance and work against those that would disturb it. Watch, anticipate, and quietly manipulate.¹

The primary source text I am using to draw this connection was written neither by nor about Halsin, yet I believe it still clearly reflects on him, for reasons that will become clear. This text is from a logbook recording activities of the Emerald Grove during the year 1371, 121 years prior to the start of the game’s storyline, and some years before the defining events in the soon-to-be Shadowcursed Lands. 

6 Uktar: Sent two druids, some of the newer recruits, up north. Village there has had two years of failed crops and are unlikely to survive the next winter. 9 Uktar: A group from Baldur's Gate arrived. They've set up camp on the edge of the forest. Two bears and a fox came by. Their territory has been burned out. Half the fox's cubs died. Paying this new group a visit tomorrow. 10 Uktar: Visit did not go well. After telling me where to shove it, they said they'd cut down half the forest and burn out any wildlife that dared to stick around. Claimed they were going to 'farm the land and make a new city of their own.' Time to get creative. 12 Uktar: Mudslide did the trick. Buried half their farming equipment and made the rest useless. They won't be back any time soon. Got reports of a Red Wizard in the village south of here. Sending three rangers to investigate. If they catch even a whiff of a red cloak, I'm contacting the House of Silvanus.⁵

Given the timeline, while this is unlikely to have been written by Halsin himself, it seems like a strong possibility that it was written by his master, the previous Archdruid of the Emerald Grove, who perished in the fight against Ketheric Thorm. This is supported by the clear evidence that the author was an individual in a position to give direction and command to those around them, and to make the call for how to deal with various situations. Given too what we know of the druidic leadership structure, Halsin would have been the previous Archdruid’s Second, as Kagha was his.⁶ 

This man, then, would have greatly influenced Halsin as a druid of Silvanus and as a leader both. We can presume that this watchful duty and deliberation was one that Halsin himself took over, charged with doing his part to maintain the Balance of the region around the grove.  This last point especially becomes even more significant in light of the following information, which comes not from Silvanus’s dogma, but rather from a description of his followers and traditions of worship: 

Members of the clergy work to redirect development and control populations through covert sponsorship of brigands, breeding and selective placing of predators, and other means. It is essential that such work be as secretive as possible, so that most folk view the servants of Silvanus as essentially benign lovers of trees. Wildlife breeding, nursing sick animals, and replanting trees and wild shrubs are all work that should be done as publicly as possible to support this perception – and as necessary work to redress the slipping Balance, of course.¹ [emphasis added]

It is clear from all preceding evidence, and this excerpt in particular, that the druids as a whole put far more thought and strategy into every aspect of their appearance and the perception of them than they would ever want outsiders to become aware of. Halsin himself corroborates this in-game, noting that, while druids might not like politicking, that certainly does not mean they haven’t the skill for it when called upon. 

For the sake of… well. (I have been advised by my legal counsel not to use “brevity” here.) Regardless! For the sake of my sanity and your time, I will refrain from going into further detail on specific instances that show this to be true of Halsin. I will merely encourage you, the reader, to consider the value this brings to his character and druids as a whole, and hope to encourage new appreciation for their refreshing complexity. 

In closing, I leave you with one final quote: 

Superior patience, natural knowledge, and anticipation are the hallmarks of a worthy servant of Silvanus.¹

¹ Faiths and Pantheons. 2002. p. 63.

² Dragon Magazine #412. June 2012. pp. 22-3.

³ Rancid Note. In-Game Text. 

⁴ Halsin’s Journal, Vol I. In-Game Text. 

⁵ Logbook XII: 1371. In-Game Text. 

⁶ Grove Annals. In-Game Text.

[chaosandmarigolds]

okay it has been the longest time since I've asked for a request but I freaking LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE!! So I have a Simon riley request. You can really run off with my idea and write it however you want but Ive had an idea in my head about Simon and the reader adopting because reader or Simon can't have kids and I want to know how he'd handle a kid who's probably been thru some stuff to end up in the foster/adopting system.

ANYWAYS ILYSM keep up your amazing work 😍😍

(no cause I actually screamed omg thank you so much for your kind words they truly mean the world to me <333 )

Adoption! Simon Riley Who had zero doubt on that he wanted children with you, even though he was terrified of failing them he wanted to try

Simon Riley! Who took you to all of the doctors appointments and the testing and the trails and never once mentioned how expensive it is

Simon Riley who was probably the only person a bit more crushed than you when the doctor told you both that it wouldn't be possible to have children of your own.

Simon Riley who let the matter go under the radar for a few months before you walk into the bedroom, tablet to chest

"i'm gonna say something and I need you to be open to it."

He blinks a few times as he sets his book down on his lap, "Should I be scared?"

"No. But..." You hold out the tablet, showing him the adoption application you had half filled out, "I mean there's thousands of kids who-who need a family an-and-"

"Finish it up, why don't ya- lemme get the bank statements, yeah?"

Simon Riley! who would rather go back on deployment than have more people walk through his home while making judgments on if it was 'child friendly'

Simon Riley! Who sat up with you every time you were waiting for an update, watching easy going bake shows on the sofa with the laptop email service open on the coffee table in front of you

Simon Riley! Who was a little bit disgusted when the agent sat you both down with the files of children in need, because he did have half a mind to just take them all

"Now I know you both told me you were looking for a baby, and I understand that however the waitlist for that is incredibly long and ultimately it is the mother's choice in that situation," The agent's eyes go to Simon, almost as if to say 'no mother would ever choose that' and she pushes the file to you, "And I always push for the adoption of some of the older kids. There's no pressure."

Your eyes narrow to the folders in front of you and you gulp down, hands shakily going to the folder in front of you and pulling it to your lap, all the while you could tell Simon was just still a little confused by the statement the agent had made before. However, you humored it, flipping through the photos and the tragic backstories that made your eyes water, until you open one that caught your attention, two children sat in the photoinsteadd of one.

Name: Macey-Ann Adams

Age: 11 years

Name: Taylor Kate Adams

Age: 24 months

"Si..." You didn't tell that your voice was muffled by a bit of tears and you hold the file over to your husband, who looked over the pictures, taking you slight interest. So he lightly takes the file and then looks up at the agent.

"These two?" He speaks as softly as he was able to.

The agent looks at the file and then a frown appears on her face, "Macey, she...she's a troubled girl, on her fourth foster home, and she's jumping schools, I would not recommend her."

with a shuttered breath you breath out, "But...but she's just a kid- can...can we meet her and Taylor?"

Simon Riley did extensive research as soon as he got home, finding the articles from the local newspaper on the two girls who were so severely abused by their father that they wouldn't look the police officer in the eye

Simon Riley who was beginning to think it wouldn't be a good idea until they met the girls at the local park

Simon Riley who saw so much of himself in that little girl it made him almost puke

Simon Riley who got over himself when he saw your beaming face as you held Taylor, helping her get the cherry blossom from the tree

Simon Riley who would be lying if he said he wasn't estatic when you were approved for the adoption

Simon Riley who tried to get to know Macey but the girl was quiet, self suffiecnt, she was him

"You're taking Taylor." Macey mutters as she sits on the swing, watching you with her baby sister

Simon squints against the sun and sits down in the swing beside her, and then he looks to you, a smile on his lips for a moment, "Not jus' her."

To that the eleven year old looks at him, a frown on her face, "What? People want babies. Taylor is a baby."

There was a long silence and Simon looked down at his boots, "You like trampolines?"

Macey blinked, "I do."

"Gonna buy you a trampoline for the backyard when the court says it's all over."

Another pause, "You're taking both of us?"

"Figured you'd wanna stay with your lil' sis."

"I-kinda....thanks, Mister Riley."

"Simon. You can call me Simon, or...whatever you wan, and' we gotta get a move on your sister was wan'n a ice cream."

Simon Riley! Who takes careful care in helping Macey unpack

Simon Riley! Who takes the girls shopping every weekend until he thinks they have everything they need

Simon Riley! Who loves his girls more than anything else in the world

( I hope this is good and honestly this is so cute I may write a more in-depth one shot type of thing. Comments and feedback make my day! annnd yeah! that's it <33

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 1: Flickering Lights

Chapter (2)

True Form Sukuna x fem!reader

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence!

Tags under the cut and will be updated over the course of writing!

Summary: On a sad friday night, you’re finishing your last email for your job, as suddenly The King of Curses appears through a rip of space in time in your office. A change of everyday life perhaps?

Notes:

Welcome to Flickering Lights!

I hope you will enjoy <3

The -play- cues or underlined texts are linked to the specific songs she’s listening to, however I didn’t time the songs with reading time, since everyone of us reads at a different pace. I hope you’ll have fun anyway. :)

Tags:

_

clack clack clack clack

The harsh sound of your fingers hitting against the keys on your keyboard is reaching your ears, as you’re finishing the last email for the day.

The day, which will end in about 10 minutes. 

It’s friday, 11:50 p.m. and you’re still in the office tower you work in. 

Alone. An odd occasion, since this situation is not unusual in your field of work. Harsh deadlines require overtime. 

Often.

Too often.

But today, your co-workers must have had something better to do. It’s friday after all.

And you wish you had the guts to do that, too.

Flickering lights from the illuminated advertisements from outside the streets are dancing in the corners of your eye. Your only company tonight.

And you blink. With a sigh, you look to the window to your right, having Tokyo looking right back at you.

Sometimes, you wish you would have the time to flee this place, your office, your life. To actually enjoy those lights, to experience something. To not give your life up for your job.

To feel not as lonely. Lonely in this city of millions.

A longing deep in your heart.

But-

I gotta pay my fucking bills, you think, as you sigh another time, before turning back to your computer. The light on your desk makes your eyes tired and before you finish your email, you go into your music library on your phone and put on your headphones. A ritual you almost do on every overtime night. It gives you energy. Almost a prayer to whoever listens. Someday something must happen. 

Right?

-play-

How can you see into my eyes like open doors? 

Leading you down into my core 

Where I've become so numb …

Your blood starts pumping and the hairs on your body stand up, as the song crawls through your veins. 

Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

Until you find it there and lead it back home …

Your body starts moving on its own, you move your head and lips in sync to the song. It gives you energy to finish this last fucking email before the chorus hits. 

And you slam your middle finger on enter.

Send!

(Wake me up) wake me up inside (I can′t wake up), wake me up inside

(Save me) call my name and save me from the dark

Oh my god.

You feel it. The song hits your core so deep and you turn the volume even louder. Singing both parts at the same time in your head, you let yourself go.

(Wake me up) bid my blood to run (I can't wake up) before I come undone

(Save me) save me from the nothing I've become

Flickering lights hit the corners of your eyes, bass in your heart, as you lip sync quietly, but passionately, while you close all your remaining applications on your desktop. 

You would not want to risk someone, anyone, to actually hear you singing.

Suddenly the bass gets unusual heavy, but you love it. You feel the song even harder.

Adios Bitchatchos. See you on monday, you think to yourself, as you notice a glitch on your desktop. 

Another one. 

And another one. 

The light on your desk flickers as well. You frown in confusion, but brush it off as a “monday me” problem and shut down your computer. Standing up, still moving and lipsynching to the song, you lean forward to turn off the monitors, as the bass grows even heavier.

Weird. Those headphones only cost me like 5000 yen-

Wrrrrmmmm!

Suddenly the ground vibrates and your knees give in. You grab yourself onto the desk, as an energy pulls you down. Pulls you down to your knees and almost cuts the air off your lungs and nose. You gasp, as the ground starts to vibrate and jitter even harder. Bring Me To Life still pounds into your ears, so dramatically, as you feel your vision blurring and glitching, as the light on your desk finally says goodbye, leaving you in total darkness of the office space. Looking around you don’t see anyone, start to get scared.

What’s happening?? An earthquake?

The vibrations are sent through your whole body, your blood tingles in your veins, just in time for your favourite part of the song.

Frozen (frozen) inside without your touch, without your love

Darling, only (only) you are the life among the dead …

Just in this moment, the technology of your cheap ass headphones gives in and sends an incredibly loud beep to your ears, distorting the wonderful voice of Amy Lee.

Fuck!

You yell in pain and yank the headphones off your head, just before a loud grunge noise echoes through the room, makes it vibrate even more, makes you push your hands over your ears. All the other monitors are shutting on and off and on and off and glitching and blinking. 

Zschhhh!

Suddenly a blue glowing light crawls into the air in the split of a second, like a lightning strike and it starts to tear apart. A gap ripped into the air of the office space, just a few desks next to yours.

What the fuck?

You don’t believe your eyes, as a tall shadow starts to appear in the gap that just opened, before it steps forward, red eyes glowing through the dark, while the rap part starts to roar through the headphones in the background.

All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see

Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me

I′ve been sleeping a thousand years, it seems

Got to open my eyes to everything

Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul

Don′t let me die here, there must be something more

Br-riing m-m-me t-tt-to l-lifeeee-…

And with this your headphones die, leaving you alone with… 

Who is this?

Tap. 

Tap. Tap.

Feet step into your office and you slide beneath your desk. The vibrations grow harder, the energy heavier, as the gap seems to close back up, almost pulling you completely to the ground.

Whoom!

And suddenly-

it’s all silent.

Quiet.

Calm.

You don’t know what to do. 

Hide? Say something? 

Still on the ground, you let your hands leave your ears and watch below the desks. Two massive feet, covered in tabi socks and wearing ancient looking sandals, quietly walk into your direction. 

Flickering lights dance upon the ground and onto the moving clothes. Your heart is racing and you put your hand upon your mouth to be as silent as possible, as the person walks closer and closer. Another step and they will pass your desk, will see you sitting there like a little baby, not knowing what the fuck just happened. 

And finally he walks into your vision, not even offering you a glance. A tall man, a black cloak around his shoulders, covering his upper arms and parts of his chest. A white hakama sitting on his waist. Pink hair, four red eyes, simple tattooed lines on his face and wrists and chest. A mask is covering the right side of his face. 

Why does he look like a villain? 

Your eyes widen at the man in front of you.

He’s built like a tank.

With a smug smirk, he steps in front of the window facade, looking down onto the streets of Tokyo. 

“Keh Keh Keh.” he giggles.

Such a devious voice.

You watch him suspiciously, watch how the lights illuminate his face, unsure if he’s seen you yet or knows that you’re here.

His eyes roam around the streets and his expression grows excited. So excited.

“What a view.” he quietly smiles, before he taps against the window with his nail.

Tap. Tap.

The glass sounds firm.

He looks up, musters the framing and cocks his eyebrow and pouts his lips. 

You frown at him. Confused, because he looks like he’s never seen a proper window before. 

“It’s shatterproof glass.” you suddenly say quietly, still curled up beneath your desk. He freezes, as his left ear twitches, before his eyes and finally his head slowly move and turn to look at you and your eyes meet.

Silence.

Shit.

He glares at you, looking like an evil villain indeed. His red eyes glow in the dark and pierce right at you, as you feel his demon-like energy reach you, looking right at your soul, so deep and intimidating, as if your eyes are truly only a window to your mind. 

And you’re about to pee your pants.

“You uhm.” you point your trembling finger at the glass. “You can’t fall through it… b-because it’s. You know… shatterproof.” you stumble quietly, before you crawl out from beneath your desk and grab your jacket, phone and dead headphones. “It… doesn’t sh-shatter.” 

He stays silent, so silent, as suddenly a second pair of arms reveal themselves from under his cloak and cross in front of his torso.

And you can’t help but to stare in shock and confusion at his arms, tattooed chest and his flexing muscles, as you’re being hit by his degrading energy at the very same time. You are so overwhelmed by anything and everything, that you can’t help but to think that-

It’s almost as if-

He rolls his eyes and turns his face back to the window. The silence crushes you and the look on his face is still so intimidating, as he suddenly flicks the finger, that previously tapped against the glass.

BrrshhZschinnggg! 

The glass of a window shatters into a thousand pieces and with an incredible force, like an invisible blade, the energy cuts through everything in it’s way, leaving a track of loud destruction and cuts a furrow into the floor, your computer and the wall a few yards behind you. 

Bamm!

So close to you, that you even think you lost some hair. You feel the impact shatter in your bones.

“Is that so?” he grumbles in a deep, unimpressed voice, with his left bottom eye watching you. Your heart almost stops- waiting for the alarm to go off…

but it doesn’t. 

Yup, out we go.

Before he can do anything more your body moves on its own. 

A breeze from outside and the sounds of the street are blowing in through the broken window. You twitch a forced smile at him, before you tipple your way between the desks and out of the office space.

With a racing heart you run to the staircase, as the lights in the dark hallway flicker above your head, fighting to get back on. But they don’t. They die down again, leaving you in utter darkness. With a hitching breath, you pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight, as you tipple your way to take the stairs. Not just because the elevator is probably down as well, but to calm down. No elevator ride could soothe the adrenaline in your body right now. 

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap

Down the stairs, five stories, until you arrive at the entry hall, seeing the security guard at the reception table in the dark. Cursing under his breath, his face is illuminated by a flashlight on his desk, while he’s being busy to tap onto his monitors and to smash on the keyboard to get the cameras back on screen.

That creature must’ve caused a total blackout. 

The security guard doesn’t mind or even notice you walking by, so you take the chance to quickly walk to the front door with no air in your lungs and sweat in your armpits. You catch a look onto the still busy streets. 

Did someone from outside notice?

People are walking, no one is looking. 

Sigh. 

Thank god.

You carefully slip through the front door and see a few broken glass pieces onto your left. Quickly, you cross the street, melting into the groups of people, vanishing behind many faces, looking down to your feet and hoping nobody from outside caught you leaving the building. To calm your panic, you first buy yourself a coke on the next vending machine. 

Psssshh.

Sip. Sip. Sip.

Sigh.

Better.

You inhale, before you slowly turn around, looking up to your office on the fifth floor, where you were a few minutes ago, curious what the fuck just happened there. 

Flickering lights and advertisements mirror themselves on the remaining not-so-shatterproof glass, leaving a black hole on the one that indeed shattered. You can’t see him. 

He might be gone. 

But… it wasn’t a dream, was it? 

You put on your headphones and try to connect them back to your phone.

Maybe the building got struck by a lightning, while I was knee deep into feeling Amy Lee’s voice.

No. Nothing.

Dead.

Shit, you think to yourself as another rush of adrenaline flows through your veins. 

That was exciting… 

You bite your lip.

Maybe my prayers were heard.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Week #1 Prompt: Short Shorts | Word Count: 1469 | Rating: M | Pairing: Steddie | Characters: Eddie, Steve, Robin | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: Post S4, Everybody Lives, Eddie POV, Platonic Stobin, Silliness, Fluff, Hair Removal, Getting Together, Blame it on Nair Fumes

Letting himself inside, Eddie looks around, and the house seems empty, even if Steve's car is in the driveway. He pauses, and he's pretty sure he hears the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.

"Hey! Steve?!" Eddie screams, and waits. Nothing.

So, he climbs the staircase, and that's when he hears that the music is coming from the bathroom. He can also hear Steve and Robin talking, arguing, laughing.

When he gets to the doorway, he's very confused.

Very, very confused.

"What exactly is going on here?" Eddie asks, looking back and forth between Steve and Robin, both standing in the bathroom, wearing short shorts, white lotion slathered all over their legs, "And what's that smell?"

Eddie pulls his shirt up over his nose. It smells like some of the chemicals that Wayne sometimes comes home smelling like after a shift at the plant.

It's caustic. Burning his eyes and nose.

Robin wiggles her leg in his direction, "Nair."

"Hold still!" Steve chides her, trying to get her to stop moving without messing up the application.

"Nair," Eddie repeats.

"Nair," Steve confirms.

"And…"

"Who wears short shorts? We wear short shorts! If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!" Robin and Steve both sing-song together, loudly, over the already loud music, waving their arms, legs kicking up together into a kickline, the idea of not moving around, obviously long forgotten.

And, oh. Steve's limber. 

Flexible, and Eddie has thoughts he's not supposed to be having right now. 

He feels insane as he reaches over and turns the music down, maybe a first, in his whole lifetime. He's not supposed to be the normal one in any situation. This is wrong. So wrong.

Like, he gets it. He watches TV. He knows what Nair is. Sort of. In theory. He definitely knows the commercial jingle. But he doesn't understand why this is happening right now. He thought they were going swimming. Not, whatever this is.

"You're using Nair? Why?" Eddie asks, because it smells like something that shouldn't be used by humans without proper ventilation. Maybe gas masks. 

"Robin was curious, so I'm showing her how to do it," Steve says, like that's a normal thing for him to say.

"Okay, sure. Of course. New question, why do you know how to do it?" Eddie asks, as he mourns the loss of Steve's leg hair, that Steve is currently in the process of burning off with that eye-wateringly stinky cream. 

"Swim team," Steve says, like that's an explanation. It's not. It's really, really not.

"Swim team," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, for like, all that aerodynamic shit," Steve says, and Eddie can't help it. He smiles. 

The kitchen timer dings, loud and shrill, in the small room. 

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, leaning against the door jam, watching as Steve wipes the cream off of Robin's legs with a washcloth. Then forces her legs into the tub, one at a time, as he rinses them off. And Eddie can't tell if it worked or not, it's not like Robin's legs were all that hairy to begin with, at least not as far as he's ever noticed. 

But, Steve. Steve's legs are hairy, just like the rest of him, and Eddie's curious. Morbidly, so.

Robin is running her hand over her legs, and Eddie watches as Steve just stands there, grinning at her.

"See?!" Steve says, excited.

Then she coughs.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Robin declares, and Eddie wishes she'd bring a little in for the rest of them, honestly. This bathroom needs a window, desperately.

After she goes, Eddie looks back at Steve, "What about yours?"

"Takes a little longer, my hair is way more thick and coarse than hers," Steve says.

And, yeah it is.

Eddie doesn't want to admit, even to himself, what he thinks about all that body hair Steve has.  But he definitely has thoughts about it. Lots and lots of thoughts.

"I'll do you next," Steve teases.

"The hell you will. I like my leg hair right where it is, Harrington."

"Suit yourself then," Steve says dryly, and he finally starts wiping down his own legs. 

And yeah, he's losing hair up to his knee. Well, some of the hair. A little of it. Honestly, it seems very hit and miss as he wipes it away. Most of his leg hair just looks a little melted, singed, curled. 

Damaged, not removed.

"Is it not working?" Eddie asks, curious what the plan is here.

"Well, it's not perfect," Steve laughs, and it looks pretty bad, but Steve doesn't seem to care, as he adds onto his thought with a breezy, "Oh well."

"Are you just gonna leave it like that?" Eddie asks. Because, honestly. No.

Steve just shrugs, "I guess I could shave them."

And Eddie is pretty sure his brain short circuits, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is totally against his will, "Can I shave them for you?"

Steve stops, looks at him, then laughs, shrugging his shoulders, "Sure. Okay."

Eddie isn't sure why he asked that, and he feels like his cheeks are on fire. Steve reaches into the medicine cabinet, producing a razor and a can of shaving cream, handing them both to Eddie. Then he plugs the tub, runs some water, and wets his legs with a washcloth, before sitting down on the closed toilet seat. 

Oh shit. 

Shit, shit, shit.

"You want me to…?" Eddie asks, trailing off, waving his hand holding the shaving cream towards Steve's legs.

"You're the one that asked," Steve says, teasing him.

Eddie swallows, kneeling in front of Steve, squeezing some of the shaving foam onto his palm, and then runs it up Steve's leg, applying it, stopping when he gets to the knee.

Steve pulls up on his shorts, his already very short shorts, making them even more indecent, "Might as well go on up."

Eddie's dick twitches at the idea, but he nods, getting some more shaving cream and rubbing it up onto Steve's thighs.

Then he holds the razor in a slightly shaky hand, "You sure you want me to do this?"

Steve shrugs, "It'll grow back."

Eddie nods. That's not exactly what he was asking, but he grips Steve's foot in his hand, and starts running the razor upwards, gently. Trying to be careful. One stripe in, he leans over and rinses the blade off in the tub, looking back up at Steve's face. 

And then keeps shaving, getting everything off his lower legs, before pausing, then just forges ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He puts Steve's heel on his shoulder, giving him access to the underside of his thigh, and he's fully hard in his own shorts now, and he really hopes Steve won't notice. He's sure this isn't supposed to be that. He's not supposed to be getting off on this.

But he is. He really, really is.

He's such a goddamn pervert. 

Then he sees it. The hard line of Steve's cock, pressing against his shorts. His tight shorts.

Eddie drops the razor. It clatters to the tile, and he laughs nervously as he reaches to pick it up.

What is he doing? What are they doing right now? It's madness. It's the fumes. They've gone to their heads. They've lost critical brain function, the both of them. That must be it. It's the only explanation. 

Robin turns back up in the doorway, and they both turn and look at her. It must look crazy, Eddie between Steve's thighs, his leg hoisted up, covered in shaving cream.

"Oh, ew. No," she says, and disappears just as fast as she'd arrived, slamming the door behind her as she goes. 

Steve chuckles, and Eddie gets back to work. Shaving, rinsing. Over and over, until Steve's legs are both bare. 

It's weird, but Eddie can't help himself, and he runs his hand up Steve's calf, slow. Exploring. 

And Steve moans. 

Oh, goddamn. 

Eddie suddenly raises up on his knees, sending Steve backwards, off-balance, falling against the toilet tank. 

"Am I reading this wrong?" Eddie asks, chest heaving. Both of his hands clutching Steve's wet, smooth thighs.

Steve shakes his head, pupils blown wide, and Eddie runs his hand up, cupping Steve through his short shorts. Leaning forward, pressing against Steve, contorting Steve's body, as Eddie leans close enough to kiss him.

And he does, lips barely brushing, lightly, and it isn't lost on Eddie that he put his hand on Steve's dick before they even kissed. 

Steve leans forward, surging into him, kissing back. Hand coming up to press against the back of Eddie's head, pulling him closer. 

And Eddie's sure he'll die right here, for real this time.

If not from the lingering toxic fumes, definitely from Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: There are lots of different versions of the Nair "short shorts" commercials, but here's one from the 70s, if you're unfamiliar.

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 1

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’, you decide to check it out. 

Chapter One: Of Breakups and New Housing

You’re sitting on the curb next to several suitcases and trash bags full of your belongings, feeling humiliated as cars pass by. You can’t fucking believe you thought it would be a good idea to rent an off campus apartment with your boyfriend—well, now ex-boyfriend, of three years. It’s not even a full two months into the semester and you both already decided to call it quits. Things had been rocky over the summer to begin with, but you hoped living together would fix it. 

You were wrong. And stupid for letting him put only his name on the lease.

So what are you gonna do now? You can’t call your parents, they told you this was a bad idea from the start. You can’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right. Your friends are all in the dorms and, sure, you can crash with them for a couple nights but you need to find something for the remainder of the year. 

You take out your phone, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes as you start looking for somewhere to live. A one bedroom apartment by yourself is completely out of the monthly budget your parents send. You’ll have to settle on a room or some sort of shared living environment. 

Your scrolling stops when you see a post that says ‘FREE IN-HOUSE STAY’. You click on it to read more. 

FREE IN-HOUSE STAY

It’s that time of year again. The members of Sigma Kappa Zeta (SKZ) have beds to fill. Stay will be free of charge, however there are stipulations. Further details will be provided in person. Send a direct message if you’re interested and we will provide the interview date.

You’ve heard of the SKZ fraternity in passing, but never participated much in Greek life on campus. The post feels a little sketchy, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you send the email anyways. If you can pocket the money your parents are sending and stay somewhere for free, maybe you can turn this shitty situation around in your favor. 

You receive an email the following day that advises you to fill out an NDA and an application complete with a picture of yourself. You also go to a nearby clinic to complete a drug test and various other checks. Your interest in the ad is piqued, but the night spent on the floor of your friends dorm encourages you to pursue it.   

Two days later you find yourself standing outside of the SKZ house with ten other women. The house is in a gated community and sits on a pretty large lot, enough room between it and the next that neighbors probably didn’t mind a bunch of college students staying there. It’s a three-story home and not too far from campus, maybe a thirty minute walk. 

At 1:00pm the door opens and a tall, kinda lanky boy with a slender face greets you all. His eyebrows and most of his eyes are hidden behind his bangs, but he dons a welcoming smile. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt with ΣΚΖ written across the chest in green letters. 

“Please, come in,” he says, gesturing for you all to enter. 

You all huddle in the foyer and he closes the door when the last girl enters before leading you into the living room. There’s a large, navy blue sectional where you all sit. When he exits the room, you fold your hands in your lap and cross your legs, shaking your nerves out through your foot. as you wait for whatever is about to happen.

You hear footsteps coming down the hall and eight men enter the room. If your life were a movie (it most definitely isn’t, you’re sleeping on a floor, remember?), this scene would play out in slow motion. They exude an air of confidence and nonchalance all at the same time. They’re all of similar heights, with hair color ranging from black to blonde, some are lanky, some are muscular—one is flat-out buff, and they’re all Korean. They’re…handsome? The word doesn’t feel like it suffices, though. Each and every one of them are breathtaking in a way that feels completely unfair and makes you question why you’re even there. 

They spread out in a line in front of the TV mounted on the wall opposite the sectional. They’re all wearing the same thing—jeans and the black shirt with their fraternity initial across the front. 

“Thank you for coming here today, ladies,” one of them starts to speak with a light Australian accent. 

As your eyes focus on him, he looks familiar. He’s in one of your classes. He seemed rather quiet and reserved in class, but here he’s easily taking charge and leading the situation. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment and he offers a tight-lipped half-smile and nod. 

“I’m Chan,” he continues. “The is Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin.”

Each member waves as he gestures to them and says their name. Seungmin is the one who had opened the door. 

“We’re sure you’re curious as to what our post entails…let me explain.” Chan begins. “Here at Sigma Kappa Zeta, we strongly pursue the strongest version of ourselves. We work hard, study hard, and play hard. We want all of our members to be at their best at all times. We cannot achieve the goals and dreams we have if we are weak in any area. Which brings us to having you here today.”

Your eyes dart to the other men standing in the line, but it’s impossible to read their expressions. 

“We are looking for four women to reside in our home. Your duties will be cooking and cleaning for the household, and pleasing the members you are assigned to.” 

You can only blink as you stare at him. Assigned to? And did he say please the members? Does he mean fuck?

“We believe that with these essential needs met,” he continues without missing a beat. As if he hasn’t just uttered something completely scandalous. “Our members will be free to flourish and earn our spots next to our SKZ predecessors.” 

He stops for a moment and steps forward from the others.

 “I know how this sounds. Misogynistic. Throughout the many years of this tradition, it has proved to work in our Stays’ favor as well, though. You’ll have your needs met, less stress and many Stays have reported a boost in their overall happiness and confidence.” He says. “We know you are students, too, and we don’t want to impede on your education or your own personal goals. That being said, it’s not a position suitable for everyone, we know that. We also know, that should you choose to participate, you will have an invaluable sense of community throughout your time here. You will have free room and board, and be allowed time to focus on your own success. Any resources we have access to can be yours as well.”

He claps his hands together.

“Now that you know what this entails, please remain seated if you’re still interested. If not, kindly exit—but we would like to remind you of the NDA you signed.”

He pauses for a beat. Two girls stand and promptly exits the home. You stay rooted in your seat. You’re a decent cook. You can clean. You think you could be a good fit for the position. You’ve also been with the same guy since your freshman year, so the prospect of experiencing something new in any capacity intrigues you. And honestly, right now, a free bed sounds more tantalizing than the floor, doesn’t it? You subconsciously roll out the kink in your neck at the thought. 

“Eight of you still here,” he says with a nod. “We’ll call each of you up, you’ll introduce yourself, walk past each member, then take your seat. We will then leave to deliberate. When we come back, we’ll let you know which of you are staying and who you’re assigned to.”

You shift around in your seat and nod your head. Chan steps back in line and calls the first name. You watch as each girl walks in front of the men, wondering what’s going through their head—what are they looking for exactly? 

When you hear your name called, your heart begins to race. You stand and announce your name, your major, and year in school. You then walk towards Jeongin and slowly make your way to Chan. It’s quick, but not painless. It’s fucking nerve-racking as they each stand there, stone faced. 

When all the girls are seated on the couch again, the men exit the room. You’re all quiet as you wait for them to come back. It takes nearly half an hour. 

Chan announces the names. The first girl called is assigned to Jeongin and Han. The second is assigned to Felix and Lee Know. The third goes to Seungmin and Changbin. 

There are five of you left on the couch. You begin to feel nervous that you may not be chosen, but the next name that falls from Chan’s lips is yours. 

Your try your best to hide your surprise as you stand and step forward, hearing that you’re with Chan and Hyunjin. 

“Thank you, ladies, for coming today. If you haven’t graduated next year, we welcome you to come back again.” Chan says to the others on the couch before showing them to the door. 

When he returns, the eight of them shift around to stand in front of their assignee.

In front of you is Chan. You can’t help but notice the way the sleeves fit tightly around his biceps, and the veins protruding from his arms. Hyunjin is standing next to him—he’s taller than Chan, but a little more thin. His overall presence is softer. You try not to stare too much. 

“We’ll give you a tour of the place, show you where you’re staying and then you may retrieve your belongings and return by 5:00pm to prepare dinner. You will cook for whoever you’re assigned to, and get to know each other over dinner.” Chan continues to take charge. 

You’re then led on a tour of the house. The first floor has the living room, kitchen, and a bathroom. The kitchen has two separate stoves, a huge pantry and a ton of cabinet space. There’s even an island with bar stools along one side of it. They then take you all down to the basement where there’s a pool table, an old keg, a bar, TV, and beer pong table. 

On the second floor is four bedrooms. They tell you who resides on each floor, but do not allow you into the rooms unless it’s someone you’re assigned to. Hyunjin is on the second floor. 

He opens the door to the room and you peek inside. You see that there’s a Queen sized bed, dresser, and desk covered in art supplies. Next to his bed is a twin sized bed, bare of any sheets. Is that where you’ll sleep? You wonder. 

“The bathroom at the end of the hall on the second floor is strictly for you all to use,” Chan announces as you all make your way up to the next floor.

On the third floor, you’re allowed to see Chan’s room. It’s significantly larger than Hyunjin’s, with it’s own bathroom. He also has a queen bed, nightstands, a dresser and desk. However, the twin sized bed is further from his own, against the opposite wall. It, too, is bare of any sheets. 

After the tour, everyone breaks off into groups of whomever their paired with. You’re in the kitchen with Hyunjin and Chan standing on either side of you. You exchange numbers with both of them. 

“So you’re majoring in Biology?” Hyunjin speaks to you for the first time. 

You nod, unable to find your voice. Still somewhat in shock of what the hell is even happening.

“She’s nervous,” Chan says, easily able to read you.  

“Don’t be,” Hyunjin says with softened eyes. “It sounds more intimidating than it really is. This is a mutual thing, okay? We help each other.”

“Okay,” you reply quietly.

“Do something simple for dinner tonight,” Hyunjin continues. “Pasta? With shrimp?”

He looks over to Chan who shrugs and nods in response. 

“We’re not as demanding as the others—we won’t be expecting full course meals.”

“You got lucky,” Chan adds. 

Got lucky? Did you? Or did you just get yourself into an inexplicable situation? They didn’t mention anything about what should happen if you change your mind. Are you even allowed to? Perhaps you should have read through the NDA a little better. First the lease, now this…you’re not the best with contracts, are you? 

Chan produces a credit card from his wallet and hands it to you. 

“Return with your things by 5:00pm. You can get groceries and bedding with this. Two twin-sized sets.”

You take the card from him and put it in your pocket. 

“We’ll see you soon,” Hyunjin says in a sing-songy voice with a smile. 

“See you,” you say lightly and try to return the smile. 

You’re still feeling awkward about the entire ordeal, but you’re somewhat at ease at how respectful they all seem. You’re not sure if you’ll be forced to do anything you don’t want to…but as you think about how handsome every single man in the house is…will you eventually want to?

After going to get groceries and bedding (two sets), you get your belongings from your friends dorm then take an Uber back to SKZ house. 

You’re a little early, but the door is open. You place your personal things to the side and go to the kitchen to start on dinner. You’re thankful they chose an easy meal, but go the extra mile to make the Alfredo sauce from scratch. It’s one of the few recipes you remember by heart from your mother. You season the shrimp and cook it up with butter and garlic. 

The other girls start to arrive and space in the kitchen becomes severely limited, even with two stoves for you all to use. You start to wonder if they’ll all have dinner at the same time every day because that may prove to be quite a challenge. You all move around each other easily enough, but you don’t really say much. 

When the food is done and plated, you send Hyunjin and Chan a text that dinner is ready. 

They come into the kitchen moments later, grab their plates, then lead you down to the basement for the second time today. 

It’s definitely not a fancy or romantic environment. Sitting at a beer pong table and seated on fold out chairs, but you’re not uncomfortable. Nervous as shit. But not uncomfortable. 

You wait for them to eat first. They both nod appreciatively after taking their fist bite. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” Chan says, twirling pasta around his fork. 

“Ask us anything,” Hyunjin prompts. 

You’re silent for a moment, chewing your food. You have what feels like a million questions, and want to get the most important one out of the way first.

“Am I gonna be fucking you both?”

Hyunjin coughs on the food he’s eating and Chan let’s out a soft chuckle. He hands Hyunjin his glass of water.

“Well…yes,” is Chan’s blatant reply. 

You expect him to say more, but he doesn’t. 

“Like…at the same time or is there some sort of schedule or…?” You trail off.

Hyunjin, finally recovered from his coughing fit replies, “It’s really up to the three of us to decide specifics. You’ll be in either of our rooms, on a rotating schedule. We could do every three nights. Monday-Wednesday and Thursday-Saturday? Sunday will be your choice.”

You nod slowly, more in understanding than agreement at this particular moment. 

“This tradition works best when it operates like a well oiled machine,” Chan says. “Always be honest with us. Let us know if you aren’t feeling well, if you have your period—anything.”

“There’s actually an app we can all access if you’re uncomfortable telling us, we can use that.” Hyunjin adds. 

“And when it comes to cooking and cleaning, you and the other girls can work out whatever kind of schedule works best for all of you.” Chan continues. 

The absurdity of the arrangement starts to feel less worrisome as they talk. The situation itself is still quite insane, but they speak about it so casually that it seems normal. 

They allow you to pester them with questions as you finish up the meal. They’re all business majors, Hyunjin’s minor is Art and Chan’s is music. They’re all legacies at Sigma Kappa Zeta—meaning their fathers, and grandfathers for some, had been members too. They have all been on a certain career track since they were born to father’s that are successful business owners in Korea and Australia. They each came to the states in high school, studied at a prestigious boarding school and now here they all are, in college, together. 

You can’t fathom having your entire life planned out that way. Perhaps it would take out some of the things you stress about regarding your future, though. Clearly, their parents all want what’s best for them. 

They explain a few other rules like—you’re not allowed to date or have sex with anyone outside of the members, and that’s a rule everyone in the house follows. Failure to adhere will result in immediate removal from the home. 

After you’ve asked all your questions, you all head back up stairs. The others are scattered throughout the house, some at the dinning room table, some in the living room. Through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard, you see a few of them out there too. 

“We’ll handle the dishes for tonight,” Hyunjin tells you, taking the plate and glass from your hands. 

“Take your things upstairs, make up your bed in each of our rooms. There’s some closet and drawer space in each for you.” Chan says. 

“Where am I sleeping tonight?” You ask. 

“It's Sunday. Your choice,” replies Hyunjin. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s really just where you’ll sleep. It’s not like you won’t be able to interact with the other person or anyone else in the house based on where you sleep, okay?”

You nod. 

They take off towards the kitchen. You retrieve your belongings and head up stairs. In Hyunjin’s room you make the bed with the dark blue bedding set—it’s adorned with different flower types and feels fitting. You recalled seeing the flowers he was painting on his desk when you made this choice. You’re not sure how to divide up your clothing but decide to place a bit of everything in both rooms. 

When you make it up to Chan’s room, you put away the rest of your clothes then make up the bed here too. The set you chose for his room is black with teal and purple nebula on it. He has LED lights lining all four walls, near the ceiling. You thought it might look nice when they’re turned on. 

After making the bed, you sit down on and allow yourself a break to think.

You now have to decide who's room you’ll be sleeping in tonight. 

[ read chapter two here ]

a/n: yeah, this was a random idea that i'm just gonna roll with. no idea where its gonna go yet, but this will be fun to write. have to set the scene with this first chapter, the smut is coming, don't worry :)

[mariacallous]

Why disinformation experts say the Israel-Hamas war is a nightmare to investigate

The Israel-Hamas conflict has been a minefield of confusing counter-arguments and controversies—and an information environment that experts investigating mis- and disinformation say is among the worst they’ve ever experienced.

In the time since Hamas launched its terror attack against Israel last month—and Israel has responded with a weekslong counterattack—social media has been full of comments, pictures, and video from both sides of the conflict putting forward their case. But alongside real images of the battles going on in the region, plenty of disinformation has been sown by bad actors.

“What is new this time, especially with Twitter, is the clutter of information that the platform has created, or has given a space for people to create, with the way verification is handled,” says Pooja Chaudhuri, a researcher and trainer at Bellingcat, which has been working to verify or debunk claims from both the Israeli and Palestinian sides of the conflict, from confirming that Israel Defense Forces struck the Jabalia refugee camp in northern Gaza to debunking the idea that the IDF has blown up some of Gaza’s most sacred sites.

Bellingcat has found plenty of claims and counterclaims to investigate, but convincing people of the truth has proven more difficult than in previous situations because of the firmly entrenched views on either side, says Chaudhuri’s colleague Eliot Higgins, the site’s founder.

“People are thinking in terms of, ‘Whose side are you on?’ rather than ‘What’s real,’” Higgins says. “And if you’re saying something that doesn’t agree with my side, then it has to mean you’re on the other side. That makes it very difficult to be involved in the discourse around this stuff, because it’s so divided.”

For Imran Ahmed, CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate (CCDH), there have only been two moments prior to this that have proved as difficult for his organization to monitor and track: One was the disinformation-fueled 2020 U.S. presidential election, and the other was the hotly contested space around the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I can’t remember a comparable time. You’ve got this completely chaotic information ecosystem,” Ahmed says, adding that in the weeks since Hamas’s October 7 terror attack social media has become the opposite of a “useful or healthy environment to be in”—in stark contrast to what it used to be, which was a source of reputable, timely information about global events as they happened.

The CCDH has focused its attention on X (formerly Twitter), in particular, and is currently involved in a lawsuit with the social media company, but Ahmed says the problem runs much deeper.

“It’s fundamental at this point,” he says. “It’s not a failure of any one platform or individual. It’s a failure of legislators and regulators, particularly in the United States, to get to grips with this.” (An X spokesperson has previously disputed the CCDH’s findings to Fast Company, taking issue with the organization’s research methodology. “According to what we know, the CCDH will claim that posts are not ‘actioned’ unless the accounts posting them are suspended,” the spokesperson said. “The majority of actions that X takes are on individual posts, for example by restricting the reach of a post.”)

Ahmed contends that inertia among regulators has allowed antisemitic conspiracy theories to fester online to the extent that many people believe and buy into those concepts. Further, he says it has prevented organizations like the CCDH from properly analyzing the spread of disinformation and those beliefs on social media platforms. “As a result of the chaos created by the American legislative system, we have no transparency legislation. Doing research on these platforms right now is near impossible,” he says.

It doesn’t help when social media companies are throttling access to their application programming interfaces, through which many organizations like the CCDH do research. “We can’t tell if there’s more Islamophobia than antisemitism or vice versa,” he admits. “But my gut tells me this is a moment in which we are seeing a radical increase in mobilization against Jewish people.”

Right at the time when the most insight is needed into how platforms are managing the torrent of dis- and misinformation flooding their apps, there’s the least possible transparency.

The issue isn’t limited to private organizations. Governments are also struggling to get a handle on how disinformation, misinformation, hate speech, and conspiracy theories are spreading on social media. Some have reached out to the CCDH to try and get clarity.

“In the last few days and weeks, I’ve briefed governments all around the world,” says Ahmed, who declines to name those governments—though Fast Company understands that they may include the U.K. and European Union representatives. Advertisers, too, have been calling on the CCDH to get information about which platforms are safest for them to advertise on.

Deeply divided viewpoints are exacerbated not only by platforms tamping down on their transparency but also by technological advances that make it easier than ever to produce convincing content that can be passed off as authentic. “The use of AI images has been used to show support,” Chaudhuri says. This isn’t necessarily a problem for trained open-source investigators like those working for Bellingcat, but it is for rank-and-file users who can be hoodwinked into believing generative-AI-created content is real.

And even if those AI-generated images don’t sway minds, they can offer another weapon in the armory of those supporting one side or the other—a slur, similar to the use of “fake news” to describe factual claims that don’t chime with your beliefs, that can be deployed to discredit legitimate images or video of events.

“What is most interesting is anything that you don’t agree with, you can just say that it’s AI and try to discredit information that may also be genuine,” Choudhury says, pointing to users who have claimed an image of a dead baby shared by Israel’s account on X was AI—when in fact it was real—as an example of weaponizing claims of AI tampering. “The use of AI in this case,” she says, “has been quite problematic.”

[slvttyplum]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ you would kick him out but…| Toji Fushiguro

SYNOPSIS: saw a video saying broke men have the best dick and that made me think of a certain someone…

CONTENT: broke toji, smut, degradation, fem!reader, counter sex

You were sitting in the living room on your computer, finishing up grading assignments. All the lights were off, and nothing but a lamp was illuminating your glasses. You sigh, throwing your head back. You were grading for two hours nonstop, and your back started aching. You went to adjust your glasses before diving back into the words on your screen until the front door flung open.

You jump in fear, staring at the big figure in front of you. There he was, his broke ass. Toji stood there in sweats, a sweatshirt, and slides ruffling through the fridge already. You jump off the couch, storming towards him.

“And where the hell have you been all day?” He shrugs you off, grabbing a can of Coke and popping it open. His dark eyes are fixed on you as you hold your mouth open in anger. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he smirks at you. You squint your eyes, wondering what he’s going to say. You’ve been waiting on him to come back for hours on end to help him with applications, but he stood you up, thinking the shit is funny.

Toji burps, clearing his throat. “I’ve been looking for a job.” You burst out laughing and clapping your hands. If there's one thing he knows how to do, it's to make you laugh. Although this situation wasn’t funny, it was funny how he tried to blatantly lie.

“Don’t lie, your sorry ass was out roaming the streets like always. We’re grown; start being real.” You walk towards the fridge, opening it and looking for a snack. He does this all the time; the cycle never ends. This has been happening for three months: you agree to help him find a job; he agrees that once he gets a job, he’ll start paying rent; the next day he goes out and doesn’t come back until midnight; you get mad; he says what you want to hear.

It's exhausting, to say the least. You would kick him out, but...

You pulled out string cheese, and as Toji walks closer to you, sliding behind you, something slides across your ass and digs into you. He takes his hands, rubbing your sides as he moves forward, pressing into you.

Fuck…

You push back against him a little bit, dropping your cheese. He pushes right back, taking his hands and sliding them into your shirt, rubbing past your boobs. You flinch at the touch. Turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck, he takes his hands and slides them to your ass, gripping hard.

His dark eyes and cold demeanor did something to you like nothing else; it turned you on faster than any foreplay ever cold.

He picks you up as you wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you, and you kiss back forcefully. He pulls back, going for your neck. You push his head back, frowning, “No. You know that.” Chuckling, he takes you to the counter, setting you down.

“You would look so sexy with a hickey, though.”

You roll your eyes, taking off your shirt, revealing you were wearing no bra. He eyes you down, licking his lips like you were a full-course dinner. He quickly takes one of your boobs in his hand, fiddling with your nipple, and the other holds your neck, kissing you. His kiss got more aggressive, his mouth overpowering yours.

You moan into the kiss, subtly grinding; it felt so good, but you didn’t want to be needy. He removes his hand from your neck, putting his hand into your shorts. It was forceful, but it only made you wetter. His hands were rough but felt good against your skin.

"Let's just take these off.” He says, taking both his hands and yanking them off, you jerk up, flopping back on the counter. He throws off his slides, pulling down his sweats and briefs. You stare at him as he does it, his abs popping off and his happy trail sliding down to his pubic hair—a sight for sore eyes, you thought to yourself.

He takes one hand and sits it on your thigh, gripping it, and the other slides one finger in. You gasp, taking your hand and gripping his arm for stability. “How does it feel?” He says with bass in his voice, and you nod looking at him, trying to find the words "good." He then puts another finger in, curving them up, and you moan, throwing your head back.

He takes his hand off your thigh and spits in his hand, wrapping it over his dick. He lets out a soft moan, putting another finger inside of you. He smirks at the sight of you gripping onto him with your head back. You began to rock your hips back and forth, and you slid your hand down to his wrist. It always felt so good when he fingered you, and he made sure to make use of them if he couldn’t do anything else.

His moans got more audible as he stroked himself faster. Tilting your head back up, you looked at him as he was looking down at your pussy. You gripped his wrist harder, pulling his wrist into you. He looked up at you, moving his fingers faster. He slipped a third finger inside, curving it up even more.

“Tell me how much you like it, y/n.” You look at him with blank eyes as he goes faster. The pleasure was so great that you couldn’t even think of the words you were going to say. Your eyes were rolled, and you couldn’t breathe; you were close.

His speed slowed down. He slipped one finger out. He removed his hand from his dick, grabbing your neck and leaning forward, both your noses touching. “I Said…”

He dragged out the last word, slipping his dick inside of you. All thoughts zoomed back inside your head, your eyes rolling back into their original form. Before you could let out any words, he squeezed your neck, looking you straight in the eye.

“Answer my fucking question.”

You took your hand, gripping his wrist around your neck. “What question? Whether you should get a job or not?”

His grip got tighter as he thrust into you; his dick slid easily, your hips grinding against him subliminally. He leaned into your ear and said, “Don’t be fucking coy, answer.” You moaned loudly as he pounded into you with force. You were about to cum but couldn’t get there.

“You..” You say that in between breathing, he tilts his head, smirking and gripping your neck tighter. You start coughing, but he only grips harder and pounds faster. Your heart was racing so fast that you couldn’t hear anything but ringing.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn’t quite catch that.” He says moving his hips at a rate only a monster could go, you were almost there, just a bit more. You try to move your head back, but his grip is sucking the life out of you.

“That means say it again, slut.” You start slapping his hand as you draw closer to your climax, and your legs widen as you begin to cum.

“You! You! Oh my god, you.” You cum, and he only goes faster; his head falls onto your shoulder as he groans in between thrusts. The hold on your neck gets tighter, and you smack his hand, trying to get him off you.

His rhythm gets slower and sloppier, and he pulls out, cumming on your pussy, He unclasps your neck, and you start coughing. His head is still on your shoulder. You push him off, hopping off the counter. You walk towards him, slapping his chest.

“You almost killed me, you fucking idiot!”

He laughs, bending down and trying to catch his breath. “yeahhhh I know. Sorry about that.”

You roll your eyes, picking up your clothes off the floor and walking away, mumbling, “Put this much energy into finding a job.”

He picks his head up, yelling to you, "I'm sorry, what was that?

You stomp to your room door and say, “Fuck off.” slamming your door.