#but also the tip makes no sense idk what to tell her except 'yeah sure :)' then ignore it

[feluka]

hate that whenever i show my mom my art her immediate response is always "are you sure you have that much free time to do this?"

[zodiakuroo]

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?) 

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here 

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less. 

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God? 

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed. 

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right? 

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he  felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right. 

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word. 

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape. 

You could only dream of being so lucky. 

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. “I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.” 

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.” 

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.” 

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” 

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice. 

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further.  “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist. 

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you. 

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.” 

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter. 

You should have lied. 

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.” 

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.” 

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them. 

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t. 

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.” 

Wrong choice of words. 

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller. 

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.” 

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi. 

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette. 

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration. 

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief. 

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them. 

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck. 

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?” 

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper. 

“Better.” 

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you. 

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles. 

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating. 

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly. 

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately. 

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.  

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

 “I said in a minute.  Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted.  Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

 “You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch. 

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. 

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle. 

You feel so full. 

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation. 

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel. 

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there. 

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.” The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you.  What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said 

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”  

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank. 

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.”  Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute. 

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you. 

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be. 

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes.  “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

 “Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There��s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[makeste]

reading your meta, I feel like that's another reason (with protecting them) why Izuku didn't confide in any of his friends (apart from Katsuki, but that's his bf u know, hoes before bros) about OFA. if he feels like he has to save everyone in his faulted (but very human!) view, that makes sense. so, he will probably tell them after Katsuki (who doesn't like the secrecy as seen in the flashback) punches some sense into him. I would love Ochako, Iida and Shouto to also make him see he's not alone

I think that’s definitely part of it -- he didn’t want to burden them. Katsuki, as you said, was an exception, because Kacchan is always an exception for him. but yeah, if and when some sense-knocking does go down, I’m hoping one of the results will be Deku (and All Might) finally letting their guard down enough to let a few of the others in on the secret. actually I’m almost positive this is going to happen no matter what before much longer. there’s a lot building up to this.

first, there’s the practicality aspect of it all. Deku is reaching a tipping point (actually he might have already tipped right on over it lol) where feeble excuses like “oh wow, look at that, it must be a weird secondary aspect of my quirk that I never knew existed till now!” are simply not going to work anymore. no one is going to buy some half-assed “guess what guys, my super strength quirk slash spider-man energy web quirk randomly and spontaneously evolved on the spot to also include a floating quirk and an OH NO, DANGER!! quirk! how about that! fucking quirks, man!! wild!!” no, Deku. THAT LINE CAN ONLY GET YOU SO FAR.

second, there’s his increasingly trippy connection to AFO which is also going to become more and more difficult to hide as events wear on. it would not at all surprise me if he got up to some more AFOFA shenanigans in the OFA Astral Plane as soon as the very next chapter. plus people are going to start wondering why TomurAFO was/is after him.

and lastly, though he might not even realize it yet, with the downfall of first All Might and now Endeavor, and with AFO growing exponentially more powerful in that same span of time, Deku is pretty much on the fast track now to being the World’s Best And Possibly Only Hope. though it’s not just him, really. it’s all of the kids. but the simple fact that he’s the one with the quirk that’s been passed down through the ages for the sole purpose of defeating AFO means that he’s the one who’s going to be at the center of it all.

this last arc was a coming-of-age arc for all of the U.A. students. they found themselves on the front lines of probably the largest-scale battle in quirk-era history, and not only did they survive, they ended up being the ones who made the difference. Tokoyami confronted Dabi and saved Hawks. the Momosquad defeated Gigantofuckingmachia!! Ochako faced one of the strongest villains in the series solo, completely held her own, and still had enough left in the tank to go out and rescue god knows how many more people afterwards. and Shouto, Katsuki, and Deku took on literally the strongest villain of all time, held their own, and came this close to actually defeating him. and not only that, but managed to hold off Dabi as well. with only a year of training under their belts.

and the adults? what is there to say. sure, a handful of them made it out more or less unscathed, but now they’re dealing with a situation that is magnitudes past anything they’re capable of handling. the entire Billboard Top 10 is either dead or in critical condition. the number one hero is facing a political fallout that will probably end in his resignation. top-security inmates from six (or was it seven?? this part was very unclear??) of the most notorious prisons in the country broke free and are on the loose. and presumably there is still a mass-scale rescue and recovery operation underway at Jakku and all of those other cities, and the heroes who aren’t dealing with the prison breaks are probably occupied with that.

basically the short of it is that the torch has been passed on. I don’t know yet how they’re going to deal with that in the story, given the legal and ethical ramifications -- maybe the HPSC will just say “fuck it” and give them temporary full hero licenses, idk. but the inevitable controversy of that aside, this is clearly where the story is leading now. and so what that means, is that without Endeavor or All Might or any of the Old Guard left, it will inevitably fall to the kids to lead the charge for this last stretch of the story. Mirio, Momo, Ochako, Shouto, Katsuki, and all the rest. and Deku.

and that means Deku is going to have to step up. because this is what it’s all been building up to for him. OFA vs. AFO. and so at that point, he basically has to tell the others, because it’s going to be critical for them to understand. at that point it becomes a situation where the danger to them is greater if they don’t know about it, because whatever strategy they end up working out will ultimately need to hinge on OFA as their trump card. they have to know. he has to tell them.

so yeah, basically I’m expecting this to happen pretty soon! it’s past time for his other close friends to be let in on the secret, and it takes some of the pressure off of him and Katsuki as well. and aside from that, it’s basically just all about that trust, baby. Let Deku Have Everyone’s Back And Everyone Have His 2021. manifest that shit, lol.

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Novalunosis

[n.] the state of relaxation and wonderment experienced while gazing upon the stars.

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday, my first one! And this picture is gorgeous.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female oc (no name/features are mentioned)

Warnings: uh, don't jump off balconies into water please? Fluff, angst-ish, idk what I'm doing.

A/N: Takes place before the show.I don't know how the Force works? *waves hands* Fanfic! My first time writing for Din and Star Wars in general. Also, punctuation? Don't know her.

There's a vaguely familiar silhouette standing behind the gauzy curtain across the room. A room Din doesn't recall entering, which should put him on high alert but he finds that the adrenaline doesn't come rushing. Nothing about this room with walls the color of soft sunlight and warmth in the lines of its decoration sets him on edge.

If anything, he relaxes where he sits on the edge of the bed. Looking down he finds a muted green blanket and crisp white sheets tucked neatly around the mattress beneath him. Gloved fingers run over the slight sheen of the top layer, wondering how he could dream up something he's never seen before.

These dreams, and the figure across the room, find him when he sleeps. Not often enough that he expects them but with a frequency that puzzles him when he lets it. Nothing ever the same twice, nothing except for her.

"I think I was here with my parents once, when I was little" the voice reaches his ears like there isn't a barrier of beskar between the two and he has to reach up to feel for it, just to be sure.

The figure chuckles, pushing the curtain out of the way to smile at him. Having a smile offered to him, for him, is not a regular occurrence for the Mandalorian but still, it's nothing he seems to need to be wary of if the warmth uncurling in his chest is to be trusted.

The woman is barefoot, pale blue pants fitted with pockets at every chance with a well worn, cream colored shirt tucked haphazardly into the high waist line. Her arms are bare, scars on them visible from where he sits.

Her face is happy but expectant, eyes trained on him. Definitely familiar. A name floats somewhere in his head but he can't quite reel it in, even as she walks over to sit down beside him, one leg tucked under the other as she faces him.

She's close, knee brushing his thigh as she settles comfortably. Din knows her, she obviously knows him. How is the only mystery.

"Are we dreaming?" he asks, helmet turned in her direction, the use of 'we' coming out before he can comprehend it.

"Yeah, the first one in a while" she nods.

"How?"

"You always ask that."

"Should I not?" his tone is less than cordial but he's confused yet unconcerned at the same time and it is frustrating.

"Din, I know you, and I know the scar on your right hand palm because I put it there" as casually as she speaks his name, she tugs on the glove of his hand, arching a brow in question.

He lets her have it, her own hand wrapping around it, careful of his vambrace, and massages the scar through the leather of the glove.

"You were better with a vibroblade at the time" he huffs, more so at the strange sensation of saying something he knows is true with certainty, even though the memory attached to it remains blurry.

"Were?" she scoffs playfully and Din smiles just a little "I'd bet my whole weapons cash that I'm still better with one than you are, Din Djarin."

"Deal" he says and curls his fingers around hers, leaning into her space like the slow pull of gravity when a ship breaks atmo.

Forehead meets helmet none to gently but she just grins up at him, so close to the visor it might as well not be there at all. He gets the distinct sense that for her it makes no difference, she knows him. She knows his face.

One corner of her mouth pulls up with her grin, a little crooked, but it feels significant. Distinctive. It strikes a chord somewhere inside him and thrums its vibrations of familiarity all throughout his body.

"Wanna see outside? It's beautiful" she pulls back, standing with their hands still connected.

Din can only nod, getting to his feet when she tugs. A helpless satellite in her orbit.

The balcony behind the curtain is small but surrounded by green towers of hanging vines, leaves reaching downward over railings and stone architecture carefully crafted to feel open. Like the walls are meant to breathe with you.

He's too busy gazing up at the blue square of sky through the open roof that he doesn't notice her tugging off her pants until they are tossed at his helmet.

"What are you- NO!" the nervousness in his voice pitches upwards to panic once he pulls the fabric clear of his visor, only to see her push herself up and over the balcony railing.

The jump is graceful, muscles learned in quick movements, trained to lift, pull, and leap. It just about stops his heart as she slips out of his reach and down below. Maybe this isn't a dream after all.

The splash below nearly has him keeling over the railing, watching the fabric of her shirt billow out in the water, a stark contrast to the blue tile design on the floor of the pool.

"Are you kriffing insane?" he yells down to her once she surfaces.

"Cuy ogir'olar" she answers in Mando'a, crooked grin taking over her face.

"Irrelevant my-" he shakes his head "you could have gotten hurt!"

"This is a dream Din! Stop being such a gullipud and join me!" she kicks onto her back and begins to paddle calmly around the pool.

He sighs as he watches her, strong legs pushing her through the water leisurely while her arms keep her balanced. It's a steady rhythm, watching the clear water ripple around her, sunlight flickering on the miniature waves like metal in dunes of sand.

Din gives in sooner than he likes to admit. Removing his armor piece by piece to set it on the bed, hesitating with hands poised to remove his helmet.

This is nothing but a dream after all.

The sentiment makes it no easier to walk back out onto the balcony, devoid of any beskar, barefoot and balling his hands up so tight he can feel the bite of his nails on his palms. Looking down at the water, he spots her floating on her back, eyes closed.

Leaping over the railing is nothing, he does dangerous things all the time. It's when he bobs back up to the surface of the cool water that any kind of apprehension sets in because she's swimming over to him, that bright look back on her face.

"You look like a drowned Wookie" she teases, slowly lifting a hand to push the hair plastered to his forehead away "when was the last time you got a haircut?" He pretends to think about his answer, enjoying the feel of her skin on his face as she lets a finger drift down between his brows, across the bridge of his nose and all the way to tip. It's a circuit she repeats, back and forth. Up and down. Like she's putting him in a trance.

It works. Her question forgotten, just the warm brush of her fingertip and the feeling of being known. Even covered in his armor it felt that way.

He knows she doesn't like being told what to do, knows how hard the knuckles of her deceptively soft looking hands can be against flesh, knows she was a Foundling like him. He knows that she never gets tired of looking at the stars, no matter how far she travels.

She only startles a little when he lunges forward to lift her up and pull her tight against him, arms secure around her. His face is pressed against hers, every inch of connection he can wring out of this, he will.

"Hi" she whispers into his ear, with arms slung around his neck and legs around his waist beneath the water. She sounds like she's greeting an old friend who has finally recognized her.

"I missed you but I don't even know who you are" voice thick, he admits defeat "I don't know your name and I'm afraid to let you go."

"I know, Din, I know" she nods and the drag of her cheek against his sends a shiver down his spine.

"Tell me where you are so I can come to you"

"I'm right here"

"I mean it"

He pulls back, one palm cupping her face, staring her down. Intent on waiting her out. The water laps patiently at their movements like a ticking metronome.

"No, you're right where you need to be, on the path you need to go down" she smiles again but there's a sadness creeping into it.

"I don't care" his words are quietly fierce, pulling her back against him as if he holds on tight enough to her, he can pull her out of this dream with him.

He shuts his eyes and buries his face into the crook of her neck, the cool scent of water giving way to the layers underneath. Of bacta and herbs and something unnameable and warm assaulting his senses.

Around them, the vibrant green layers begin to brown and decay. Leaves fall swiftly down to float on the water, dissolving. The walls start to break slowly, color fading from the intricate tile work. She can hear wood splinter and give way under rot somewhere above them.

"This place, it doesn't exist in the real world anymore" she tells him, tears gathering as she looks up while still holding tight to her Mandalorian.

"I don't care" Din repeats, eyes open and trying for one more glimpse into hers but she's looking up.

So he does too and finds the sky dark, spotted with stars he's never seen before. They must be her stars, wherever she is.

"It's okay Din" she shushes him even as he shakes his head, the pit in his stomach a gnawing beast of panic he hasn't felt in so long.

He knows he wouldn't recognize himself at the moment, this silent begging thing clutching onto an almost stranger like she knows the universes biggest secrets. It's not okay.

"It is, it is" she leans in, finger beginning the endless loop of stroking the strong line of his nose, up to the furrow in his brow. Once, twice, and then she presses a kiss with warm lips to his cheek.                                   ----------------------------------- The mandalorian jolts awake, nearly spilling out of the pilots seat in the cockpit of the Crest. Heart pounding like a heard of bantha, sucking in breaths so fast he yanks of his helmet.

The blur of hyperspace stares back at him from the view port and he tries to tell himself the spot on his cheek that remains damp yet warm is simply sweat.

Not even the stars believe that.                                      --------------------------------- On a planet that spins beneath stars from a dream, the walls of her bedroom give a quick tremble in sync with her return to consciousness. She had given up on shelves and hanging pictures long ago.

They simply ended up breaking, like so many other things.

Pulling her blanket tight around her shoulders, she gets out of bed and makes her way through the dark maze of her home. It's large but not for the luxury of it, whatever isn't covered in medical supplies and random tech leaves very little for personal items.

An old habit from to much time spent planet hopping.

But the stars, there is always room for the stars.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part Three)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, kinda fluff but not really?? idk nothing bad happens

Word count: 1,657

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate.

a/n: sooooo i havent had time to work on more parts for seungkwan and i only have one more part completely written. so until i can write more parts, i’ll only be updating once a week and it’ll probably be on wednesdays

Previous | Next | Void Masterlist

After being brought up to Seungkwan’s room and speaking with Soomin, Jia, and Yeji -- the wolves could only hope one of those three would be able to make sense of everything -- you seemed much calmer. The three alphas went to check on you with Seungkwan, hoping to get some answers from you. All they knew was you were the banshee, and something about Joshua seemed to be the reason for your screaming.

“So,” Soonyoung began as he approached the small group with the alphas and Seungkwan flanking him, trying to keep his tone light, “care to explain?”

“She doesn’t just signal death,” Soomin explained, “she sometimes screams to block out the noise of this world to hear the voices on other planes.”

“Was that what that was?” Jihoon wondered.

"Yeah, we think so,” Jia confirmed. “She did say she’s been hearing one specific voice lately, and I think I can guess who it is.”

Soonyoung shook his head, trying to wrap his head around all this new information, “Hold on, so… What about the other times she’s screamed near the house? Is one of us going to die?”

“Not necessarily…” your voice was soft as you shrugged, seeming to shrink into Soomin’s side in the presence of the alphas. “It could be someone will die, it could be someone close to you will die, it could be that one of you will cause somebody to die, it might just be me trying to hear… I don’t know what it is, I’m…I’m sorry…”

Seungcheol sighed, “No, don’t be sorry, _____; it’s not your fault. Let’s just not worry about it for now. It’s _____’s first day with us and we should show her around and make her feel welcome.”

“I think you’ll like the gardens,” Seungkwan smiled at you before holding his hand out for you to take. “I’ll show you.”

-

Showing you the garden had somehow turned into a new activity. While you were inside, Jooyeon had gone outside with some of the wolves and was doing some target practice to pass time -- and because she felt there was too much commotion going on inside. The thief was excited to have a weapon in her hands and targets to throw knives and shoot things at. 

The other mates -- except Danbi who you still had yet to meet -- had gone outside with you and Seungkwan, followed by the alphas. Jooyeon noticed all of you and smiled brightly.

“Hey, wanna throw some knives?” she offered.

Jia was unable to participate since she was blind, and Soomin quickly but politely declined. So that left you, Yeji, and the thief to it.

“I used to be pretty decent with one of these when I was a human,” Yeji said as she grabbed a bow and an arrow from the grass. You watched her as she loaded the arrow before aiming your bow and staring at the poorly painted target on the tree ahead of her. “It was just for fun, though, and I wasn’t any good. I’m worse now.”

Her ears twitched slightly as she aimed before she released the string, sending the arrow flying toward the left of the center, but not too terribly far off. You heard a low whistle, but you weren’t sure who it came from. But you were sure impressed because Yeji seemed so cute and non-menacing. The fact she knew how to handle a bow and arrow even mildly was a little intimidating to you.

“I was never good with those kinds of weapons,” Jooyeon shrugged, slipping her pocket knife out of her pocket. “I’m more of a…knife or tomahawk or sword kind of gal.”

“Well, you are a thief,” Jeonghan snorted, watching the younger girl carefully. “It only makes sense you’re better at combat at close range.”

"I was explaining for _____’s sake,” she grimaced before sticking her tongue out at the wolf.

You smiled a little at the sentiment, liking that she thought to include you. You weren’t really sure how anybody in the pack felt about you now that they knew you were the banshee they’d been so terrified of, so this was definitely a step in the right direction.

Jooyeon walked over to stand where Yeji stood, so she stepped to the side to give her room. Jooyeon looked over at the target as Chan retrieved the arrow, using his speed to go back and forth.

“I’m definitely rusty,” the thief sighed.

Seungcheol whined softly from where he stood beside Jeonghan, “Please be careful, Jooyeon.”

Without even pointing the knife to line up the shot, she just threw it toward the trees. It missed the center by only a couple inches, but it still had the pack impressed. They had rarely seen  Jooyeon in action, so she wasn’t too surprised by their reactions. However, she was definitely flattered, a soft blush coming to her cheeks as she smiled to herself proudly.

“It’s been a while,” Jooyeon nodded, watching as the pup ran to retrieve the knife before handing it back to her with a smile.

“That was so cool!” he chirped excitedly. “Can you teach us to do that?”

Jooyeon shrugged, gesturing to the target with the tip of her knife, “Uh…I mean, you kinda just…throw it. It’s just a lot of practice, I guess.”

You were so wrapped up in everything happening that you didn’t notice how Seungkwan softly smiled at you, seeing how in awe you were at the mates’ skills. He also enjoyed how you seemed to fit right in as you observed quietly, not spacing out or standing off somewhere by yourself. He liked that you seemed to belong already.

“Somebody grab the ax from the shed!” Soonyoung ordered with a bright smile.

As Junhui went to go get it like asked, Seungcheol’s eyes went wide, and he growled in warning to the younger alpha, “What? No!”

“C’mon, it’s like a tomahawk, Cheol,” he scoffed. “She’ll be fine.”

“She could get hurt! We can toss it around like it’s nothing, but it’s heavy to her!”

Jun returned with the ax and handed it over to Jooyeon. The girl tested it’s weight with a frown, deciding it was definitely too heavy to throw. Immediately, Seungcheol grabbed the ax away from her, and pulled her to stand behind him. She huffed in reply but said nothing.

“You can’t give her an ax!” he said, tossing the weapon away like it weighed nothing.

“They just did,” Jihoon deadpanned.

“I’ll give it to Yeji and see how you like it!” Seungcheol shot back.

Nobody had noticed Chan go back inside the house until he returned with the kitchen knives in his hands. He dropped them on the ground near Jooyeon, and she smirked as you went to pick one up by the handle. The blade shone in the sunlight, as the expertly tossed it around to catch the handle once again. Then she looked over at you with a quirked brow.

“Wanna try?” she offered.

You weren’t sure what to do. Your first instinct was to look to Seungkwan, but he seemed a little apprehensive. But with good reason that you didn’t know about. You seemed so delicate to him that he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. You were also very spacey and he wasn’t sure how safe that was.

“It’s fine,” Jooyeon encouraged. “I guarantee there’s no way you can get hurt -- I mean, unless you hold the knife the wrong way.”

Slowly, you approached the girl and took the knife handle that she offered you. You looked down and studied it, weighing the weapon in your hand.

“You just…throw?” you asked, glancing up from the knife to the girl that was standing beside you.

She nodded, a friendly smile appearing on her face, “Yeah, just throw.”

You did as she had done earlier, looking toward your target before bringing your hand back over your shoulder before throwing the knife. It clanked against the tree before falling to the ground in front of it, and you laughed at yourself.

Seungkwan let out a breath he was apparently holding.

“God, you’re going to kill me with a heart attack,” he mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair as Chan raced to get the knife.

Seungcheol looked over at Seungkwan with an amused smile, knowing the younger wolf finally felt just a taste of what it was like being Jooyeon’s mate.

“Blame fate, Kwannie,” he laughed.

“Fine, I’ll let you have a turn at heart palpitations,” Seungkwan sneered, watching the alpha’s grin turn into a glare before he turned to face you and Jooyeon. “Jooyeon, show us your skills some more. Didn’t you say before you could throw them really fast?”

“How about she doesn’t do that,” Seungcheol whined like a child as his mate picked up the knives by the handles one by one, placing them in her belt. “Stop listening to Seungkwan!”

"It’s fine,” she said with a laugh, stepping to stand where she had before. She stared at the ground. “Tell me when to go, Kwan.”

“Go.”

When Jooyeon looked up, her eyes were narrowed and determined, grabbing knives from her belt and throwing them one by one at the trees. The first one hit the target right in the center, the rest behind lodged into various trees at roughly the same spot. All you could do was watch in wonder, impressed by the thief’s skills.

Once she was fresh out of knives, she turned to look at you with a smile, hoping for praise.

“That was insane!” Yeji squealed, clapping her hands together.

“Whoa...” Junhui breathed, nodding slowly.

Jooyeon’s smile only widened at everyone’s compliments. But all you could do was stare at her in awe.

The pack was full of various kinds of people that didn’t really seem like they’d fit together, but they did. You decided the pack was interesting, and you liked them.

[sortaotaku]

Happy New Years! 🎉

Ikevam New Year’s Set Stories

2021 Super Awesome Set

I wanted to share because I understand the paywall is probably too much for a lot of people. It’s a pretty informal overview of the stories though~

Boys Talk - Team Abnormal 

Shakespeare, Le Comte, Jean

Setting: Thermae

Le Comte asks why Shakespeare is looking gloomier than normal. Shakespeare says he feels a bit weird about a sarcastic comment Arthur made about the three of them (Shakespeare, Le Comte, Jean) being abnormal.

Le Comte: I guess he means we’re deviants. Idk where he got that from. 

He comments that Shakespeare likes to tease people and wonders what to do with him.

Jean: You two are most definitely deviants

Them: Wha? 

Le Comte calls his comment unnecessarily cruel. Shakespeare defends himself and says unlike Le Comte he’s a gentleman

Le Comte is like LOL I feel like you added an insult in there

Jean: It’s best you hear the truth bc you’re in denial. You’ve been buying <your name here/MC> dresses a lot. Are you sure it’s not just bc you like dressing her up?

Le Comte: What else am I supposed to do? She looks ravishing in everything. I’m not doing anything except sitting and watching in the dressing room.

Shakespeare: A grown man enjoying dressing up a girl like a doll sounds pretty deviant to me

Jean: Yep. He’s the most deviant one.

Le Comte: Judging from the content of your plays I think you’re worse than me.

Shakespeare: My writing isn’t necessarily representative of my desires

Jean comments about how Shakespeare has been inviting MC over to his villa a lot.

Le Comte comments that he quite likes Jeans fixation on MC and Jean tells him to shuddup.

Shakespeare also says he isn’t doing anything weird. He says he blindfolded and cuffed her for research purposes.

Jean: Hold on, I’ll come back with my sword.

Le Comte: Don’t run around the mansion naked and angry. Return to the water now.

Shakespeare states that Jean is upset by trivial matters. Basically “tough luck, that’s life”

Le Comte: Yeah, be more open-minded

Jean: I must destroy the world then

Shakespeare asks if he had any weird encounters and Le Comte says he’s basically been a recluse 

Jean admits to giving MC a boost on his shoulders, but... He was shocked because her thighs were pressed against his cheeks and they were soft. 

Shakespeare: How are you insult us when you had her pressing her thighs against your face? You’re the worst deviant one.

Le Comte is basically like LOL and Jean is kinda baffled.

End

Boys Talk - Battle Against Desires

Theo, Napoleon, Mozart

Setting: Thermae

Mozart calls the two of them sighing in sync annoying

They do it again and state they’re tired

Mozart comments that this is rare considering how adept they are at dealing with the more eccentric residents 

They’re both like “That’s it!”

Napoleon is like that’s what everyone says. Everyone thinks I’m sensible

Theo: Yeah, I thought common sense is something everyone should have. We just look overly sensible because everyone lacks it.

Napoleon is like how about we just toss that (sense) out, I’m sick of it. 

Theo: Yeah, I’m going to do whatever I want

Mozart: Hold on, if you do that you’ll lose sight of yourselves.

Mozart (Internally): They say it’s the most dangerous when people go off the rails. These two keep order. I must stop them.

Mozart adds that everyone didn’t start out selfish. He asks if they’re sure if something else isn’t making them this way.

Napoleon says its a problem that MC sees them as so sensible.

Mozart is like: 🤨 Why?

Napoleon says that everything is wrong. She lies around in the common area asleep and apparently sleep undresses. (Half way, that is)

Mozart: Yea sounds about right... Wait what? Don’t tell me you...

Napoleon: Obviously I buttoned her up and tucker her in so she wouldn’t catch a cold.

Mozart: Are you her mom?

Theo: I get that! I would do that too.

Napoleon: Theo~ 🥰

Mozart: Can you guys not hug in the bath? Anyways what about Theo?

Theo: I went in for a bath and MC was in there stark naked bc she mixed up the time.

Mozart: Yea, she’s ditzy sometimes. Don’t tell me you...

Theo: Obviously I simultaneously tossed her my own towel and quickly turned around.

Mozart: Are you her dad? 

Napoleon: I get that! I would do that too.

Napoleon~ ❤️❤️❤️

Mozart: Stahp hugging in the bath... So you’re saying you don’t feel free to express your desires bc you’re seen as too sensible?

Them: Yea

Mozart: That’s easy to fix. Just act on your desires. It’s important to be true to your feelings. I just do what I want.

Napoleon: Easier said than done. Women find it even more frightening when a “safe” man comes onto them more than normal men. They feel violation AND disappointment because of the breaking of expectations.

Theo: And you’ll lose trust that you cannot recover.

Mozart: That sounds oddly convincing from you two.

They sigh heavily again. Mozart smiles a bit and comments that he must warn MC to be careful from now on and encourages them to cheer up.

End

Boys Talk - Imagination Station

Dazai, Arthur, Isaac

Setting: Thermae

Dazai talks about how great a bath after a good drink is. Arthur agrees and asks Isaac what he thinks. (Note: Don’t go into a huge hot bath while drunk)

Isaac: STAHP TOUCHING ME YOU TWO! Why did you guys insist we bathe together?

Dazai: It’s a good way to get to know each other.

Arthur: Yep, we know each other well but there are no limits on luvbbb ❤️

Isaac: If this is your love I have some doubts...

Arthur + Dazai: Lalalala~~~ 🎶

Arthur: Isn’t it funny how alcohol loosens inhibitions? I’d love to get naughty with MC

Isaac: Don’t you dare touch her!

Dazai: I find it questionable too.

Isaac: Dazai?

Dazai: Women get uncomfortable with sudden moves. You haveta do “that” 

Isaac: huh?

Them: I-mAg-I-nA-tIoN!

Isaac: 🤨huh???

Arthur: Lemme explain. We’re writers. We think up scenarios for a living.

Isaac: ?

Arthur: GOSH. We can do anything we want. In our minds. In vivid detail.

Dazai: Ai-kun is confused still, we must invite him into our minds

Arthur: Good idea! Naughty story time!

Isaac: Hold on—

Arthur and Dazai cook up an Isaac x MC smut headcanon in which Dazai still calls her “Toshiko”

Isaac didn’t even notice at first and commented that it makes sense Mc was drowsy because she’s a hard worker. He gets embarrassed when he figures out and the other two are like LOLLL 😂😂😂, we love your reactions!

Isaac: You’re saying you spend your days thinking about lewd stories of MC?

Them: No.

Arthur: We could imagine but the real thing is a whole different thing.

Dazai: The real thing trumps fantasy.

Isaac: So you were trolling me?

Them: Yes.

Isaac: You’re the worst!

Them: Rofl

End

Boys Talk - A Steamy Nighttime

Leonardo, Vincent, Sebastian

Setting: Thermae

Leonardo: A bath sure is nice!

The other two: ...

Leonardo: Why so quiet?

Vincent: I don’t think MC registers me and Sebastian as men. (Correct. You are indeed an angel and not a mortal man)

Leonardo: Why?

Vincent recalls how he was sunbathing with MC and she commented how he was comforting like a little brother

Leonardo: Pride must’ve been hurt by that. Sebas?

Sebastian: Similar. She said I was like her dad.

Leonardo: Dad-zoned, huh (*This isn’t my own abridging of the story, he actually said that) It’s not as bad as you think. Its proof MC is comfortable, that’s important.

Vincent and Sebastian says that : They want to be seen and treated as reliable men

Leonardo (internally): I’m pretty sure she sees them as men though. If I’m too serious about this, they’ll try too hard. The best thing is to make them laugh

Leonardo: You must get comfortable around women. If you get too self conscious things get weird right?

Sebastian: I see. How?

Leonardo: Prof Leonardo shall teach you. This is classified so don’t share

Them: We Promise.

Leonardo: Did you know a women’s breast is as soft as the inside of their arms. Start there with the inner arm

Vincent: Brilliant. What do we say after

Sebastian: Practice on me master Vincent

Vincent: Your arm is hard

Sebastian: I’m actually swole. (He says quite muscular)

Leonardo: You weren’t supposed to take this seriously

Vincent: Will you give more tips? I wanna get closer to MC

Sebastian: Please teach us professor Leonardo

Leonardo (internally): I didn’t expect this... They’re so pure. I can’t let them down.

Leonardo: When someone licks their lips it means they want you to kiss them, so watch out.

Vincent: You’re a genius! Arthur does that all the time! But I won’t do that since it will startle MC if I suddenly kiss her.

Sebastian: Start with the forehead/cheek

Vincent: Anything else?

Leonardo: Playing with hair = Wants affection

Sebastian: Isaac does that a lot, but he DOES crave affection. I gotta watch out for that.

Leonardo: Listen. I didn’t expect this...

Them: Teach us more!

Leonardo: 😓 

End

A/N

Sorry it’s late. Distracted my Animal Crossing. You can find 2020’s set in my previous post or under the “2020 New Years Set” tag.

[flowercrown-bard]

28, for the writing ask? I would love to hear your answer ❤️

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

ok so I'm definitely not good enough to give out advice so take everything I say with a grain of salt

Specific writing tips

1. General writing:

@samstree mentioned this one before: don’t describe people by their hair colour too often. Especially when it’s a pov character. Always try to remember why you describe someone a certain way: it’s because that’s how your pov character thinks of them. Is your pov character rich? Then sure, they will probably call someone “the poorly dressed man” in their head. Does your pov character have a thing for blondes? Then yeah, they will focus on “the blonde”. So yeah, there are instances when describing someone like that makes sense. because it teaches the reader something about how the main character thinks. If there’s a group of people whose name the pov character doesn’t know, they will have to distinguish the people so they will probably think about “the bald man, the tall woman and the person with the impressive mustache”. But what reason does the pov character have to think of themselves as “the brown haired girl”? I can tell you that I never once in my life thought of myself as that. Neither do I think of my friends as “the brunette” or “the pink-haired girl”. They are my friends! I think of them as by their name or as “my friend”. Also. There are some attributes that will have certain connotations. if the pov character thinks of their lover as “the older man” I personally will immediately picture a big age gap even if I know the characters are only a couple of years apart. Because if the pov character takes note of the fact that the other person is older, it draws attention to it, so it must be significant enough to be noticed

Please, please show us what goes on in the pov character’s head. Don’t just tell us what they do or how they feel. Show us (there are exceptions to that rule, but i don’t know them). If the main character sees the love of their life kiss someone else, don’t just say “She was sad.” Show us how she is sad. Show us how her smile freezes, how her voice gets tight when she congratulates her beloved. Show us how her chest feels like someone is crushing it, like their beloved is crushing her heart, even without knowing they held it in their palm. Show us how she turns away, unable to hide the tears. idk, my point is, maybe too much emotion will sound melodramatic, but if the reader doesn’t like it, they can just skip it. (I definitely use that stuff far too often) But if you don’t describe anything, there’s nothing the reader can do and it will be hard to feel what the character is feeling

When there’s a time skip, try not to say “three days later” or “after half a year”. There are other ways to show the passage of time. Like, when in one scene it’s summer and in the next chapter, someone comments on how the air smells like snow. Or when one character is starting a sketch for a painting and in the next scene, they are waiting for the paint to dry bc they just finished the painting and they can’t wait to show their friend. (idk. I’m not good at this one. Time skips trip me up all the time, but they are really important if you don’t want to describe every boring detail)

this is extremely hypocritical of me, but: Worldbuilding is so important. Seriously, if you know the world your story is set in, you won’t even have to come up with a plot. Things will just happen. Like: There’s a tradition to celebrate a historic event, so obviously, the characters will participate in the celebration, because that’s what the worldbuilding demands. And then you can write how the characters feel about the holiday. Maybe they bond over a shared hatred for the festivities bc they both have bad memories associated with it. Maybe one Julie will grab Andrew’s hand in excitement because “Look! It’s [carnival game]! I haven’t done one of these since I was a kid!” And then Andrew gets to watch Julie play the game and relive a happy childhood memory and oh, Julie is so beautiful when she is excited. Or, idk things can go really wrong and there can be an ambush and a mass panic breaks out. So many possibilities, and all just because you included some holiday in the worldbuilding

2. beginnings are so hard to write and there are so many ways to start a story. So here's my all time favourite

a shortish sentence that summons up the problem (in a slightly sarcastic way or by reflecting the pov character’s mood/mindset), like: Everything was going according to plan. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the plan was terrible. Or: It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault. It really wasn’t. How was he supposed to know that [something he did] would lead to [consequences that he could have totally forseen]? or: Witchers didn’t get attached. It would only lead to problems. [enter Jaskier, and Geralt does something that shows that he is very much attached to him]

if that’s not for you, starting with dialogue is something I also like when reading. But if you do that, make sure to make it obvious who’s speaking. If there’s a paragraph of someone talking but I don’t know who is talking, I will just be confused instead of hooked

I also like stories that start from an outsider’s perspective, but only for a couple of paragraphs and then shift to our main character. that way we can see how the main character is perceived by others and we also get the contrast of how the main character acts/thinks differently than everyone else (I did that in Always Lose-Lose and it’s still my favourite opening I wrote)

2. endings:

Reread everything you’ve written before writing the last chapter. trust me, I know it sounds tedious. This is actually the reason why it always takes me forever to write the last chapter bc I don’t want to reread the rest. But here’s the thing. By rereading, you will notice all the details that you can mention again so that the story can come full circle. That throw away line about the green doublet Jaskier wore proudly because Geralt gave it to him? Geralt can notice that Jaskier wears it again at the end and it can give him the confidence to confess his feelings. And you can find all the questions you need to answer, all the set ups that need a pay off. But most importantly: It will remind you why you loved writing the story in the first place. You will read a scene and remember how much fun you had writing it, how excited you were to write the pay off, how happy you where when readers picked up on small details and it will get you motivated to write the ending that’s best for the story

Don’t be afraid to change the ending you had initially planned. It happens so often that the characters don’t do what you want them to do and sometimes your carefully crafted plan doesn’t fit anymore. And that’s ok. It can be frustrating but if you feel like a different ending would be more fitting, that means that it probably is

Mindset/ What to write:

There are ways to trick yourself into writing something you think you’re not good at. Like, I had to write a fight scene a while ago and good lord I’m bad at writing those. So I told myself, I’m actually writing a scene in which two women discover that there’s sexual tension between them, while one of them thinks the other will betray her. It just so happens that during the dialogue and gay panic, there’s also a fight happening.

if you don't like writing specific things, then don't. this is probably a terrible thing to do for published authors, but for fanfic, there's no need to force yourself to write something that's not fun for you. Like, I never describe the rooms people are in bc writing that is boring for me and this far no one has complained about that

when reading, take note of what you liked in that story (ie. a lot of internal monologue, a specific trope used, certain words, plot structure, ...) if you know what you like to read you can learn from that (bonus points if you also tell the author of the fic in a comment)

that random bit of inspiration you have? Write it down. make a one shot out of it if you want, or a longer story, or just a single sentence that captures the idea or the thing that inspired you. Maybe you can use it later

don't be afraid of getting inspired by "stupid" things. Inspiration is inspiration (like. I once wrote a fic for the sole reason that I was confused about a flower's colour. Is it a good fic? idk. But I sure know it was a lot of fun to write)

there's nothing wrong with writing an "overdone" trope. There's a reason why there are already tons of fic with that one trope you love. it's because it's an amazing trope and other people love it too!

on that note. You have no control over what people will like or not. Don't force yourself to write something you think people will like and don't stop yourself from writing something just because you think no one will read it. (Sometimes I write something and I think it'll be well received and then very few people read it. It's so incredibly disappointing. Then again, last year a wrote a fic as a joke bc it sounded like a fun concept. You can tell in my writing that I didn't think anyone would read it bc I included dumb jokes and repeated the same trope over and over again and it was just so so self indulgent. And guess what? It's one of my most popular fics. but even if no one would have read it, it would have still been a lot of fun to write bc it was so self indulgent)

Don't force yourself to write. Writing should be fun and if it isn't, take a break.It’s ok to abandon a story if it’s only making you feel bad to write. Writing should be fun and I promise you, the readers do not want you to work yourself into the ground for a story

Yet another writing ask

[enbeemagical]

Any hc about our sparkly elf, Aaravos?

If not him, Runaan and Ethari?

OHHHH YES

OH YES INDEEDY

you see, I rp Aaravos, which means he likes to talk in my head even when I would rather he shut up so I can go to sleep. And he has Lots Of Opinions. Occasionally I learn things he’d rather I not know, and that’s where I build from.

okay! Headcanons!!

Due to his experiences, Aaravos doesn’t just hate Avizandum, he’s actually dracophobic. 

He’s aroallo-- aromantic and allosexual (pan, usually). (I’m not entirely certain if I show that well in my rp, since Aaravos is so different from me. We’re both arospec, so that probably helps, but he’s allo and I’m ace and the blog is SFW, so idk anything lmao)

Yeah, Aaravos is good at flirting, but it’s never anything serious, you know? Flirting =/= attraction, and in fact flirting = no attraction. He’ll flirt with anything and anyone, but when he flusters and doesn’t quite know what to say, when he cuts the nicknames and teasing? That’s when you know he’s fallen.

Nicknames are just how he talks. He doesn’t bother remembering names unless they’re important to him. He’s sort of like Diana Wynne Jones’s Chrestomanci/Christopher Chant in that, except instead of calling Mr. Baslam “Mr. Bislow” he’d call him “dark mage.” He’ll use nicknames anytime on anyone, but name-names are only for people he respects/cares about. So he might call the dragon king “Avizandum,” because as much as he hates him, Avizandum imprisoned him, and  Aaravos can’t help but respect the power it took to imprison him, an Archmage. (I still haven’t convinced him to call Amaya by her name, even though he says he respects her. Wait a sec--)

Revised nickname headcanon: He uses names when he feels close to someone. Not just respect, though that has something to do with it. Names aren’t something he takes lightly. 

Okay, this got long, so there are two dozen more headcanons under the cut. They’re just in the order I thought of them, so they kind of jump around a bit, sorry. Angst and fluff.

Aaravos is basically a faerie. Not fairy like Tinkerbell; faerie like the high fae, like Oberon, Titania, and Puck. He’s extremely powerful, ethereally beautiful (though not all fae are), and he’s very careful with his wording.

Either Aaravos can lie and simply doesn’t, or he cannot lie and doesn’t want that to be known. (I choose to ignore the option of “he was lying when he said he never lies” because that hurts my brain.) “I’m not lying. I never lie.” Never, not cannot, which. Details, details.

He was betrayed. He ended up in the mirror because he was betrayed. They drugged him to seal away his magic so Avizandum could imprison him. I have several scenes of this in my head, but @alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice and I are using this is TSATS so I don’t want to give too much more away.

Ziard was Aaravos’s apprentice. They were kind of like Halt and Will in Ranger’s Apprentice. Only they invented dark magic together and Halt and Will didn’t use magic.

Dark magic causes nightmares until you learn it, if you don’t have training. Aaravos’s nightmares? The other Startouch elves leaving.

He’s afraid of being alone. He used to like it, spending hours and days and weeks alone with his books quite happily. But after he literally could not interact with anyone for three hundred years, he’d break if he had to be alone again.

He actually did break during those centuries. Multiple times. Screaming, crying, throwing things, trying to break things, windows, the mirror, anything. Even himself.

They’re antlers, not horns. Horns are one point, you get one (1) set for life, like adult teeth. Antlers have branches, and you get a new set every year. Aaravos... has feelings about this. 

Startouch elves spoke like a Shakespeare play. This one’s kind of silly, and entirely based around the line, “Yes, it’s well appointed, but make no mistake, this has been my prison these past few centuries!” and me thinking that “well appointed” sounded very Shakespearean and he could just as well have said “Yes, it’s quite nice, but make no mistake” etcetera (and a bit that I keep wanting to write “thou” when writing him lately). Anyway. Moving on.

Aaravos is a good animal trainer. He’s got the patience for it, and he’s smart. He’s probably trained lots of animals, of many different species. Clicker training, probably; definitely primarily positive reinforcement.

The horse? Is not a horse. It’s a couch. (I only go in for this one because I love the image of Aaravos jumping around on his couch like a little kid, draping himself all over the room. Funnily enough, how he rides is entirely plausible, given that I’m not even drinking age and I can ride my horse very similarly to how Aaravos rides. He’s millennia older than me; he could absolutely ride like that.)

Aaravos killed Queen Aditi and Queen Luna Tenebris. That’s a big reason why he was imprisoned. Yeah, the dark magic was part of it, but Ziard lived 1,000 years ago and Aaravos was only imprisoned 300 years ago. Either he managed to evade the authorities for 700 years, or something else was the tipping point. Maybe a bit of both.

Aaravos has killed a lot of people, for various reasons. Sometimes for revenge (I’d like to think Aditi killed Ziard, which is why Aaravos went after her), sometimes just for being in his way (he discarded the poor Sunfire priest way too casually).

If he really cares about someone, he will kill for them? Die for them? Nah, not really, he’d have to be absolutely crazily stupid with love for that. Kill for them? Absolutely, any day.

Oh and he does the murderously protective thing where he’s like, “Oh, and if anyone hurts you do let me know. I will be happy to talk to them about that. 💖🔪😇 ”

He doesn’t like children. Like, there are a few he cares about, but by and large he’s like “children? ugh, no, yuck.”

He doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he is in love. Period, fullstop.

For all his flirting and teasing, he knows how to respect no. I mean. Look at Xadia’s culture. Being queer is a total nonissue, women are actually treated as equal to men. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s hella better than here. Aaravos grew up in Xadia. He’s gonna respect people as people. Will he flirt insanely with everyone, whether they’re into him or not? Yeah. If he talks, he flirts. Will he make a move on someone who doesn’t want him to? No.

He loves cats. Need I say more?

He didn’t get any kind of trial, no chance to defend himself, to tell his side of the story. He was just betrayed and imprisoned.

Aaravos’s arrogance and vanity is a cover over some major self-esteem issues. Maybe he didn’t always have those, but during his imprisonment there were times he believed that he deserved it. That he was a monster, a soulless demon (like they said he was), and he didn’t deserve freedom. That he had no heart, that all he could do was hurt people, and anytime he tried to help he only ended up hurting more. Destruction and tragedy was all he could bring. He’d try not to believe that, forcing himself to remember good things he’d done, telling himself over and over again that he can help people he’s not a monster he’s not-- and he just. can’t. because he’s tried to help, yes, he saved Elarion and he killed for those he loved, but he killed, and not always to protect, and he even enjoyed it. He knows he’s done bad things, but he enjoyed them. Maybe he did deserve to be put in here, alone. Because if he deserved it, maybe when he’s suffered enough to atone he can be free, but if he was truly unjustly imprisoned then there will be no freedom. And this doesn’t make sense, and he knows it’s illogical, so he pulls on a mask of pride and confidence, hoping ‘fake it til you make it’ will work eventually, but underneath. Aaravos. Is. Broken.

Aaravos likes humans in general more than elves in general. They tend to be less judgey at him and they look up to him. Nice ego boost there, the admiration.

He also likes animals, especially now. They don’t judge him based on any criteria a human, elf, or dragon might use. They just care how he personally treats them specifically, and he’s good to them so they love him. They don’t ask anything more of him than that, no relentless demands on his time, and they can just happily coexist in companionable silence. Humans tend to be less good at that.

His favorite fiction books are romance novels. He does like the different ones, the cliche-benders that turn tropes on their heads, but sometimes there’s nothing like curling up with a cheesy, predictable, well-loved story and a cup of hot chocolate.

So, anon, this live up to your expectations?

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

bro I sent the matt/kate ask and you gave me kate/frank feelings so like if you want to can I have that as well?

How dare you. i have been waiting for years to be asked about frankate (also i feel the need to clarify that this is very specifically Nazar-fic-Kate)

What was their first impression of each other?

“this fucking idiot” basically. they meet when Matt is chained to the roof and Kate is like “pls stop terrorizing my bf” and frank is like “your bf is a moron”

What is their ship name?

Frankate...frankkate? anything that’s a chess pun (bishop...castle...get it...)

in my WIPs they’re spooks and snipers

Describe their relationship dynamic.

Kate: FRANK NO

Frank: FRANK YES

it’s honestly a lot of philosophical discussions about killing people, Frank calling Kate out on her bullshit, and Kate acting as an impulse check. One of the BIG THINGS with this relationship is Kate realizing that Frank can and will kill someone if she asks him to, no questions asked, and that is both terrifying and a turn on. The fact that Frank trusts her moral compass so completely--he realizes that he’s a little fucked up when it comes to that, so he will look to her for the thumbs up/thumbs down kind of thing. 

like. to the point Kate has to kick Frank out of a fancy Bishop party because if he stays she knows she’ll ask him to kill her dad and he WILL.

What was their relationship like before they got together?

once they got done bitching at each other over Daredevil (and Kate yelled at him a LOT) they worked pretty well together? Kate helped Frank figure out the drug smuggling thing (turns out Derek Bishop was involved with that). They would get each other coffee and check in with each other’s mental health. Frank is very soft with her, in a lot of ways. But also not, they did beat each other up at least once and Frank shot her very much on purpose but they always were fond of each other. 

once they meet back up after Matt ~dies~ they’re....really, really good for each other. Kate feels like she’s able to be honest with Frank in a way she can’t be with anyone else, because what the hell could she say that would scandalize Frank? She doesn’t need to step lightly around him because Frank’s never stepped lightly in his life. Kate feeling like she has more leeway to be brutally honest around Frank means he feels freer to be honest around her, and she’s seen some shit so he respects her in a way he doesn’t respect a lot of people. 

Kate gets to be angry around Frank in a way she can’t with anyone else, except maybe Clint, and that’s really important.

They both like coffee and dogs, i mean, what more do you need

How would they describe each other?

Kate: That asshole

Frank: fuckin’ fed

What do they love about each other?

absolutely nothing. they barely even know each other! what are you talking about?? go away.

they love how fighty the other is, even if it drives them crazy. the inability to leave well enough alone, the willingness to do stupid stuff together.

What do they have in common?

WEAPONS. Kate doesn’t use guns professionally but she does love going to a range every now and then. Kate knows bows and grenade launchers and long range rifles, but doesn’t care for handguns. so there’s a lot of very sexually charged shooting dates where Kate lets Frank put his hands on her and around her to correct her grip, and he knows she’s just letting him, for the most part, but they both like it. she teaches him how to use a bow, and he’s terrible. it doesn’t help that Kate smells really good and she’s very very close and he’s never going to need to know how to shoot a recurve, so he doesn’t feel bad about not paying attention. Kate has general gun knowledge so he gets super obscure stuff to teach her how to shoot. like a musket, or the kind of rifle you’d take down a hippo with, something with a shitton of recoil so he can brace her against him. He’s not a proud man, okay, he’ll take his excuses to hold Kate close in public wherever he can

Frank likes dressing Kate up in body armor and Kate likes dressing Frank up in sweaters and suits. 

Also dogs. The have Lucky, and the dog Frank rescues. Kate names him something terrible. Like Charm (lucky and charm, get it?) or (apple) Jack (lucky charms and apple jacks) or Oberon

What are some differences between them?

Frank is very willing to kill. Kate is not. Frank is very mission-oriented--he’s a soldier, he gets a job, he does it. Kate’s been a leader, she’s worked with bureaucracy, she thinks about the optics of situations (yes it makes sense to have a shootout on the boardwalk but perhaps we could go to a less family-friendly location?)

What made them realize they were in love?

almost losing each other--or thinking they were almost losing each other. also, the day Sarah Lieberman kisses Frank. That’s when Frank has the realization of “okay, the kissing, that’s fine, but there’s actually someone specific I’d like to do this with” and with Kate it was more like “ (: i’m so happy ((: frank has found some happiness. i am not jealous of him kissing someone else (((: that would be silly”

What are their love languages?

so much physical affection. so much wound bandaging. Frank bringing Kate coffee to work or food to a stakeout. Beating up muggers together. Cooking together, they’re so disgustingly domestic. cuddling. all the time cuddling. hands in back pockets, pinkies linked, Frank just COCOONS her in bed (which is not to say Kate is always the little spoon. Frank loves being little spoon every now and then) they both get very octopus-limbed with each other. “if i’m plastered to you you can’t leave without me” kind of thing. they’re lowkey possessive

Do they get married? Who proposes and how?

Frank proposes, but getting to that point is a team effort, yanno? They're out in LA and Kate's in the kitchen stock still because she's living??? With Frank castle??? And kind of has been for a WHILE? And Frank's wrestling with Lucky and Kate suddenly realizes she loves him so much and there's like pasta boiling on the stove and its domestic and unexciting and neither of them are bleeding and Kate sort of dazedly says “hey Frank, would you be interested in getting married someday?”

and Frank doesn’t answer, just rummages around in one of his bags, pulls out a small box that he tosses to her. Inside is a ring. “took you long enough,” he says

What would happen if they never met?

they’re both very sad and depressed. i feel like being with Kate gives Frank more moral nuance and being with Frank makes Kate rawer, in a way. So without each other, they are really closed off emotionally. Kind of frozen.

Who dies first? How does the other one react?

Woooof ok Frank probably dies first and Kate is fucking FURIOUS about it. It's not unexpected because hes the punisher for god's sake, and he's older than her by almost a decade but still

It could happen, though, that Kate dies first, sudden and unexpected. And Frank loses. His. Shit. Idk who kills her, Fisk or Masque or Russo or all three, but you can bet your ass Frank gets his bloody revenge. And he doesn't technically kill himself, but he's reckless and gets shot a lot and bleeds out on Kate's grave. Yeah.

Are there any love rivals?

BILLY RUSSO, Totes makes a move on Kate, and also he’s in love with Frank so there’s that. 

Matt isn’t really a rival? In a perfect world they’re ot3 but do not ask me how we get from Matt pretending to be dead to a happy healthy polyamorous relationship, i don’t know

Describe your favorite moment of that ship!

the pining! the mutual yearning! and both of them are like “this is not a good time for a relationship” and then the dumb jealousy! Frank is jealous of Billy Russo, who is trying to get Kate to work for him, and Kate is jealous of Micro’s wife, Sarah, when she kisses Frank, the YEARNING

What do other characters think about this relationship?

“What. the hap. is fuckening”

Micro gets it, he thinks they’re idiots and adorable af, you know, for people who are such deadly shots, but most of the people on Kate’s side of the equation just don’t get it or think Frank’s a rebound. America and Cassie are the first ones to realize he’s sticking around.

Karen’s not to sure about them, but she likes them both and thinks they’re good for each other. 

Curtis think they’re both morons (fond) but in different ways so they balance out.

Most people on Frank’s side of the equation get it. People on Kate’s side are like “you went from self-castigating catholic lawyer to vengeance-fueled murder machine, are you ok?” 

Describe or write a really fluffy scene!

ohhhh ok so this is. probably one of my favorite scenes ever. not because it’s particularly well-written, but because i like the idea behind it

Kate has her legs wrapped around Frank, her arms draped over his shoulders as they watch the sun set over the ocean. He is very much a person to drape oneself over.

"Frank," she says, a touch of reverence in her voice as the light catches something. "Frank."

"What?"

"You've got grey hair."

"The fuck? Seriously, Spook, you gotta point that out when we're doing the romantic thing?"

Kate wraps her hands around his skull, tipping it this way and that. It's hard to tell when he has it this short but—yeah. It's there. Kate swallows down an unexpected lump in her throat as Frank continues to bitch until she drapes herself more over his shoulder and turns his head so she can shut him up with a kiss.

Kisses.

A lot of kisses, actually.

"Jesus," he pulls back after a minute, the pad of his thumb rough on her cheek as he swipes at the moisture under her eyes. "You cryin' over some grey hairs?"

"I didn't think you'd stick around long enough for me to see them," she admits.

"Not goin' anywhere, Spook. You're stuck with me."

He's not getting it. Kate presses her forehead against his, her fingers finding the spot where a bullet entered his head and changed his life. "Frank, I didn't think you'd be alive long enough to get them."

Describe or write a really angsty scene!

how about matt comes back aftermath

“You’re not going to make me choose?” Kate’s voice slips out of neutral, into something like hope. Not the kind of thing she’d ever thought Frank would be suggesting, but--

“I’m not gonna make you choose, no.” He smiles at her, a wrong kind of smile, and turns slowly, heading towards the door. His hand is on the knob before her brain processes this enough to send words to her mouth.

“Where—what are you doing, Frank?”

He doesn’t face her. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re—leaving.” The words feel strange, they sour in her mouth and panic wraps brittle fingers around her throat, choking her. “Why—are you leaving?”

“I just said, Spook. Not gonna make you pick.”

Realization and rage burn through her, bright and quick. “So you’re leaving? You’re not making me choose because you’re doing the choosing for me?”

“That’s what you want.”

“No it’s not! Stop making decisions for me! I don’t—I don’t know what I want, yeah, but I know what I don’t want!”

“You told me you still love him. Best thing is for me to go.” He says it with no inflection, as if he wasn’t ripping Kate’s heart out and his too.

“No, I don’t want you to leave! You leaving is the opposite of what I want because what I want--” her voice breaks. “Is for you to stay. I don’t know what to do, but I don’t want you to leave, Frank. I love him, but he left me. He hurt me. And I love you, too. And I like you, which is more important, sometimes, and you helped me when I couldn’t find myself, you just—you let me be, you let me be angry and ugly and awful and you didn’t make me apologize for it or feel sorry about it, or guilty. And I owe you for that—that’s not why I want you to stay, but if you do stay because of it—god, that’s bad, right?” She takes a shaky breath. “Frank. Please stay. I want you to stay.”

Talk about a headcanon you’ve never talked about before.

Frank poses as Kate’s bodyguard when she’s Kate Bishop, heiress who doesn’t know self defense. They were at a party and Kate’s sister Susan was like “huh, you look a lot like mass murderer frank castle, there, pal.”

and of course frank says no he’s not he gets that a lot, and Susan gets right up close to him and says “i don’t care who you are, i just see how my little sister looks at you, and if you break her heart like the last guy did i will litigate your ass into the ground, sir. the GROUND”

also, like, an entire 1920s mafia au where derek is the man behind frank’s family being killed (which is why frank is working for him) and he’s kate’s bodyguard and he covers for her sneaking out and kicking ass

What does a typical date look like for them?

not to be basic but walking dogs and drinking coffee together. stopping a drug deal along the way. going to a shooting range. 

What’s a really significant moment in their relationship?

Frank gets roped into being Kate’s backup on a SHIELD mission. Frank takes a shot at the target and Kate’s pissed because she was supposed to take the shot, and it’s this whole thing. About Kate being angry that Frank could have been made and Frank being angry that Kate wouldn’t take the shot, putting herself in danger, and both of them are just PISSED until they realize that both of them are just AFRAID and FRANTIC. they’re both just like “what would I do if something happened to you?? huh???

[dungeonqueering]

Let's talk about knives!

I have a fairly standard Knife Block, which contains every kind of knife I will reasonably need. I can and do use each one regularly. Later in this post I'll go over what you need as an absolute minimum (You can get by with 2: Big And Small)

I recommend getting a knife block like this. It has almost everything you could possibly need. This one normally retails for $24, but I picked it because it was half off at the time.

I found this one for $20 which is very similar.

Are they going to be nice knives? No. Will they be good enough for everyone except a professional? Yeah, for the most part. I use them for nearly everything.

You can get ceramic knives which are INCREDIBLY sharp. However, you can't sharpen them at home, so they aren't worth it. I was gifted a set, and now that they've started to chip, they're darn near worthless, which is a shame.

I do also have two VERY nice knives, I received as gifts.

This Chef's Knife:

And this Santoku:

Are the nicer ones worth it? Personally, no. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE having them. I'm thinking about getting a whetstone for when it's time to sharpen them (they are used less and hold an edge longer) rather than taking them in to have them sharpened. They are amazing, well balanced, incredibly sharp, and also $30 each. Idk about you, but I am not in the "I spent $30 on a single knife" income bracket.

So! What are your knives used for?

The Chef's Knife is an all-purpose knife. There is a reason it is the go-to knife seen a chef wielding in media. You can use it to cut, chop, or dice nearly ingredient. This is your most important knife. Rapid chopping uses kind of a rocking motion, but if you are reading this post you probably don't need to worry about that. I sure don't. We aren't on Chopped, we can take our time.

Use the very tip of your knives for small and precise work, and the middle all the way down to the grip end for cutting, slicing, chopping, etc.

How do you grip a Chef's Knife? For maximum control, it is recommended you pinch the blade right about here

Such that most of your hand is on the handle proper, but you are in fact pinching down on the blade. If that makes you uncomfortable, I used to do this grip:

Which still gives you a fair degree of control and strength, but not quite as much control. It feels less scary, though.

The Santoku is another general purpose knife. Instead of a rocking motion, it uses more of a chopping motion. I use it mostly when I only need to cut vegetables. Less pointy.

The Bread Knife has it in the name. The reason you want one of these is for bread is because the gentle serration allows you to cut through tougher crust without mushing the soft bread. I use it for Ciabatta pretty often, but unless you cut a lot of bread, you really honestly don't need one of these. Least used knife in my block.

The Utility Knife used to be my most used knife when I was intimidated by the Chef's knife and it felt like a waste to use such a big knife for small things. It is another all-purpose knife, and is my second most used knife. It's excellent for anything fiat-sized and smaller. Because you can't grip the blade, you have less control than a Chef's knife, so I don't recommend it for precision cuts on tough materials, I.e. if you are trying to cut a carrot in half lengthwise.

The Paring Knife seems like a smaller utility knife, and it more or less is. Best used for small delicate cuts on things like garlic cloves, fresh herbs, shallots, etc.

Kitchen shears are mostly used to open packages, let's be real. They can be used to cut through tough bits, like if you have to separate bones from each other. I only use it for packaging though. And tape sometimes. I am not nice to my shears. The opposite of Fabric Scissors.

But what about that weird metal rod, Liz? We'll get to that when we cover--

Maintenance

How do you take care of these things, you may ask. The answer is a little bit variable, but I'll assume you have the cheaper knives.

First things first, if you DO have the nicer knives, do not sharpen them with anything but a whetstone, please I beg you.

You should sharpen your knives whenever you think they are getting dull. Have you ever seen that thing people do where they try to cut a piece of paper with a knife while the paper is not laying on a surface, or just by pulling the paper into the knife? Give her a go. You can learn to tell be looking at the blade up close or by feel, but I have absolutely no idea how to explain that. Consider doing it once a month or once every two weeks or something.

You should Hone the knife every 1-3 times you use it.

So, for sharpening, first thing you're going to want to do is get one of these bad bois:

Hold it like this on the corner of your countertop or a table (I am using the stove because my counters have rounded edges). Place the back/bottom of the blade in the section that reads coarse, and pull it towards you. This is not cutting towards you, but please be careful. Do this 5 times, then do it 5 more times on the side that says Fine. The knife should be parallel to the flat surface, and please please please do not cut yourself.

When you are done, clean the blade because there will be some metal filings on it and you don't want that in your Tikka Masala. You should instantly notice it cuts smoother. Sharper knives are actually safer, because you are less likely to cut yourself. Oh, also, consider reading on what to do if you cut yourself now instead of googling it when it happens like I did. (Tw: blood, cuts, etc)

On to Honing!

You see a lot of flashy honing methods on cooking shows, but here is how you should actually do it at home.

Press the tip of your honing rod (no jokes allowed) against a flat surface. I use my cutting board so that if I fuck it up, I only cut the cutting board. Place the rear of the knife towards the top of the honing rod, and bring it downwards while also pulling back. It was a weird motion to get used to, but there are tons of videos on it if my .gif isn't sufficient.

The angle here is very important. My cheaper knives need a 30° angle, but my nicer ones need a 15°. You will get a sense for it. What this is basically doing is straightening out the tiny warps and abrasions a knife gets from use. (You can double the life of a razor by running it backwards across a towel or jeans, which does the same thing to your 5 razor blades as this honing rod does to the knife).

Washing

Ideally, hand wash your knives the same day you use them. I use a sponge, hot water, and Dawn. Do not put it in the dishwasher. Yes, the serrated ones will fuck up your sponge. It's OK. The dishwasher can ruin your knives.

When you wash them, make sure to keep the sharp edge facing away from your body. I place the spine of the knife on the sponge, and fold the sponge over, so that the actual cutting edge isn't slicing the sponge.

Final Note: Cutting Boards. Don't get glass, that messes up your knives. You want plastic or wood. Plastic has to be replaced more often, but cheaper and can be machine washed. Wood looks nicer, but is more expensive and you can't cut meat on it (Bacteria can get all up in it more so than with plastic. Plus, wood can't be machine washed.

Ideally, you want to get the biggest cutting board your counter tops will fit. I promise that a bigger board is better.

I hope this helps. Go forth and cut well. Be safe, have fun, eat good food, impress your friends and loved ones.

[bigskydreaming]

So I’m writing a short story in my Changelings ‘verse for a galaxy brain commission that was simply “Boyd gets a boyfriend.” Nothing wrong there. But it does mean I feel like I finally gotta nail down the full intricacies of Boyd’s magic, which is unnecessarily....extra, due to the existence of the Curse of the Specialist Snowflake that afflicts me. 

Like, I couldn’t just give him one physical change and one magic like most other Changelings, nooooooo, he’s gotta be the Zodiac Kid and have twelve completely different changes and magics, one for each sign and he changes throughout the year in accordance to the changing of the signs. Why’d I do it that way? Cuz I gotta, obviously. Hahahaha, shut up, me.

I mean, there was a point to it originally, like, his sister Alicia’s Change and magic is that she’s surrounded by ghostly versions of a bunch of her alternate universe selves at any given moment, and she can communicate with them and call upon their skills and is sometimes called Sibyl around town, so like, the common thread/theme of her and Boyd’s magic is like, an infinity of self, but also, by “there was a point to it originally” I also just mean I couldn’t settle on and pick what I wanted Boyd’s magic to be so I was like here’s a fun thing I could do, make up a reason for him to have even MORE options.

.....I feel like, potentially, this self-created problem I’m having could have been avoided somehow, but gosh, fuck if I can see how.

So most of Boyd’s magic is hammered down....

In his Sagittarius phase, he’s physically a centaur whose lower half looks like a night sky studded through with starfields and moving constellations, and his magic from November 23rd to December 21st is uncanny intuition, a kind of off-the-top-of-his-head divination. He just instinctively knows the answers to questions when he’s in his Sagittarius phase, the more specific the question the more accurate his answer. He doesn’t have context, he doesn’t KNOW how he knows the things that he knows, he just knows them. 

You ask him if you’ll meet someone who could very plausibly be the love of your life within the next week, and if he says yes, its absolutely, one hundred percent true and accurate.....but if you ask him then how can I find them, he might say well first thing you gotta do is get out of my face and stop bugging me, and then walk down the street and turn left.....and that too, would be absolutely true and accurately point you in the direction that answers your question but like, that’s all he’s got and you’re missing a few steps at that point. So. Its not an exact science or anything. 

There’s definitely tricks to maximizing the intel you get out of him when he feels like being hit up for intel and doesn’t just string you along to be a total troll. Which he is. Hence why he also spends most of December filling in all of Alicia’s large stockpile of crosswords and sudokus, as he just instinctively and whimsically knows what to fill in even if he doesn’t actually have a clue WHY the Mesozoic Era is the answer to 49 Down. Alicia maintains this is cheating. He maintains he doesn’t care, and answers 64 across with “Johannesburg.” Fuck if he knows why.

In his Capricorn phase, he sublets his apartment in Bordertown and takes a month lease on a place underwater in Sub Francisco.....as for this period he’s more of a classical merman, but also if a classical merman has goat horns. But like, whose to say they don’t? Have you ever met one? Thought so. His magic during this period is horns of plenty.....he touches something to one of his horns, and comes away holding two of that item. So it basically only works on things that can be hand-held, but other than that it could be food, physical items, medicine, etc.

In his Aquarius phase, he’s physically the same as he was when a normal mainstream human....except that his skin has a faintly translucent quality as if that of water, with faint stars spiraling in distant patterns in the depths of his slightly watery form. He’s not invisible or actually translucent, like you can’t see through him or even see his organs or anything....rather, its more like most of the time he just looks like normal, human Boyd, albeit wearing a lot of glitter for some reason....but then he turns and catches the light just so, and for a moment you can see how the light is shining THROUGH him similar to the way it shines through the surface of a body of water. His magic in this phase is based on Ganymede, the cup-bearer of the gods.....water he touches becomes imbued with healing properties. 

Like, he unscrews an ordinary bottle of Evian and reaches in with the tip of his finger, and whammo, you’ve got a healing potion whose magic will last until the last of the water is gone, even if its not used until after his Aquarius phase. Once he’s imbued a source of water with his magic, its a healing potion from then on out, which makes his shop a useful place to find healing magic year-round.....or at least until he runs out. You come into his shop even in late July, if he’s still got some healing potions lying around they’re as good as ever....but if he’s already out of stock, you’re out of luck until next year’s Aquarius phase rolls around, and you gotta go look elsewhere on Mercy Row for a healer in the meanwhile.

In his Pisces phase, he goes back to his Sub Francisco apartment as his physical Change here is that of a centaur-triton....kinda the classic ithyocentaur, but also he’s got kinda webbed-like wings spanning from his back.....its a whole thing. But a good look. His magic in this phase is ‘the perfect pair’....he cups his hands and forms a magical, elemental construct in the shape of a koi fish that’ll swim off in the direction of the perfect complement to something or someone. Like a personal, magical compass guiding him or whomever he makes one for to like, the magnetic north that exists somewhere as the perfect counterpart to an already present south pole. Whatever, this makes no sense and is super confusing, I get that. But it makes perfect sense and is not confusing in my head. Still just working on translating from point Head to point Paper without the concept getting lost in the translation.

In his Aries phase, he’s his ‘normal’ mainstream-appearing base form....but also he’s got golden wings and ram horns. And his magic is that he breathes fire. But its magic fire, and it doesn’t burn things it touches, it turns them to gold. Its a whole Golden Fleece thing mixed with a King Midas thing.

In his Taurus phase.....idk yet. I mean, bull horns seems a pretty obvious go-to motif, but haven’t decided for his magic yet. Mostly because @sunwukxng is a Taurus and he takes things like this juuuuuuuust personal enough that I know if I don’t come up with something good here he’ll decide its a mortal insult towards all Tauri and thus him as well, and he’ll declare a blood feud against me that shall last five hundred years. And he’s already got like, six of those in progress, so....trying to avoid racking up anymore.

In his Gemini phase, he splits into two selves, his physical self and astral self, so he’s basically followed everywhere by both his shadow and a spirit version of himself he can astral project elsewhere. And when his astral self goes through something, kinda like how there’s that idea that when a ghost passes through someone they feel a chill or as if they almost left their body for a second.....his astral self can kinda like....yoink other peoples’ astral selves out of their physical forms temporarily. Yoink is of course the highly technical, scientific term for the phenomenon. Obviously.

In his Cancer phase.....idk yet. Look, its hard to be classy and deep concept-y about crabs, okay? I’m sorry Cancers, but even in the original myths about the constellation the gods were like yeah, this crab constellation was a mistake, we just felt bad about Artemis kicking that one all the way up into the heavens after it pinched Orion, the only himbo she ever almost made a boytoy out of. A lot of other Zodiacs featured animals that had the common perception of being viewed as pushing the sun across the sky, so there’s maybe something there in that direction....idk yet.

In his Leo phase, Boyd mostly appears as his ‘normal’ base mainstream-human looking self....except he’s big in a way that is not exactly Giant Big (and there are a good couple dozen giant-sized Changelings living in Bordertown, so like, he isn’t officially anywhere near that) but he is possessed of a height and size that are nevertheless best described as Ridiculous. Like he’s bigger than the Strange Angel, but not as big as Teddy the Sun-snake. That means nothing to anyone but me. Whatever. Moving on. Anyway, in his Leo phase he also has a fiery red mane kinda....that’s threaded through with silver stars in the Leo constellation shape. His magic in this phase is his ‘roar of command’....basically, he can imbue anything he says with the force of his will, and thus like.....make inanimate objects do what he tells them. He’s like “Open sesame” and a locked door is like you got it, boss.

In his Virgo phase.....I am not entirely sure what he looks like yet. I’m pretty sure its mostly his mainstream-looking ‘base self’ but like.....with an unnatural charisma, but also something a little less generic than that. Needs a specific hook still, beyond just “I’m ridick pretty.” Like, he’s Sinqua Walls. He’s always ridick pretty. Its a thing. But his magic in this phase is like.....an aura of inspiration. He just sorta puts out a vibe that inspires people around him in various ways that are unique to the individual. 

He’s also way shorter than he used to be even before his Change hit, or like, shorter than he is in any of his other phases. Like, we’re talking five and a half feet max. Is there any reason for this whatsoever beyond me being amused at the juxtaposition of him going from his Biggest and Most Ridiculous Phase immediately to his Smallest and Most Ridiculous Phase? No. No there is not. Fear the deep profundity of my creative process, for it is deep and it tis profound.

In his Libra phase....I’m not sure yet what his physical change is, but I do know his skin has a scaled texture, and I know those aren’t the scales normally associated with Libra but there’s a point to it, its just......missing some ingredients still to totally make sense. But he also tends to wear a blindfold a lot of the time during his Libra phase because I know his magic here has to do with viewing things in terms of overlapping possibilities and potentialities, like, he looks at things and sees not just the way they ARE but also a whole bunch of different ways they COULD be, and his magic enables him to kinda tweak things from the way they are more towards one of those other possibilities, in a sense that’s all about ‘balancing’ things.

However, the sensory stimuli of all those potentialities 24/7 is honestly overwhelming and gives him serious migraines, so he mostly tries to rest his eyes behind some kind of blindfold most of the time and just take it off to focus on specific things in order to utilize his magic, and only a little at a time. This is probably the most technically ‘powerful’ of his magics in terms of both versatility and scope, but it takes a toll and he really tries to pace himself during his Libra phase or it just gets to be too much, really fast.

And then lastly, in his Scorpio phase, he’s got a whole scorpion tail and barbed stingers along the outsides of his arms.....but rather than lean into the whole ‘eww Scorpios are duplicitous and manipulative’ and also ‘eww scorpions,’ his magic here calls back to how scorpions are actually protective guardians in a lot of mythologies and folklore, and there’s also plenty of Zodiac lore about the idea of the Scorpio sign being all about uncovering truths at any cost, etc. So his magic here is another ‘liquid/mutable’ type and takes the form of venom from his stingers that’s almost like drops of amber.....and that have various properties aimed at uncovering truths and exposing lies and falsehoods. Like, elixirs made during his Scorpio phase are another highly sought ware at his shop, because depending on the venom concentration he places in each, they have different properties. Like, he’s got vials where just a drop placed in your drink or on your food will reveal if its been drugged or poisoned, or vials of elixirs that basically act as magical truth serum.....and then other vials where like, you splash a little of it on something you suspect to be an illusion or a magical disguise of some kind, and it’ll dispel the false magic and reveal what’s truly there. 

“What happens if like, I splash it in the face of someone I think is wearing an illusion disguise and it turns out they’re not and that’s really just what they look like?” A customer asks.

Boyd shrugs. “Then they’ll just be wet. And probably a little pissed, I imagine. That’ll be $49.95 please.”

“I thought you said it was $29.95!”

“That was before the Asked Stupid Questions tax was applied,” Boyd smiles placidly. “Will that be cash or credit?”

 Okay. So. Typing that all out cleared up some of that for me but not quite as much as I was hoping as Cancer and Taurus apparently still persist in Vexing me.

Hmmmm.

[devourer--of--books]

Callis was Gavaldon’s first witch gynecologist and here’s why

Okay so, in this post we’ll be discussing topics such as sex, contraception, and some religion in the context of it being used as a mean to control people sexually. 

If you’re younger than 13, honestly, this post isn’t for you. 

If you’re unlucky, like me, and your school didn't give you proper sex ed, I beg you to ask someone about it. Your older sibling, your mom, someone, okay? Ask google. It’s important stuff you need to know.

First of all, for composure’s sake, let’s all pretend I didn’t start thinking of this due to me writing a smut fic. At 4am, on my tablet notes. On my defense, tho, there’s an astonishing lack of E-rated fics on this fandom and someone ought do it, okay? Moving on.

So, where shall we start?

Let’s get context out of the way, welcome to my analyses, the actual headcanons are here, I promise, let me just bore you to death first:

The SGE book series overall is set in fantasy fairytale land (The Endless Woods), with the exception of Gavaldon, aka, the reader village. Due to this, there’s not really a time period liking the SGE world to ours, neither can it be presumed by the world building, as Soman mixes traditional medieval elements  with modern elements, which I know bothers some of you too, it ain’t just me, but nevermind that right now.

The point is, the arguments I’m making on this post are based on aspects mentioned in the books, but I’m also going to draw some information from the real world.

A big chunk of the first two books rely on the world the existence of a patriarchal structure in that world, as do some plot points during the rest of the series, but if I were to dive into that we’d be here all night. Talking about the Endless Woods social structure is very complicated, specially with the ‘no labels in the woods’ stuff combined with the misogyny. It’s messy. 

Thankfully for this post, we’ll only go into Gavaldon, because I feel things there are more… explicit (pun intended).

So here’s what we know of Gavaldon’s social structure pre-book 1:

It’s a decent sized village with no official government. There’s no political figure of power, such as prince or a mayor, as they eventually get in QFG. There also doesn’t seem to be an actual economic class distinction between the people of Gavaldon, other than mentions of beggars (pretty sure it’s just one tho, but I might be wrong). Everyone works and trades amongst themselves, with people having more or less the same things (except for Callis and Agatha, due to them being social outcasts). 

Who has power in Gavaldon?

The Elders Council. They make the laws, they are respected, they have influence, and therefore they have power. These dudes stopped people from selling food to Stefan’s family during book 2, and threatened his new family in front of everybody during book 3. And everyone in Gavaldon loved that man. Why are they powerful tho?

Power is born out of inequality. If you have what we have not, we follow where you lead. Gavaldon has no nobles and no bourgeoisie. Geez, I wonder which powerful class we’re missing.

The clergy.

Personally, I hold no love for the church. I’m an atheist, but, as this post is about SGE and not religion, I’ll try to be as neutral as possible, as the point is not to offend or disrespect anyone. When I mention ‘religion’ or ‘clergy’ from this point on, I’m talking about religion as an Institution. As in the Medieval Catholic Church (which if you don’t agree was at least kind of very evil, I don’t know if I want you reading my posts anyway, so feel free to leave).

Most likely, the members of Elders Council of Galvadon were linked to its Church, whatever religion they may have. I can’t see any reason why they would have so much influence otherwise. Who appoints new men to the positions once one of them dies? I’m gonna guess the remaining members of the Council. 

And no one said anything? For centuries. Okay. Corruption? Never heard of her.

Also, burning unmarried women as a way to solve problems claiming they were witches? Wonder where I’ve seen this before.

The fact they’re men, should get mentioned too, just in case you forgot. I bet there are women just as old and wise, if not wiser than the members of the council. Hm, wow why they’re not part of the council.

This hypothesis ties in with the fact that the education given to the kids is limited to the local school, which, given the lack of government and simplicity of work relations, is probably funded by the clergy. We don’t see any proof of this, but again, if we’re comparing Galvadon to a medieval village, it would make sense.

What is even taught at this school? Math and whatever language they speak there, sure, but like they have little to no history that we know of, geography would be pointless, there are no foreign languages, science who, and with these clowns running the village I’ll bet there is no philosophy or social studies and... Doesn’t matter, let’s not do this right now.

Callis briefly mentioned that all girls in Galvadon must marry before the end of their school education, or they are deemed witches. The Elders Council even chooses the matches, in case those aren’t naturally formed or if they disagree with pre-existing ones. These kids are what,15,16, maybe younger?

(this makes me so mad, you have no idea-)

ANYWAY. They form these child marriages, for... look I’m gonna presume is because of population reposition. They need an average of 2 kids per couple or they’ll have more people dying than people being born. Let’s just presume it’s because of this because if it’s because of some tradition stuff I’ll scream, okay?

Maybe they have a low life expectancy in Gavaldon (which is another evidence for the case that the elders are part of the clergy, they probably don’t work, so they live longer). 

So have them teenage girls poping them babies, I guess.

Also, a miracle they have survived this long, because the genetic pool for Gavaldon must be the worst ever, everyone is related to everyone, ew. At least, in theory, there would be no STIs.

In theory.

Ahem… During the middle ages, all forms of birth control tended to be frowned upon, at least here on the west, including coitus interruptus (aka, pull out method), (tho it depends of who was the pope at the time, some of them were cool with this one if you already had too many kids and was like super poor), because sex was supposed to be about procreating, so a marriage with no kids was ‘pointless’. 

(hear me raging in the background, this context is stressing me out, i just wanna get to the headcanons-)

We can assume this view is probably compatible with the Elders Council mindset, as they are marrying CHILDREN. 

If there were any available contraceptive methods, you can bet they weren’t teaching this stuff at school. They probably have no sex ed, and if they do, it’s going to be just about periods and vague stuff. Gotta love them church schools (I never went to one, officially, but honestly, I live in Brazil, what even is Secular State).

(“Don’t have sex before marriage, you’re gonna get pregnant and die”, - one of the teachers at the Galvadon school at some point, I bet)

Let me also mention that there is an specific Gavaldon law that states that if a girl is pregnant she is going to marry the boy who knocked her up. Which, specially in Vanessa’s case, makes no f-ing sense. Could she prove it was Stefan’s? Did she sent it to a DNA lab? If Stefan was the Elders favorite why would they not take his word?

I digress, let’s say Stefan didn’t deny sleeping with her and only said he was under a spell, which, hm, how dumb do you have to be to do that, it’s lying 101, Stefan c’mon, but okay, you do you.

So they are probably super “moral” in Galvadon. You know, the kind of moral who just swipes stuff under the rug. Like, yeah, Stefan you’re now doomed to marrying Vanessa, but ain’t nobody gonna say a thing if you cheat on her as long as you don’t do it during plain daylight.

(The amount of closeted gays in Gavaldon is probably astronomical, can you imagine?)

And then you have Callis. Whom I think is probably responsible for the introduction of birth control in Gavaldon. We have arrived at the headcanons. Hear me out:

After Stefan saved Callis, she was deemed a witch. She’s a ‘witch’ doctor for the town. Only the most desperate of people seek her out. 

That means she normally wouldn’t get a lot of patients. Like, Idk about you, but Gavaldon doesn’t seem big enough for her to have people looking for her everyday. And she probably had to feed Agatha somehow.

But, while her being a doctor for normal diseases wasn’t really working all that well, everyone knew she had a hand in Vanessa’s miracle child. So ‘infertile’ women and women who had been getting sickly during pregnancies start looking for her, asking for her to help them. 

Callis obviously doesn’t use her magic, but as she can’t say she used magic for Vanessa, she gives them generally good advice about herbs and stuff they can add to their food to make it ‘more likely’, aka stuff that reduces stress, telling them how to eat better, stuff they should avoid, etc. She’s no big expert, but at least in the Endless Woods they had sex ed and she was witch, she just knows stuff.

So she becomes this sort of witch gynecologist for Gavaldon’s desperate women.

It works for a while, but then people eventually share these tips amongst themselves to avoid going to see her. Then, it’s back to slightly starving herself so baby Agatha could eat.

One day, a teenage girl arrives at her doorstep in the middle of the night, trading food for her help. If she could ‘make people more fertile’, she could surely make them miscarriage. Maybe this girl got pregnant by sleeping with someone the elders didn’t aprove for her to marry, maybe it was something else a bit darker, but we won’t talk about how that could be common, given you could literally force someone to marry you if they had your child.

Callis panics, because she wasn't ‘making anyone more fertile’ really, she was making them healthier and therefore more likely to have a healthy kid. If she were to tell her to do the reverse of what she told the others, not only it wouldn’t work, but it would actually harm the girl’s health.

At first she’s like, “I can’t help you…”, but then she hears baby Agatha crying, poor thing, so hungry all the time. So Callis decides, “you know what, might as well”.

There’s probably many potions made with magic one could take to not have a baby in the Woods. Even ones that cause abortions with no side effects or danger to the woman. But there also more natural ways, ones that maybe aren’t 100% effective, but would work, tho it had some side effects.

So Callis, makes her a potion to take. For real life comparisons, let’s say she used Queen Anne’s Lace, which works a bit like Plan B. The girl is thankful, and goes on her way.

Soon enough, everybody knows Callis can do these potions. You have girls sneaking to Graves Hill in the middle of the night to get help in exchange for food and while the elders know something is fishy, they can’t do much anything about it. They ask Callis what is up with that and she’s like ‘nope, just ya know, helping them have babies, plan b who’.

She tries to introduce a variation of the potion, one that acts as birth control, because it would stop people from being irresponsable all the time, but the Plan B one is the one every girl wants, because well, it’s easier. You can be unsafe and then take a potion and it’s fine. Soon, it’s not just girls. There’s full grown women there too, who should really know better.

She is pissed, so she says she won’t make them any more potions unless people stop being so careless.

Someone tries to make a knock-off potion, but it ends tragically, because people don’t really know what Callis puts in it. And well… you know what looks a bit like Queen Anne’s Lace?

F-ing Water Hemlock, that’s what.

After that incident, people listen to Callis when it came to ingesting stuff. And thus, birth control culture is born in Gavaldon. Other people started trying out other things to avoid dealing with Callis, like animal-based condoms, pull-out method and inserting acacia gum into your vagina before you had sex,but she had a good clientele overall.

The Elders? Pissed. But since they couldn’t just prove this was her fault, they just kept on hating on her from a distance.

After Agatha has her first period, Callis sits her down and pretty much gives her the talk. Agatha doesn’t really see a point to it, boys are gross, but she listens nonetheless. 

Callis gives Agatha the best sex ed homeclass ever, you can bet she will teach her correct anatomy, debunk myths the school told her about both periods and her own body and even promised her to teach her how to make the birth control potion once she got older.

Again Agatha doesn’t see a point, but okay.

When Agatha comes home with Tedros, years later tho. Callis is... worried.

She tries to ask Agatha if she’s being safe but her daughter just... stops functioning. Blushing like crazy. 

 (“We just kissed, like, once, mom.”)

That being said… Callis doesn’t live long enough to teach her how to make the potion.

So when Tedros and Agatha’s relationship starts to progress (hm… if you wanna read something about it, maybe wait a couple of days, I might or my might not have a sin fic in the works, it wouldn’t be one of my posts if it had no self-promotion, I’m my own sponsor after all) she’s unsure of who to ask about this.

And it makes her extra sad about her mother’s death, so that’s great.

I honestly don’t know who she would ask. If you have any ideas, please tell me. Because I’m kind of inclined to think that maybe Merlin might have predicted this and handed a recipe to her as a semi-joke, but idk. Maybe Uma?

But yes, Callis was totally Gavaldon’s first witch gynecologist. And after they made Stefan mayor, I want people to remember her for the absolute legend she was, okay?

[chemicalpink]

Bonding(M)♡ Park Jimin

Pairing: Stripper!Jimin x Dom!Reader

Genre: Smutttt , Steamy(ish), Stripper!AU, College!AU

Summary: in which Jimin is known (and fawned over) for being a stripper, whereas the reader is secretly working as a dominatrix for both money and research on her psych major, until Jimin discovers her and asks her for a favour in return to not spreading her secret.

Word Count: almost 3k

Warnings: honestly… some dom on dom action and a bit of plot if you look closely

A/N: It started with a kinda ehhh plot, got lost in the middle, ended up being smut af, and the end… i just idk I kinda want to make a fluffy part 2 if you like this mess. Also, please bear with me, I just recently got into a fandom again after 5 years on hiatus. K love u. Oh! and requests are always open!

You can read Part II here!

“I heard that just by looking at you once, she has you all hardened” some guy gushed over to his friend in a quiet voice

“But nobody has really seen her face” another voice joined as you rushed by to get to your Behavioural Analysis class. 214...214….This was the third time you were late to class, work has just been too much lately, not that you were complaining, money-wise it was great, the word was getting around pretty fast, and research was just as good but sometimes you wondered if it was really worth the sweat dripping down your back as you ran from the bus station to get to class. 

The door made a creaking noise and you flinched a little as you took a seat at the back of the room, next to a platinum-haired boy you, unfortunately, knew too well. 

“Miss (Y/N)” the whole room seemed to turn to look at you as the professor acknowledge your presence and you felt your heart skip a beat, anticipating the worst “Its the third time this week that you try to sneak into my lecture” you wouldn’t normally care about some man’s piercing eyes towards you, it was actually a part of your job to step over that type of confidence, but this was just… not your stage, you turned to look down, his gaze somehow becoming overpowering 

“I overslept. My apologies” a stifled giggle made its way from your left side and you felt the sudden urge to roll your eyes at who it belonged to… Park Jimin. It’s not that you hated him. You just hated the fact that of all places, you had to coexist with him in the same class, same campus, the same era in time. 

You really weren’t sure what evil you had done that the universe just seemed to get you back ten times stronger. Having to share a classroom with Jimin was bad enough already, he seemed to make your inside bubble every time he talked, but when the professor asked for you and him to be involved in a differential, it just had to be a payback for always arriving late. You were 99% sure at any time you would implode. The case was pretty simple tho, Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Which seemed to fit perfectly to your classmate, so you thought about playing your cards in front of everyone, maybe if you were that someone that just shook their little brains, they would finally comprehend they were praising an egocentric little bitch. 

You could feel Jimin’s eyes waiting for you expectantly as soon as the teacher called out your name “Well NPD would pretty much sum it all up” and there it was, the same stifled giggle from before 

“Childhood trauma would also do it, Y/N” his tone was teasing you, and you knew better than to get involved but it was just not your day, your whole body turned towards him and a teasing smiled crept its way to your face 

“I thought you would know better, Jimin” his eyes squinted at you “Exaggerated feelings of self-importance, an excessive need for admiration, and a lack of empathy toward other people… sounds a lot like you” the whole class seemed to quiet down as you said it. No one had ever dared to talk to THE Park Jimin that way… not with his status on campus.

“Should I keep going?” you felt your heart beating faster as you tried to keep up with his eyes-that were glued on you as he clicked his tongue and bowed his head as if asking you to proceed “Self-perception of being unique, superior, and associated with high-status people, Sense of entitlement to special treatment and to obedience from others-” 

“And that would be it for today, you are dismissed” your eyes were still locked with Jimin’s as everyone gathered their things, you heart not slowing down and a boiling feeling within you, much to your surprise, Jimin was the first one to break eye contact, getting ready to stand up and leave the classroom, his right hand was already pushing the door open when he turned around to face you, still packing up your things.

“You know, Y/N, it's so brave of you to talk that way taking into account what you do for a living” you felt your heart rate quicken and you began to breathe rapidly. He-no. he couldn’t. Could he? No. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about” “Sure you don’t” stop the overthinking Y/N. He doesn’t know. No one knows. 

“So tell me… where should I pick you up if ...you know, I want your services” you could swear your heart stopped beating for a second just before the boiling sensation of rage took over and venomously spatted “I’m not like you” he chuckled 

“Of course not, kitten. I dance for a living. You make people cum” something took over you as the last word left his mouth.

 That side you didn’t use except for work, just happened to overdrive your body and within seconds you had THE Park Jimin pined against a wall. Yes, the same guy that was way too famous for making all the girls swoon over him during Friday nights after class, in a small strip club just outside campus. The Park Jimin was an overly famed dom and took pride in it. 

And you- well you had your fair share of fame, but in a legend, almost mystic type of way. No one was supposed to know you were the famous dominatrix that attended every. single. need from the people visiting her small studio-like office, a few blocks away from where the boy danced his life away. 

“So I guess its true then” he smiled that teasing smile of his, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your knees just a little bit weak “you do make any guy harden at your touch” you let your hand fall from his chest and quickly turned away as you tried to steady your breath 

“Listen… no one can know about this” he smirked as his eyes somewhat darkened. You knew this look. You would have to pay the price of his silence

“Just tell me already how much its gonna cost, you perv” your tone was kind of desperate as you stole a glimpse of the classroom’s clock and realised that you were already late for work. “a hundred? I’ll get them by the end of the week” 

“Actually” he paused as he looked at you as if something seemed funny to him about this whole situation “Social service will do this time. I’ll stop by your dorm tonight” you slowly felt whatever it was that possessed you a while ago. Rage? Indignation? Both? Whatever it meant that he would stop by your dorm, you weren’t having it. 

“I have work tonight” 

“So do I” so… there really was no way around it 

“Listen, money is no problem Jimin” 

“I know. But unless you’d like the whole campus to know who our beloved and mysterious dominatrix is… I’ll see you… let’s say, 2 am?” he bit his lip as he exited the room. Not giving you a chance to even consider manipulating him into getting your way, which was indeed, your speciality. 

The thing was, between attending evening classes, late-night work, homework and maintaining a somewhat normal social life, Jimin stopping by to whatever he meant by ‘social service’ meant you’d have to cram your studying time.

Work went by pretty quickly. And you couldn’t help but keep on wondering what was waiting for you with Jimin. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of what you did for a living… but it would lose its spark if people knew who you were.

Your head started to ache as you started getting ready to leave. It was already 1:30 am, which meant that it would take you around 20 minutes to get to your dorm and hopefully have enough time to change out of the red kinky thigh-high leather boots your work required that day. 

But boy were you one to get the times wrong. 

As you entered the hall of the unit, your eyes fell on a very glittery Jimin sitting on the floor outside your studio, unbuttoned black shirt and phone in hand. 

You walked up to him, exhaling loudly as an attempt to calm yourself down. You nudged his side with the tip of your boots. He looked up. 

“I was about to call you, but then I realised that I didn’t have your number” great. so he was an asshole and also had lame pick up lines. You really wondered how exactly did he have so many girls falling for him 

“And you’re not getting it” you opened the door and motioned for him to enter “Come on in, and may I ask, how exactly you got into the girl’s unit?” 

“Ah… little Y/N. I can get any girl to do whatever it is that I please” you closed your eyes as another wave of pain hit you 

“Yeah… you stay here. I’ll just go grab an aspirin” the dorm wasn’t big, as a matter of fact, your bed was just a few steps from the ‘living room’ where you left Jimin, but it did what it promised, let you crash. 

You could have sworn you were gone less than a minute before encountering a semi-naked Jimin propped up on your bed, striking what he might have thought of as a sexy pose, patting the bed by his front side for you to sit “Okay. I’m done. Get out”

He sat up “No, wait. I really need this. And you too, Y/N” he smiled at you, but not that smirk you had been used to seeing, the smile that radiated confidence and ego but one that almost seemed friendly, one that made him look innocent, cute, dare you say it. 

“A favour for a favour. As classmates that do kind of the same for a living” You grabbed the chair from your desk and sat in it, crossing your arms. Willing to put on a fight for as long as it benefited you 

“Fine. Be quick” 

“I’m just asking for a few minutes of your night, once a week. I need help with my show. And who knows? you might end up liking it” and there it was, every ounce of liking towards him that he built with the friendly smile and appealing to the sentiment of belonging to the same team. Gone 

“No way”

“Fine. Then just be ready for your little secret to come out” Was it really worth it? He did say, just a few minutes every week. But the thought of having Jimin over, dancing and doing who know what in your dorm, was unbearable. Then again, he did say he needed it. 

“Just a few minutes every week?” 

“Yeah” 

“Fine then stop by tomorrow. Same time” he smiled brightly at you “Now get lost. I need sleep”

What happened the next night though, nothing could have prepared you for it. Your assistant told you you had a new client coming, so as per usual, you were ready to test him out from simple to more complex things. You heard the door closing as some footsteps approached the bed behind you 

“Just stay there. I’ll be with you in a second” 

“God. those bunny ears really do suit you, Y/N” you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat as you felt heat building up inside you, from rage. But this was somewhat to your advantage, he had just stepped in the lion’s den and had no idea 

“I thought we agreed on meeting in my dorm” you said as you walked up to the bed, taking a seat behind him, with his back between your thighs 

“I thought this might be more fun” of course he was more than excited to play this game, but you weren’t going to let him win. 

Something flashed in his eyes. Something you have become very familiar with. Lust. And then Jimin pushes you against the wall, his fingers laced with yours, your back against the cold wall that held all of your work tools. And you saw what he was going for. Tying you up. But you were having none of it. In a matter of seconds, it was him pressed against the wall, his eyes reflecting the pink led lights from the room. You held tightly on his crotch as he tried to gain dominance over you, keeping him in his place. He just smirks.

You stay there for a moment, him locked under you, and the two of you stare at each other like you’re waiting for someone to make a move. A stalemate. And then you can’t tell who breaks it first, but somehow your lips collide in a hungry, urgent kiss. He kisses you deep, hungrily, desperately, like he wants to consume you whole. As you let your firm grip go, his touch is rough, his fingers grip so tight against your hip that it hurts, and the pain just spurs on the arousal beginning to pool in your belly. 

Jimin bites your lower lip as he pulls away, his eyes scanning over your face. The room felt silent, steamy like the bright lights were invited you two to step it up, taunting you to take it forward. Your breath hisses in involuntarily as you look down at the bulge in his pants, your eyes flitting back up to Jimin’s face. He has a cocky calm look on his face, and it occurs to you that you had never expected Park Jimin the stripper to be like this. 

For a moment you consider stopping, standing up and strolling out. This is a bad idea, the rational side of your brain chides. He’s… himself, the single-cell brained asshole that always sits beside you in class, the self-centred stripper Park Jimin, this is so wrong. But when you look into Jimin’s dark eyes and see the way he licks his lip while staring you up and down, the confidence that emanates from him. And all reason flies out of your head. You want him.

“C’mon spread those legs for me” he whispers to your ear and you can feel his hot breath tickling your neck. He knows what he’s doing. He knows what to say. Saying it without cockiness or nastiness but stating it firmly and calmly… sweet God. 

But this is a game you are not allowing yourself to lose. The hand you have been keeping on his crotch rapidly makes its way into his pants, stroking him over his underwear. He lets out a suppressed grunt and the sound makes you smile. 

Your smile widens when you stop stroking and grab him full in your hand and feel his thighs stiffen. Somehow his lips find their way to your neck, placing you in his previous stand, bot of your bottoms soon discarded, as he held both of your hands behind you, you felt a warmness near your pussy, followed by his voice.

“Tell me how much you want it”

“I don’t beg” everything that had gone thorough between you two in the past few minutes was better than anything you could have imagined. But the way he seemed so bothered by you not sticking to his dominant side’s orders just made you even wetter and weak in the knees. 

And then Jimin slides inside of you.

The last thing you see before closing your eyes and succumbing into pure please was Jimin’s jaw clenching, his platinum hair all messed up. He takes it slow, likely on purpose, and you let out a cry at the feeling. His cock is thicker than what you’re used to, and it stretches you out. It’s been such a long time since you’ve had sex, and when you did have time in the past, it was always rushed. You, dominantly riding a guy until you had a quick, mildly satisfying orgasm. But it was never this – dominated, teased, sprawled under a man with plump lips and a silky smooth voice. 

When he’s finally all the way inside of you, you release a long breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding in. You hear Jimin let out a stuttering breath, the two of you are still for a moment, just feeling one another, you exchange silent glances to which you weren’t quite sure the meaning of and then Jimin starts to thrust.

He is fucking into you hard, his pace steady and at just the right speed to have you crying out his name while shutting your eyes and drawing your nails into his back for balance, or maybe just to somehow be able to feel him closer. The blood is rushing to your face and you’re slightly dizzy from the mask you have on but all you can feel is him, the loud slap of skin resonating between the four walls of the small room as he slams into you. 

You can hear the vocalizations he makes with every thrust, grunts, growls, and then small soft mewls as he arches upwards and hits you at different angles. Each push of his cock leaves you a writhing mess beneath him. Just as you feel an unavoidable heat forming in the lower part of your belly, he stops. He completely stops. Steals one last glance at you, adding his signature smirk after pulling his pants on and leaves you there. All worked up against the wall, your mouth hanging open as he walks out. If you didn’t hate Park Jimin before, you were sure as hell you did now. 

[ziracona]

hi can we pls have some uhhhh 🅱️uentin Smith headcanons, and some killers hcs if you want! I also lowkey hc Jake and Claudette to both be some degree of autistic, I imprint like a baby bird on my fav characters so I hc both Jake AND Quentin to be trans, and Quentin and Meg are ADHD infodump pals. Literally sitting around the cabin taking turns talking about something they love while the other is sitting there... no thoughts... head empty... they r supporting each other

Nice! And Claudette is canonically autistic according to her archives description as far as I can tell, and I’m so glad! You should check out @askthedreamwalker if you’re interested in Quentin art bc their Quentin is trans and they have really nice art! Also u right as hell about Quentin and Meg. He gets v excited and Meg and he can special-interest back and forth for hours One person is pitcher, pouring information into empty pitcher2, then the other takes a turn and pours back into first pitcher. Info dump support friends. Heaven.

And hells yeah, I love son boy! Idk if you mean ILM headcanons or general, so I’m just gonna go with gen. 

Quentin’s got a big sense of justice. Not okay with people getting away with terrible shit, which makes the realms extra unbearable (somewhere in the distance Yui and Tapp are like ‘cheers mate’). Holds people very accountable. Boy is very fair and got upstanding character. Expects people to operate with like bare minimum decency and ain’t about to let that shit go if someone wants to be a bastard. Last person ever to let a killer get a pass for going around murdering people in-realm and would hold them extremely accountable and be v willing to kill one in a fight and view them with disgust and righteous anger, but also be one of the first people willing to forgive a killer if they genuinely reformed, or got thrown to the survivor side by the Entity and actually chose to shape up and proved they meant it. He has a huge sense of justice and righteous anger, but also believes in forgiveness and second chances. (Within reason. If any of the particularly bastard killers like GF or Nightmare or Clown showed up with a completely ooc change of heart they will never have anyway, Quentin would be like “…listen. …There are some things only God can forgive…U gotta take this one to him…and away from me. Forever…”. Boy got those high-quality standards 👌

Used to be kinda high-strung, but then his life was a living hell for so long that he ran out of energy entirely and now he has no choice but to be mostly chill. If he gets a burst of energy, the old excitement power switch flips back on and he is both way more talkative and active, and happier. Unfortunately he is usually so worn out he’s about to drop.

Got a bit of a martyr complex. The fact that literally locking himself in hell with his worst nightmare worked does not help. Feels massive guilt over the fact that the Nightmare is in the realm bc of him, but is still kind of glad bc it means he’s not out there murdering his family. Hates that he feels that way because he thinks it’s kind of wrong. Views being stuck in the realm as sort of penance for having brought Krueger unintentionally. Afraid to tell other people it’s his fault because he’s scared they would never talk to him again, and the idea of losing his friends and complete isolation here is unbearable. Feels guilt over that choice, because he feels like he’s in a way lying to them, and that if they would hate him if they knew the truth, they have a right to. Boy loves his friends hard, but does not trust them to forgive him, or to trust in him, so he’s not always completely honest about not just that but anything he’s struggling with. Very sad dumbass. Suffers alone because he’s afraid to ask for help, and/or does not think he deserves it.

Really loves the other survivors and would do anything he could to protect them. Dies in the majority of his trials because he battles endlessly trying to keep the others from being the ones who die. In a way, he’s trying to make things up to them, but he would absolutely do the same just because he loves them, and did for a long time before he ever figured out Krueger and him being taken was his fault (not that I personally think that’s a fair way for the boy to view it). Optimistic externally, struggling internally. Absolutely refuses, ever, to give up, but is always right on the threshold of having a breakdown. Pushes the others to find a way to escape and tries to give them hope. Takes a lot of shit. Will not fight back much if teased just be like -__- and moves on. Doesn’t let people boss him around though, and will always do what he thinks personally is the right thing. Extremely forgiving. (Except to himself.)  Snark boy if opportunity presents itself. Can I offer you a shot of adrenaline in this trying time boy? the rest of the time.

Gives people the benefit of the doubt. Not a hoe. Would commit to a s/o very dedicatedly. Also not the kind of asshole who would cut down on time w friends when in a relationship. Boy’s love is not a zero sum game. Would die or kill for Laurie. Loves Claudette and learning botany tips from her. Thinks she is pretty and admires her kindness and skill and refusal to let the world change who she is, and wishes he was more like her. Has not told her that. Is a lot more like her in that regard than he thinks he is. Pretty damn good in a fight bc he always gets back up. Determinator. Still in love with Nancy and loyal af. Misses her a lot. Does not open up about himself as much as people think he does. Misses his dad and Nancy and his dead friends a lot, especially Jesse. Doesn’t actually talk about his problems much. Just suffers in silence because he doesn’t think he can ask for help.

Takes his faith seriously. Prays a lot, and struggles with feeling completely abandoned by God, but won’t give up on that either. Tries hard to believe he cares and things will change. Dedicated to trying to make sure that regardless of what his friends believe in, they are okay. Very sad and alone but tries to not think about that. Tries to help friends stay hopeful. Is both baby and badass sass boy in one package. Fight hard, love hard, someday will get to sleep for a whole year. 

If you are nice to him once, will assume that means you are friends now. Genuinely cares deeply for every single survivor at the campfire. Wants to protect people. Constantly suffering bc that’s impossible here. Really just wants everyone to be okay someday, including himself, and simultaneously kind of feels like he no longer deserves to be okay in the end at all. Tries not to think about that. Massive guilt issues. Bottles it up. Loyal as hell. Would die for his friends so much it actively worries them and they’re like “Quentin…please. Quentin-stop—stop. You’ll die again. I swear to god Quentin! I can die this time! Quentin!!! Come back here right now!” But he never comes back. Big sibling energy. Regularly people be like “Damn u could make a pretty fine lil brother out of this” and then they do. He loves so hard. Please be nice to him. He’s always trying so hard and never thinks it’s enough. He works so hard.

Triggers include being grabbed by his hair and jerked around, losing his necklace, the cave, and the Nightmare within 15 feet of someone he loves, so homeboy has just, a lot of bad days. Is playing a fun game called ‘I will absorb trauma forever and not get help for it and then one day it will kill me’. Needs to learn to depend on his friends.

Good sense of humor, enjoys reading and music. Will talk way too much about things he likes and not notice he’s done it and then feel bad. Dumbass sweetheart, will think he’s doing a great job flirting and be proud of himself when he did not, in fact, do a suave job, but it’s cute. Tries hard. All the time. At everything. God he tries.

I would do killer hcs too but this already so long and I cut like half of what I initially wrote rip. I have too many thoughts. Head full. : ( Here’s just a few little ones:

Myers does not like working for the Entity. It tried to pull a fast one and be like, “Yes tis I, another voice in your head,” and Michael was like “Bitch it’s my head. I don’t know you!” and that did not work. While Michael very much would love to kill Laurie and get inner peace, working for the entity provides 0% daily Michael needs, and he hates it. Sometimes he just does what the fuck he wants and gets in trouble (homeslice is the only killer who can kill survivors with no mori and no perk for it. Michael cannot be controlled). Does not like being here at all. He doesn’t cause the Entity a lot of trouble like Krueger does, so it doesn’t consider him a problem killer, but they do not have a ‘Ah yes my favorite killer’ kind of thing going. Michael hates the spider-monster. He is so tired of everything at this point. Boy is suffering. Would fight the Entity if he knew how. Has been hurt by it before, and does not like that, because it takes longer to heal than he is used to.

Myers has a few times had his home area be close enough to the campfire that he could see it in the distance, and he watches them when that happens. For hours. He is lonely, but does not realize that, and probably never will. He does stand there and watch them, being sad and not realizing he’s sad at all. It’s the closest he ever gets to human interaction aside from killing people in trials.

The Entity hurts Max sometimes, not because he has done anything wrong, but because injuring him without providing even a way to prevent it keeps him peak feral and afraid, just like it wants. No time to recover or learn or grow. Just anger and pain and fear.

The Entity promises Rin a lot of things. Not because it has to, but because it enjoys the taste of her suffering. One of her addons is paper cranes, one of 1000 to make a wish, as the description says. I’ve always interpreted that to mean it likes to screw with her and offer her things like that she can do between trials, in the moments of lucidity she occasionally has when completely alone. ‘Make 1000, get your wish,’ but every time she hits 999, it blows the ones she’s made away, and she has to start over. Unclimbable hill. Just to watch her struggle. That kind of thing. Intentionally tends to send survivors her way it knows she would dislike killing the most, just to watch her have to do it against her will and bask in the horror of what she cannot make herself not do.

[butididnottried]

So, after a few weeks i'm finally at the finale.

The Phoenix King

Excuse me, mister phoenix fire bitch king Ozai, sir, your enormous ego makes me cackling like a kindergardener that just heard a swear word. This man is just insufferable. But yeah, he is a human being (and once he was an innocent (cute?) baby) and Aang is right with not wanting to kill him. Like, they really never talked about this, and they all act like it's one of the easiest thing to do. I know that fandom likes to jokes about how Toph and Zuko we're killing people and the rest of gaang was more than oblivious to that, but seriosusly, none of them - and i mean all gaang - never killed not even a one person. Probably. As far as i know/remember. I realize that fate of the whole world is lying on their backs, but i also know that they know better than to shaming Aang not wanting to be a murderer and they fuckin know that they're not helipng with such agression.

They didn't tell Zuko about their plans to attack after the comet, so Zuko didn't tell them what his father want to do with the comet. And now The Avatar is missing and you have no time to loose. That's what happens when people do not talk to each other! Buuut Ozai plans towards comet sound kinda... important? Big? Dangerous? Looks like Zuko should tell the rest about that anyway.

But hell, they really wanted to wait out this whole comet thing and attacket later? Like, why?! They really expected that the fire lord wouldn't use it's power to do something crazy? Because he already conquered Ba Sing Se? And that's all? He won the war? What? Cooome on, Katara, Sokka, you're smarter than this. ):

Toph was way too happy about throwing flaming rocks at her freinds. And she moulded a whole Ba Sing Se in sand. With the earth king and his bear looking just like they look. Girl, that is some crazy memory superpower.

👏 Give 👏 Toph 👏 her 👏 life 👏 changing 👏 trip 👏 with 👏 Zuko 👏

I have a really hard time with believing that Azula is just 14. Aang and Toph are just 12? Ok. Katara is 14 and Sokka 15? Sure thing. Zukos 16? Yes. And uh, Azula is also 14. And i'm like... you lost me.

Gay disaster mister avatar tracking master be like "i know what to do" and he takes all his friends to meet a powerhouse lesbian.

The Old Masters

Welcome to the family grampgramp!

Seriously, Paku does not deserve such precious grandchildren.

And also seriosuly, master Pianado is not that old. He's fine and middle aged. How dare you.

Bumi can bend with just his face. He can bend a whole house. And then throw a whole house. What a man. No wonder he can just like that proclaim himself as a king. Who would forbid that to him? Aaaand, do firebenders didn't knew that eclipse would take bending powers away from them? Is this some forbidden knowledge?

Uncle Iroh, i'm really start to doubting your wisdom and common sense. You really want to leave Zuko all alone when he become fire lord? I guess that since Zuko himself recognizes his mistakes and choose the right path Iroh thinks that he's ready to be responsible enough and take lead of a whole nation. Yes. Of course. ...Nooo, no no, i would never leave my baby boy like that. But i'm a dumbass and except moral support i wouldn't be much help with ruling. But an old man having his pai sho plays every day is more important. I'm let down. ):

I read how lionturtle and his gift to Aang is just an easy and lazy deus ex machina and... no? No really? Well, yes, it was easy for Aang to just being gifted with energybending and not needed anymore to kill Ozai, but it makes sense in this world and do not came out of nowhere. Aang was so conflicted about possibility that he must kill someone, that he unconsciously seeked help from spirits. The lionturtle do not came to Aang, he didn't even know that there's a human on hic back. Aang asked him for guidance and help, and lionturltle did excatly that - he helped the avatar with his dillema. Easy. Well, i'm guessing that Aang don't know yet what excatly happened and didn’t feel different. Also, Aangs moral dillema about killing another human is just *double chef kiss*. ATLA aired more than 10 years ago and even now it's rather rare to see something like that on show for kids.

But also, all these past avatars we're rather useless. You need to be more active avatar Aang. You need to bring justice. You need to do something. Blah blah blah. These are not really substantive tips. Maybe expect that aribender avatar lady. She also didn't really helped Aang with his problem, but at least she said something new and meaningful.

Into the Inferno

All these firebenders flying around like they have jetpacks is just hysterical. And yes Toph, yes, that's A LOT of fire. I also like how they used a sound of flamethrower in firebending scenes.

Banishment for you. Banishment for you! Banishment for everybody! ...aaand idk, for me Azula slipping away was a little to fast? Maybe if we saw some some scenes with her between “The Boilin Rock” and this it would hit harder/better? Idk. I don’t really feel her. And when she's drawed LIKE THAT i have even harder time believing that she's just 14.

Oh, i like so much music choice during Azulas and Zukos agni kai. When Aang and Ozai are fighting there's proper battle music, but during agni kai scenes music was sad, emotional and dramatic, not only accentuating tragedy of this situation, but also how Zukos and Azulas personal fight is different from Aangs and Ozai. NICE.

Avatar Aang

And that's why you do not mess with the avatar! Fuck him up Aang!

But lol, how funny it is that Aangs cosmic chakra was unlocked absolutely by stupid accident? Ozai that one particular thing bring wholly oh himself. And oh, Aang knew how this whole energybending works buts still was hesistant to use it because it could be too dangerous to him and he left it at the very end, if he had no other choice. Understandable.

Aang is the best avatar, there's no discussion. When all past avatars went down to absolutely obliterate Ozai and Aang standed up to all of them? NICE.

Hmmm, there's one good thing about loser lord Ozai. His hair game. This thick mane is truly impressive. It's almost on disneys Pocahontas level when it's flowing on wind. And then he got roasted by a bunch of goofy kids. Beautiful.

Yes Sokka, it's amazing that Toph invented metalbending. You have no idea how much.

Katara taken down Azula in a very smart way. Can i get a wahoo for Katara? WAHOO!

That open plot with Ursa feels... unnecessary? Do they planned comics at this point? Like, if you're not going to resolve this in the show then why even keeping her alive? I guess that this is in presupposition, that Zuko is going to find her and bring home and they're going to be all happy and nice but idk. Maybe it would felt differently for me if i didn't know how this was resolved in the comics. :/

Ty Lee was like GIRLS, and girls we're like YES. You go, you funky little lesbian.

Aaaah, it felt so rewarding and satisfying when Aang immobilized Ozai, put a whole laser show and then calmly put down this whole fire around them. Closing scenes after that we're good, but emotionally? Aangs being at peace immediately after fight bringed me peace. My skin is clean, my crops are thriving and all that smooth jazz. So good. Such good finale. I can't believe that. Honestly, i don’t remember the last time when i felt so good after finishing something.

...and they needed to ruin it at the very last seconds. Well, not like, ruin it whole, but scratched it enough. Aang walks on porch, Katara joins him, they look at each other and blush, they see how calm the world is right now and how good and beautiful it is, they hug each other, it nice and cute and just good. And it should end right here. Because this kiss really feel like reward and it's... icky a little.